There was a little bell on the door of the shop, which tinkled as we entered. I guess some things are universal. Panuniversal.

A rather dumpy middle-aged man, wearing what looked like nicely made but very simple clothing, looked up from a sheet of… paper? Parchment? (Still don’t know the difference.) Anyway, he was writing something as he sat at a counter and looked up at us with a vaguely annoyed face.

“Good afternoon, Meg,” he said, politely enough. When he realized Meg had entered the shop, he went from looking annoyed to borderline leering. “What do you need today?” He didn’t give me a first glance, let alone a second. When I realized what he was doing I had to resist a sudden urge to hit the Pause button on his brain.

No, Chris, I told myself quickly. She is cute, and as long as he’s polite… The thought trailed off, leaving a vague disgruntlement in its place.

“Hello, William,” Meg replied, in a chilly tone. He blinked, apparently not expecting this attitude. “Master Chris…” She indicated me with a look and a nod of her head. “… needs some clothing and a few other things. He’s traveled a long way and lost his baggage.”

The shopkeeper deigned to actually look at me, and was clearly unimpressed. (Couldn’t blame him, really, I looked like any other young guy in nondescript clothes.) Then what she said clicked and he did a double-take.

“Master Chris? Is this the Song Mage people are…” He caught himself. “I mean, good day to you, Master Mage. I’m William. How can I help you?” It only made sense that a shopkeeper would hear gossip, although I was surprised how fast it’d got to him. I tried very hard to keep the smug off my face and mostly succeeded.

“Good afternoon,” I said with a smile with hardly any smug in it. “Like Meg said, I’ve been traveling and lost my baggage. I need, well, some new baggage. And some clothes and so forth.”

“I’m so sorry to hear of your misfortune, Master Mage,” said William hurriedly. “I’ll be honored to help you. A moment.” He stood up and started rooting around behind the counter. While he did that I looked around.

The store was sort of the bastard child of a Goodwill and a Seven-Eleven. There were shelves that held various goods in various states of repair, most of it obviously used to some extent. Behind the counter was a rack that had a few sad-looking swords and knives on it, sitting on top of another counter that had cabinets built in beneath. On the rear counter were some waterskins, lanterns, and other things I’d loosely classify as camping gear. Next to those were a few beat-up books and some unlabeled boxes and bags.

“Ah, here we are,” said the shopkeeper, bobbing up with a look of satisfaction. In his hand he held what I’d call a backpack but what was probably really a ‘rucksack’ or something. It was a bag with straps on it that looked like you could sling it on your shoulder or wear it on your back, anyway. It had a few loops on it that you could obviously tie things to or put things in or whatever.

“I have this very well-made traveling bag…” Cop-out, writers! “… of sturdy canvas, with leather straps. You can carry it or attach it to a harness or a saddle. Please, examine it for yourself, Master Mage.” He set it on the counter and gestured at it, smiling hopefully.

Walking up to the counter, I gave the bag a once-over. It wasn’t a patch on the sturdy REI day pack, a hand-me-down from my father, that I’d carried my books and things in for college. Thinking of it, I got an odd twinge.

I wonder what happened to my bag, I thought, mind drifting away in a blink. Maybe it was destroyed when the truck hit me. Or soaked in my blood. I hope my parents didn’t have to see that.

After several seconds, Meg said, “Master Chris?” in a gentle tone. She couldn’t have known what I was thinking about but she’d seen the look on my face before. I shook my head and came back to the here and now.

“Sorry,” I said. “I got distracted.”

“That’s quite all right, Master Mage,” said William in sort of an obsequious tone. Like, ‘I know you mighty Song Mages have weighty things on your mind, don’t mind us peons.’ It was irritating, but again, I couldn’t blame him given the Power = Asshole rule that was apparently the standard here.

Looking over the bag, I saw that while the stitching was crude by my standards, it seemed to be in good shape with no holes or stains, and the leather straps had obviously been cared for with no cracks or anything. The fabric had been treated with something and felt like it would keep moisture out pretty well.

“This should do for now,” I said. “I’m not a fan of horses so something I can carry is what I want.” I pushed it to the side, not bothering to ask the price. I’d already decided to let Meg handle all that when we were done. “Now, I need some clothes. Socks, pants, shirt, underw…” What did they call them here? Smallclothes? Who knew. Time to just trust in Omniglot. “Underwear. And traveling supplies. A toothbrush, a washcloth, a comb, things like that.”

“Of course, Master Mage,” he said with that same kiss-up smile. He turned back to the rear counter and opened one of the cabinet doors. He set what looked like a little stick on the counter next to the bag, then two small bundles of cloth that I recognized as similar to the underwear I had on.

At least he didn’t try to sell me used underwear, I thought with a grimace. The store had clothes on various shelves that looked… pre-owned… but the underwear, and the two pairs of socks he put next to them after looking in another cabinet, looked brand-new.

“Do you need a razor, Master Mage?” he asked, looking up.

I touched my face reflexively. It was a little rough. My beard didn’t grow that fast yet but it was definitely coming in.

“Yes, please,” I said, and he blinked at the ‘please.’ “And some soap and a towel.” I had no idea how to use a razor but I figured I could ask Keeper or Meg. William set a small bar of soap down and then wrapped it in a square of cloth that would do for a towel along with a little bag that presumably held the razor. Then a plain wooden comb of some dark wood. The teeth were fairly regular but quite broad compared to the combs I was used to.

“I haven’t any new shirts or pants suitable for a Song Mage,” he said with concern. “I’m sorry, Master Mage, the tailors ask such a lot for fine clothing and we don’t see many people of quality here.”

“See what I’m wearing?” I said, shaking my head with a smile. He nodded, brows furrowed. “It’s fine. I like to keep a low profile.” The brows furrowed deeper but he didn’t question me. “Do you have anything like this?”

“I… yes, Master Mage, of course.” He came out from behind the counter and started pulling things off different shelves. After a few minutes, he’d found me a shirt and a pair of pants which were, if not new, scrupulously clean and cared for. William looked nervous to offer me such… peasant-y… stuff, but it was, as I asked, very similar to what I had on. Apparently it was the t-shirt and jeans of Laroha.

I’d been thinking I’d buy some adventuring gear, since I wanted to go adventuring, but as I’d decided to stick around for a few weeks I didn’t think there was any point getting it all at once. Better to keep people guessing what I might or might not do. So this seemed like a good stopping point.

“That will do for now,” I said, trying to sound serious without being a jerk. “If I think of more, I’ll just come back. It’s not far from the Merchant’s Rest after all.”

“Fine, fine,” said William. He sounded like the oily merchant in every bad fantasy story, honestly. Looking at the pile on the counter, he thought for a moment and then said, “I think…” He paused, looking a little nervous under the smarm. “… Three silver?” I noticed his lips were pursed thin. Either he was overcharging or undercharging, and either way he was afraid. Or Hell, maybe he’d be afraid of the big bad Song Mage even with an honest price.

I glanced at Meg. She frowned, then went over to look at the bag herself. “Meg sees a lot of bags and things at the inn,” I said while she inspected it. “She knows a good one when she sees one, I’m sure.”

Hey, my metaphor may be iffy, but you’ve probably already gathered that my improv game is solid.

“Oh, of course, of course,” said William nervously. “If she thinks it’s not worthy of your time…” He trailed off, not really knowing where to go with that.

“It’s a good bag,” said Meg. She almost sounded disappointed. Maybe she wanted to catch the old lecher trying to pull a fast one. “It’d be worth three silver by itself.”

It was going to take me a while to figure out the economy around here: Keeper had told me six silver was two month’s profits. Even assuming some hyperbole, it seemed weird that the bag was worth a month of what the Merchant’s Rest could bring in. But it was well made, and absent modern chemistry waterproofing it either needed a lot of persnickety work or magic. Manufactured stuff was super expensive before the Industrial Revolution, I remembered.

“William, I won’t cheat you just because I’m a Song Mage,” I said firmly. He flinched reflexively, then realized what I’d said.

“Oh, no, Master Mage!” he said hurriedly. “I just wanted to give you a bargain! I heard you saved Meg and Keeper from some very unsavory characters!” He was talking fast, even for a merchant.

“Well, I may have,” I said, with no more than a touch of smug. “But I expect people to treat me fairly and I do the same. You’ll take four silver for the bag and the rest or I’ll leave with nothing.”

His eyes literally boggled. It was kind of funny to see.

“I… that is…” His wheels spun for a second before he finally got out, “If you think that’s fair, Master Mage.”

“I do,” I said. “Do you?”

“Oh, yes!” he replied immediately. “Thank you for your fair dealing, Master Mage.”

“You’re welcome,” I said. This got me another blink and I resisted, barely, the urge to roll my eyes. This world needed some work. I got the money out of my pocket, where I’d again laid in some change so I didn’t have to dig through all my coin, and handed it to him. “Thank you for your help.”

“It’s my honor, Master Mage,” he said. He was still looking a little dubious, but the smarm was making a valiant effort to return. With a few quick movements he’d bundled everything into the bag. Then he rotated it so the straps were facing me on the counter and added, “I hope it serves you well. If I can be of further help to you, please come back.”

“I will,” I said with a smile. Then I had to take a quick step to stop Meg from grabbing the bag while I was talking to William.

“Let me, Master Chris,” she said earnestly. “I can carry it for you.”

“I know you can, Meg,” I said, my voice firming up again. “But it’s my bag and I need to get used to carrying it.” I thought this got another quick boggle from the shopkeeper but I was mostly paying attention to Meg, who frowned and almost pouted at me. I just gave her a ‘zip it’ glance and she did roll her eyes at me. So much for respecting Chris the Great and Terrible!

“I’ll wear it out,” I joked, shrugging the straps onto my shoulders. Nobody laughed. Tough crowd. “It seems to fit well enough.” The straps were, of course, not the thickly padded nylon of my old pack, but the edges were rolled from at least light use, and the size wasn’t terrible. It didn’t dig or poke. Probably as good as I’m going to get around here.

“I’m so pleased, Master Mage,” said William, who was definitely getting his smarm back.

Probably tell everyone he’s the official supplier of Song Mages in Pirisi, I thought. Oh, well. Respect the hustle.

Bidding William good day, Meg and I made our way out of the store. I shifted my shoulders as I walked, making sure the bag settled well. She saw me doing this and started fussing at me.

“Master Chris, if the bag’s not suitable…”

“It’s fine, Meg. I wore a backpack every day where I used to live.” I still didn’t know a good way to say ‘on my last world where I lived before I died,’ so I was just winging it. “I had a nice one. This one’s just a little different.”

I decided to take a turn around the square with the bag on to see how it felt. Meg fell in next to me.

“I can’t believe he sold it so cheap,” she said, apparently giving up. “It’s not like him to miss an iron.”

“Ever shop in there with a Song Mage before?” She shook her head. “Well there you go. He was kissing up, or afraid, which is exactly what I was worried about. Thanks for helping me keep him honest.”

“You’re welcome, Master Chris,” she said, smiling a bit. “But why would you not just take what he offered?”

“Two reasons,” I answered. “One, I do try to be honest. When I can.” She frowned.

“That’s not what I m…” I cut her off.

“I know, Meg, I’m just joking. The second reason is the important one. Now he’ll tell everybody I was decent to him, so hopefully people won’t be scared of me.” This answer didn’t seem to suit her much better.

“Don’t you want people to respect you, Master Chris? You’re a Song Mage! A powerful one, too. People should respect you!” Meg was starting to take offense on my behalf at some hypothetical dis-respecter. I sighed.

This is going to be harder than I thought.

“I said scared, not disrespectful. I don’t think many people around here are going to have it in them to disrespect a Song Mage.” I paused. “Well, maybe that doctor guy. But other than him. And I don’t like to see people bowing and scraping. That’s not how we do it where I’m from. It bothers me.”

She shook her head again. “Your wor…” She looked around and noticed there were people who might be close enough to hear us. “Your home sounds very strange.”

“Well, even for where I’m from, the country where I grew up is strange,” I said, smiling at her. “We had a whole revolution just because we got tired of bowing and scraping.”

“The new king didn’t make people bow?” said Meg with confusion.

“We cast him down and had no one in his place,” I said, chuckling to myself. Nobody but me was ever going to get my jokes, but that wasn’t going to stop me making them. Meg’s eyes got huge, which was as charming as ever.

“Then… who was in charge?” she asked wonderingly.

“Well, that’s complicated,” I said, with a rueful expression. “We took turns picking someone, is the short answer.”

“That’s crazy,” she replied, then realized what she’d said. “I’m sorry, Master Chris, I didn’t mean…”

“It’s okay, Meg,” I said soothingly. “I’m sure it does sound crazy to you. But we made it work most of the time. I wasn’t even old enough to vote the last time we picked somebody, so I never really got to be part of it anyway.”

As we were talking, we had moseyed around the square and were back in front of the Merchant’s Rest. Meg stopped at the door, looking at me inquisitively. It was adorable.

“Do you want to go in, Master Chris?” she asked.

Being a horny teenaged boy, my first reaction was to haul her back up to my room and do some sweaty time-killing until supper, but that didn’t seem like a very mature or a very adventure-in-a-fantasy-world thing to do. I looked around the square, trying to figure out what we could do that was a little more responsible.

“You look like you’re trying to think of somewhere else to go, Master Chris,” said Meg after a minute of this. “Is there something else you need?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Is there something else I need?”

“A better weapon, if you’re going to go into the woods again,” she said thoughtfully. “Or you would, if you didn’t already have Song Magery stronger than any sword. A horse, if you’re not going to stay in Pirisi.” She blushed. “Maybe two horses? If I…”

“Where I go, you go, Meg,” I said, meaning it. She got much redder and her mouth opened a little bit, either with love or with embarrassment. “But I won’t be leaving until at least after the Song Fair, I’d like to see it. No point buying a horse to feed for three weeks when I won’t be riding it. But what’s this about a weapon? Do you think we should go back to William’s and look at the ones he had?”

“No,” she snorted. “Most of those were rusty trash. Even I could see that and I’m just a girl.” I almost corrected her, but she was still talking. “No, we should go see the smith if you want a weapon. Not that you need one.” She gave me one of her hero-worship looks and it was my turn to blush.

“It never hurts to have options,” I said. “Or a backup. Running out of Breath surrounded by goblins or whatever seems like a terrible time to have decided swords were beneath my mighty Mage self.”

Meg giggled, and said, “That’s a good point, Master Chris. Shall we go see if the smith has anything you might like?”

“I have no idea how to use… well, pretty much any weapons at all,” I said. Meg looked surprised. “Where I’m from we use… the weapons I told you about. Though most people don’t carry weapons at all. It’s a very peaceful place, most of the time.” I must have looked sad again, because Meg’s face firmed and she took my arm.

“Well, Pirisi is usually peaceful too, but you’re right, you should have something to fall back on. A man like you will make others jealous of what’s his.” The beautiful girl pulled me to her possessively, by which, ironically, I think she meant, ‘… Like me.’

“And anyway, if you’ve got a weapon, it will make people think you might be dangerous,” she continued. “Then you might not have to fight as much.” She looked at me and blushed. “Begging your pardon, Master Chris, but you just don’t look like a powerful Song Mage. If you looked more dangerous, people might be more reluctant to attack you.”

“Can’t argue with any of that,” I said cheerfully. She relaxed, obviously relieved that I hadn’t taken offense or considered my masculinity besmirched or anything ridiculous like that. “Let’s go see the smith.”