Several hours and too much dinner later, Peter was settling into his bed. Today had been a confusing day. On the plus side, he had managed to knock over the last of his homework. What the smith had said had proven to be completely true and accurate, and had been delivered in a way that Peter knew he would remember for a lifetime.

On the other hand, there was something up with his mother. Something weird. Strange envelopes, random strangers, hugs that may or may not have occurred. I wonder if I should say something to Dad? Or does he already know? What am I thinking, of course he knows. Peter rolled onto his side in a vain attempt to get more comfortable. Is it because they’re fighting? Is it my fault? His thoughts tumbled and crashed into one another. I hate this place. I wish I could live in Averton full time.

Rolling back onto his back and arranging himself as comfortably as he could, Peter logged into the game. The comfortable weight of the slightly larger body he inhabited settled on him, then swiftly dragged him to the ground in a tumble of arms and legs.

“Oof,” he huffed as the cobbled courtyard rushed up to smack him in the face. “I forgot about that. Dammit Mum, why’d you have to be so pushy?” Peter mumbled as he picked himself up and brushed off his clothing. Continuing to pat himself down as he walked to the iron gates, Peter scanned the stable as he passed. There were four enclosed stalls that were better appointed than the rest of the stable, with individual workbenches and racks on the wall where tools could go. That could come in handy… If I ever get a mount. And friends.

The view from the back gate didn’t reveal much more than could be seen from the back door to the house. Peter had a feeling he’d been able to see more of the fields earlier, as though the clouds had rolled in some. He gave the bars a tug but found the gate was locked shut, immovable. A skull shaped fingerplate with a keyhole in the nose sat right in the middle of the black metal upright. Peter pulled out his key and looked at it, then at the lock, then at the key again. Same symbol,he mused. Shrugging he inserted the key and twisted it. A loud clunk echoed across the courtyard and the gates began to swing outward with glacial slowness.

Turning back while he waited, Peter cast a critical eye over the back of the back end of the house. It resembled a Victorian age cottage with a thatched roof and white painted walls. Several dark wood window frames were set into what looked to be rendered brick, letting in what little light shone through the clouds.

The sky above brooded. Darker and lighter patches of cloud swirled around each other but there was no evidence of the sun.

A moaning shriek made Peter cringe and whip around prepared to be attacked, before the gates clanged against the stops set into the ground on either side of the path. As he stepped from the cobbles of the courtyard to the hard packed dirt of the road a chilling gust swirled around him, whipping up his cloak and ruffling the feathers on his wings. Nope, he decided. Not today. I’m going to go do something fun. Creepy clouds and frightening fields can wait for another day. Quickly retrieving the key from the lock, he headed back inside as the gates swung themselves shut.

As he walked down the hall from the kitchen to the front door the feeling began to subside, but something of the chill stayed with him, something was not right with the house either. Something he could not put his finger on. Fjor has said that the house was diminishing, but not what that meant, nor how to do something about it. The Geas entry in his Mark offered no suggestions either, it was simply a verbatim repetition of her proclamation. I can’t see any way to interface with the house, he thought as he cast about in consternation. The wiki didn’t say anything about owning magical houses. What does this do? He poked at random objects around the entryway in the vain hope of provoking a reaction. Nothing. Bugger. I’ll ask Pham or Dani. Hopefully someone will know what to do.

Opening the front door and stepping out into the chapel dispelled the last vestiges of the eldritch feeling from the back yard, but not the vague annoyance at the lack of instructions. The warm glow of the votive candles lit the room and gave it a welcoming atmosphere that soothed his rustled jimmies as he drifted along the aisle between the pews. A golden flash drew his attention to the fountain, where a small group of outlandishly dressed figures were just withdrawing their hands. One essayed a hesitantly friendly wave. Peter waved back warily as he walked out the door.

Outside, the gathering dusk was held back by the gas lamps lining the street but a thin fog had begun to give them a hazy sort of halo. A thin zephyr stirred the streamers into weird and wonderful shapes that hung in the darker corners. Peter crossed quickly to the inn as he activated the party ring Dani had given him. The light blue glow comforted him, knowing he had a friend on the way.

Another familiar face was doing the rounds of the patio. “Rosie!” he called. “It’s so good to see you. How are you today?”

Rosie gestured with her full tray of drinks, miraculously not spilling a drop. “Business is good, young Peter. This geas has pulled Travellers from all corners of the land seeking the one it was bestowed upon. Why, my sister over in Stonehampton wrote me yesterday to tell me about a Traveller in a massive steam powered suit of armour that passed through yesterday. The smoke coming out of the chimney made a right mess of her laundry.” She deftly avoided a patron collapsing sideways. “Of course, there’s always one that can’t handle their drink,” a swift turn of a heel just so happened to connect with the recumbent person’s skull, “and need to cool off in the guardhouse until morning.”

“Steam powered armour?” Peter exclaimed. “That’s awesome, not awesome about your sister’s laundry, but still, you know what I mean.” He stepped aside to let Rosie pass. “Do you need me to do anything? Call a watchman, maybe?”

The occupants of a nearby table drained their tankards and stood. Two of them hoisted the unconscious person over their shoulder as the third dropped a handful of coins onto Rosie’s tray. “No need, boy. Cavalry’s here. Let’s go, someone needs a cold bath and a bed.”

When the drunk’s compatriots started to complain, the guardsman who had spoken flashed a set of three chevrons on his pauldron and they quickly sat down again. Clearly they were not to be messed with.

Peter headed inside behind Rosie and took a seat at the bar. Dani hadn’t given any indication on how long it would take her to respond, but if her magical horse was as fast as it looked she should be along shortly. The evening crowd were more subdued than normal, everyone Peter could recognise as a local seemed to be keeping to themselves and the garishly dressed Travellers were all huddled over their tables in hushed conversation. Dave himself was tending bar and keeping a close eye on the proceedings.

“Dave, how goes it this evening,” Peter greeted him, his voice loud against the susurrus of the room.

Dave put down the glass he had been cleaning and flipped the cloth over his shoulder. “Can’t complain, Peter. Had a bit of a ruckus earlier, a couple of out-of-towners decided their plans included getting rowdy and busting the furniture. Hadda get the guard in to sort ‘em out. How’s yourself? Keeping out of trouble?”

Peter leaned his elbows on the bar. “For the most part, I suppose. Keeping Jacob in a job singlehandedly for the most part. Uh, is that why it’s so quiet tonight? Jerks made a mess of the place and no-one wants to be next?”

“A bit o’ that, lad. A bit o’ that. Also, the geas Fjor laid on a Traveller has all the rest of them playing treasure hunter. There’s always a fortune to be made when the Avatars speak and you can see the golden glint in the eyes of every Traveller when money’s to be had.” A patron approached the bar and raised two fingers. Dave gave her the up nod and pulled a pair of pints before continuing. “This lot have been like a kicked ants nest, all swarming to find the boot what done it. Now, each of them wants to be the first to kill the monster, find the treasure, climb the mountain, whatever the Avatar has asked the one lucky Traveller to do. None of them wants to share the gold or glory except with their own guild or party, and even then some of them would stick a dagger in their mate’s back to the the last one standing when the reward comes due. So,” he gestured to the near-silent room, “we have this state of affairs. Good for business, I suppose, but creepy if you ask me.”

“You’re telling me,” Peter agreed as he thumbed the inventory mark on his arm.

As the interdimensional space was opening however, Dave waved an arm through the area and disrupted the process.“Oi, none o’ that at the bar. Never know what sort o’ thing’s going to fall out of a Traveller’s ‘ventory. This is a food serving area, it’s pockets or nuffin.”

Well, there’s a thing, Peter thought to himself, your inventory opening sequence can be interrupted. I guess that’s why Dani keeps everything in those pouches… “Sorry sir, I didn’t know. I was just getting my money out. I’ll be right back.” He stepped away from the bar, looking for a quiet corner to extract his things. DB was probably getting bored in there too, and chewing on things that really should not be chewed on.

Stepping through the back door out to the stables, Peter collided with a familiar figure. “Watch where you’re… oh. Wassup Petey? You’re looking paler than usual. Die again?”

“Like you can talk Pham,” he retorted. “Can you actually get any whiter?”

Pham laughed and punched him in the arm. “That’s my Petey. Hey, didja get onto that chick? The one with the boy’s name?”

“Yeah, sure did. Dani, her name is. She’s on her way. I think.” Peter rubbed his arm. For an elf that looked like he’d blow away in a stiff breeze, he had a decent swing. “Where’s the rest of your crew? Are they online tonight?”

Pham led the way through the common room and out the front door. “Wazza got grounded, all net privileges revoked too, for something he said to his dad. He texted this morning to let me know. Danny’s sulking about missing dailies and guild raids, and Blaise is lending a sympathetic ear. Or, more than an ear maybe. I think she’s hot for his pistol skills, if you know what I mean? Heh, hot,” Pham smiled at his own joke, though it made no sense to Peter. “It’s just you and me tonight, and maybe Dani if she makes it. You been on long?”

Claiming the last unoccupied table on the patio, they pulled up seats facing the street. “Not too long,’ Peter replied. “Why?”

“Just seeing if you’d picked up any quests. Anything you want to share?”

Still unsure if he wanted to share the details of the geas, but desperate for help with it at the same time, Peter thought carefully about his next words. “Uh, not really. I, ah, do have a question though. Do you have, like, ah, you know, house, thingy?”

“House thingy? Like where I live? Oh no. I do not do meatspace friends.” Pham leaned back waving his hands wildly. “You’re an ok kid, but no thanks.” He started to stand a wild look in his eyes.

“Woah, woah, woah, no. Pham, wait. No. I meant here. Well, not here in Averton, but here in The Age,” Peter corrected frantically. “I don’t wanna log on and get kicked in the head by a horse again. I’m just looking for somewhere private to log in and out,” he lied.

Pham eased himself back into his seat. “Oh, sorry. No, that makes more sense. Uh, I had a bad experience with, um, someone, and they found out where I lived and, I’m sorry. I overreacted. It was a bad time and my Gran, she’s just a bit overprotective, you know?” He heaved a heavy sigh. “Soz. Anyhoo, a house in here? You defo don’t have the dosh. I’ma bet you haven’t even made your first g-buck yet.”

Peter raised an eyebrow at the sudden switch in slang. “G-buck? I haven’t been playing MMOs long, this’d be my first to tell the truth, but I have never heard anyone refer to a g-buck, whatever the heck that is.”

Pham reached into his pocket and pulled out a solid gold coin. He placed it on an edge on the table and flicked the side, setting it spinning. “That there’s a g-buck. The old gold. A t’ousand copper in a single coin,” Pham explained in a terrible pirate accent. “A place out in the sticks like Averton? Five hundred of them. In the city? You’re looking at a platinum and up.”

Peter’s eyes tracked the spinning coin across the table. “A platinum? A hundred gold pieces I’m guessing? How does anyone afford that?”

Slamming a hand on top of the coin, then snatching it up and pocketing it fast, Pham smiled. “Quests, Petey. Quests. The crown issues daily hunts, for instance. The merchants in the big cities need goods from the craftsmen, the craftsmen need raw materials from out in the world. They all offer items, xp and coin for any player who fetches it for them. You’ve played RPGs before, haven’t you?”

Peter nodded, “Yeah, just not online. I’m, um, not really good with other people. Not since the day I my implant, I guess. It, uh, you know, it doesn’t matter. You were saying about houses? You don’t have one then?”

“My guild has a hall, but I don’t have a place of my own,” Pham waved a hand dismissively. “It’s not worth it, really. I stash my stuff in my chest at the bank if I don’t need it right away. Besides, there’s upkeep and taxes and all sorts of crap I couldn’t be bothered with. Some of the cray-cray players that have gone native deal with that. Some of them even sink serious moolah into pretending they’re Citizens.”

Peter looked around conspiratorially. The tables around them continued their drinking and eating, paying no heed to the pair of Travellers so casually discussing the mechanics of their world. Peter dropped his voice low, “Rosie, the barmaid, she said there’s some people like that even here in Averton. Why do they get so mad if you recognise them?”

Pham leaned in as well and whispered, “I hear they’re old folks in homes and stuff. Coma patients sometimes. They’ve got the implant so they can play the game but they’re never going to wake up again. That’s why they get mad, they can’t log off. This is the only world they have now, until they die.” He leaned back and checked that nobody was listening in. “I heard, that if you die in the real world and you’re logged into this game, your mind stays here. Forever.”

Peter rocked back in shock, his eyes wide. “Seriously?” That drew some glares and mutters from tables close by. “Sorry, sorry everyone,” he said, placatingly. Quieter, he repeated, “seriously? For real?”

“Scouts honor.” Pham held up three fingers together.

Rocking back in his chair, Peter let out a low whistle. “That’s messed up.”

Pham beckoned him back in. When Peter leaned forward, he continued. “That’s not the messed up part. You wanna hear the messed up part?”

Peter nodded, mute.

“If you die and get stuck in here, you slowly become one of the monsters. They say one of the raid bosses up north used to be the president of the company that made the game. Can you imagine that? Stuck in the world you made, never able to go home, slowly getting angrier and angrier until it just, twists you up into something terrible.”

“Ok, yeah, that IS messed up.”

The two sat in silence for a long minute.

“So.”

“So.”

“What were we talking about?” Pham asked.

“You were going to tell me about how the house interface works,” Peter prompted.

Pham blinked. “Oh, that? Same as everything here. Look right at it and think about interacting with it. Didn’t you read the guide before playing?”

Peter’s cheeks coloured with embarrassment. “Yeah, I sorta just jumped in. It’s that easy?”

Pham pulled out a device from a pocket in his coat. He put it on the table between them. “This is a simple trap I made. It just rings a bell if someone disturbs it, so no-one will get hurt if this goes wrong. Just look right at it, and think about interacting with it.”

Peter followed the instructions and sure enough a pop-up sprang into existence describing it as a simple alarm trap. As he concentrated on interacting with it, more options became available. Arm trap was greyed out, as was disassemble. Activate looked possible though. “So, I just push the button?” he asked.

Pham picked up the device and put it away again. “There’s a bit more to it than that. If you wanted to arm it, you have to go through the actions to do so. They aren’t buttons, they’re just there to let you know what’s possible.”

“And with a house…?”

“Like I said,” explained Pham, “I don’t have one but my guild hall has a leger near the entrance. I usually put my hand on it and it brings up a page with guild dues, guild quest rewards, rankings and stuff. If I was an officer or something, I’m sure it would have more options. But if I want to pay the dues or pull out anything waiting, I still have to go down to the treasury and do it myself.”

Peter nodded along to the explanation. He had noticed that the system made some things easier, like the skinning, but that was censored because he was a minor. It really didn’t hold your hand or treat you like a moron like some of the games he had played did. “That makes sense. I’ll have to have a look around.”

Pham shot him a Look. The kind that deserved the capital letter. “You have a house already?”

A pit formed in Peter’s stomach. He wasn’t ready to explain how he had come by such a windfall, if that was what it was. “No, I mean, when I go into houses here. This game is so real, I bet every house could be bought if you had the money,” he answered, fast. Maybe a little too fast.

The Look continued for a moment longer, then Pham relented. “Just messing with ya Petey. There’s no way you could have picked up a five hunnerd g-bucks in, what, a week? Less?”

Nervously, Peter giggled. “Shyeah. About a week. Ish.”

Peter’s ring pulsed brightly, breaking the tension.

“Izzat a party ring? That your friend Dani?” Pham inquired.

Peter glanced at his hand. “Yeah, Dani gave it to me. I’m guessing that means she’s going to be here soon?”

Sure enough, the massive smokey black steed cantered up shortly. Dani leapt from it’s broad back and it burst into dark streamers that whirled away into the night. She skipped nimbly up into the patio area and greeted them with a cheerful “hello boys, what are we killing tonight?”

“Dani,” greeted Pham with a nod. “You looking to grind or quest? We were just chillin’, hadn’t decided on anything yet. Peter’s got his stick of destiny but no idea how to use it properly yet, maybe some skill ups would be best.”

Dani plopped into the seat beside Peter and leaned on his shoulder. “Your new friend talks funny,” she breathed in his ear. Louder, she continued, “a bit of both, maybe? There’s a farm just north of here that always needs help getting their crop in. The farmhands can’t beat back the crows and gather the corn at the same time and the town can’t spare the guardsmen to protect them. Travellers that lend a hand score some coppers and maybe a nosh if they do a good job. Peter, you can learn to use your weapon better and we all get paid. Sound good?”

“Sounds great to me,” Peter agreed. “Shall we get moving? I have to go to school tomorrow.”

“You want to go out there? Now?” Pham shook his head. “There’s a reason only epic level Travellers go out after dark.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with Baity McTrapface here. If you want to go visit Jacob so bad, walk across the square and say hello. Mum says not to test the dark, and I never have,” Dani added.

At a loss, Peter just shrugged. “So what do you do when it’s night? I mean, other than sleep. I can’t just sit here until light.”

Pham pulled a leather roll from his inventory and laid it on the table. When he pulled the tie holding it closed, it unrolled to reveal an intricate toolkit full of mysterious parts and devices. “‘We prepare. Night is almost over, the sun will be up soon. I’m going to put together some bits and bobs, make our lives a little easier. What do you usually do before heading out?”

Peter spread his hands, “um, nothing, I guess? First timer, remember?”

Dani hooked an arm around his and stood, dragging Peter off the patio towards the cemetery. “Let’s leave Mr Grouchy to do his thing. As long as not too many Travellers have pledged to the chapel here the yard should still have plenty of room. Bye, bye, see you here at sun-up elfie.”

“Room for what?” Peter squeaked out as he was hauled along.

“For you to bounce. The grass there is nice and soft, just like you. I’m going to show you how to use that beautiful weapon I gave you.” Dani kept up the brutal pace as Peter struggled to get his feet under him. Not for the first time, he marveled at how much strength was packed into the petite figure with a steel grip on his arm. “When my quest log showed that you were the one I was supposed to give it to, I assumed you’d know how to use it. When we faced that were-fox the other day you were swinging it like a maid swatting at a mouse, not a bad ass Traveller smiting a monster. It’s time to fix that.”

Inside the walled bone garden, peaceful darkness reigned. Peter found it hard to imagine that any other sort of shadows could exist in this world. Gentle coloured lights illuminated the space in a rainbow as the chandelier inside the chapel shone through the stained glass windows. Dani released him suddenly, causing Peter to stumble and roll on the grass. It truly was soft.

The gravestone that stopped him was not. Peter sat up and rubbed his shoulder that had taken the brunt of the fall. “Ow.”

“Get up ya pansy. I’ve seen you die, like, three times. The last time you got gutted and still held it together,” Dani pouted, mimicking him. “A bump on the shoulder ain’t nothing. Now, where’d you put it?”

Disgruntled at the lack of sympathy, Peter popped open his inventory and pulled out the scythe. The thick wooden shaft just felt right in his hands. He tried examining it the way Pham had said, but no further information was revealed.

“Oi, you two having a moment? Do you need a room?” Dani clicked her fingers in front of his face. “Shall we get on with this?”

Reviere broken, Peter nodded in assent. “Okay. What do you want me to to?”

Dani took his hands and gently but firmly slid them apart. “First up, you need to stop holding her like you’re choking a chicken. Unless you’re going for the coop de gracie, keep your hands wide, like this. Now,” she drew two short swords from over her shoulders, “Try to think of her as three weapons in one. You have a club at this end,” she tapped the bottom end of the shaft, “a staff in the middle,” a second tap between his hands, “and the slicey-dicey at the other end.” The sword’s blade made a ringing sound as it tapped the scythe’s. “I’m going to come at you slowly, and you’re going to defend yourself. Don’t worry about attacking yet, just block the swords.”

Dani stepped back, then came forward again in slow motion, allowing Peter time to focus on the approaching blade and block it with the handle of the scythe. As the second blade came down, he blocked it with the other end, then both stepped back. “Won’t this damage the handle?” he asked, concerned.

“She’ll be fine, she’s tougher than she looks.” Dani replied. “Unless someone has a sundering weapon or skill, you generally don’t haveta worry. I’m going to come in a bit quicker this time, keep up.”

They repeated the motions again and again, a little faster each time. “I think I get it, you’re not trying to hard block the strikes, just turn them,” Peter grinned as understanding began to dawn.

A wide grin split Dani’s face. “Mah boy starts to get it. Good. Now, faster. Let’s see if you can stop me.” She launched into an all out assault and Peter flailed at the incoming blades as fast as he could. Left, right, left right, leftrightleftright…

Whirl, swishh.

“Wha tha hell Peter?” After the last block had twisted the sword right out of Dani’s hand, instinct - or something like it - overrode Peter’s mind and he had spun on his back foot and pulled the scythe in a tight circle right around to stop within an inch of her neck.

Surprised, he dropped the weapon and stared at his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Something took over, I didn’t mean to. What did I do?”

Dani laughed as she picked up the discarded sword and sheathed them both. “Nah, it’s good work. You just caught me off guard for a sec.” She punched him in the arm and laughed even harder at his expression. “Come on, get your weapon. Sun’s up soon. We best not keep the grumpster waiting, he might pout.”

Peter retrieved the scythe and noting the popup in his vision You have been tutored in Weapon Specialisation: Polearm, You have unlocked SubSkill: Scythe. Under the pretense of staching the weapon in his inventory, he checked his Skills tab. Sure enough, Weapon Specialisation: Polearm was up to 1.5% and had a new sub-skill Scythe with a 0.2%.

Another notification was demanding his attention as well, this one in the opposite corner of his vision. A stylised representation of a toilet was blinking yellow, though Peter was sure he could not feel any pressure in his nethers. “Hey, um, Dani. I have to sort something out real quick inside. Do you mind holding up here for a minute?”

“Sure,” she responded. “I was going to get my blades ready for the day anyway. Here’s as good a place as any.” She plonked herself down on a stone bench near the gates. “Thanks for the spar, too. You’re getting better, and I haven’t had a chance to up my mentoring skill in ages. Most Travellers don’t like learning from a little girl for some reason.”

Peter grinned. “Something to do with the girl in question making them look like idiots in the process? Anyway, won’t be long.” He dashed inside the chapel and opened the door to his house.

Instead of wasting time looking for the interface, he logged out and rolled out of bed. As soon as his feet hit the floor the sensation of a full bladder hit him full force and he scrambled for the loo.