Early the next morning Valethalassa set off for her uncle’s chambers. She wanted to see if he had any further parting wisdom, or if he needed to see Ian again before they departed. She dressed in her usual leather armor topped by her green cloak. She’d tamed her blonde locks into a high ponytail. Her bow rested across her back and she had a full quiver of arrows hanging from her hip. On her lower back, a crisscrossed pair of blades rested in their sheaths.

Mal had, in his way, insisted on carrying her gear as he followed faithfully alongside. It was only one satchel, a spare quiver, and a water pouch since they were going to the city and not back into the wilds. All of it was strapped to a harness of custom leather that Valethalassa had put on him this morning.

When they reached the camouflaged bark staircase, Valethalassa found the magical palm pad unresponsive to her touch. She ignored the nagging sensation of alarm, reminding herself the only possible way to deactivate the stairs was by The Seer’s spell work. It was not unusual for him to seal them when he was in the thrall of a vision, or even a particularly complex calculation. Still, it took a nudge from Mal to convince her that it was time to leave.

With no other recourse, she retraced the path she took the previous night to reach the Star Tree Inn. Upon entering the Inn Lirey directed Valethalassa to the dining hall. The Ranger found Ian finishing his breakfast alone in the dining area. While he had attempted to clean himself up, his clothing remained a sorry sight. If she hadn’t known any better, she would have labeled him as a vagrant and one who had seen more than a few hard days at that.

“Fortunes greetings, Gent McClintoc,” She said as she slipped into a chair across from him. “We need to get you some new clothing.”

Ian glanced down at himself and shrugged. His mouth was full of food. His massive breakfast was a sampling of everything the hotel served. Fruits, vegetables, and loaves of bread piled high on one plate, and a second held nothing but a heap of eggs, the only meat item that Ian could find.

He was chewing a mouthful of Teralass fruit. They were similar to kumquats in size and shape, with chewy yellow skin and juicy red innards. The taste, however, was something else entirely, it reminded Ian of the homemade tiramisu at Porcini Pizza. A little taste of home and a bitter reminder. It was his mother's favorite restaurant. He motioned for her to join him with a wave before he pushed in another mouthful of food. Ian was in some sort of vegetarian heaven. The spices, preparation, and presentation of the food made each bite better than the last. He tried to fend off Vale from taking the last bite of his fruit with a protesting sound but only succeeded in sending juice dribbling down his chin.

Vale deftly helped herself to a few pieces of Teralass, ignoring Ian’s protest with a roll of her eyes. She grabbed another piece of fruit from the basket on a neighboring table and replaced her plundered meal.

Ian took a hard swallow and followed it a gulp of hot ginger cider.

“Good morning Vale,” Ian mumbled around his napkin as he wiped at his chin. He swept his hand across the buffet before him, “This stuff is amazing! You eat this all the time?”

“Well, yes. Though usually not in such great quantities. Or with so much of it missing our mouths,” she teased.

Vale found herself feeling much more lenient towards Ian this morning. After all, The Seer had confirmed his story, which allowed her to relax her guard and look at things from his perspective. And in doing so she thought he was taking it all remarkably well. Vale watched him wondering how she might react if she were forced into a similar situation. Regardless, she had no reason to believe that he was a threat. He needed help, and she was going to give it because that was the right thing to do, orders or not. Starting with his clothing.

“Once you have finished your breakfast, we are going to get you some new clothes. After that, we are heading to Raxal to complete a mission at The Seer’s command. I will explain the details on the way,” Vale said.

Ian nodded as though he knew what she was talking about. He quickly finished his breakfast, doing his best yet failing spectacularly in his attempt to not be a complete slob in front of his gracious host. Vale chose to ignore his lack of table manners and dropped a few tils on the table as they left. The til was perfectly pressed and made of dark gray metal. Lirey had explained til being the currency of Paragore to Ian last night when he’d used the pscry to ask about food. The meal finished, they left the Inn and headed down to the Forest Floor district of Landorei.

“The humans here prefer to live in ground dwellings. As such, there are a few villages in the Forest Floor District,” Vale explained as they walked along the manicured pathways. Soon they came to a village that reminded Ian of motel art depicting quaint log cabins in the woods of New England. They strolled along the main village lane, which could not have been more than thirty dwellings, only seeing a handful of humans milling about the streets. It was a clear indication that humans were a very small minority here.

“I had assumed that there was some elvish law against chopping down trees, but I guess that isn’t the case based on these houses?” Ian asked.

“No, it is not against the law, but it is not a common practice either. The humans here elected to build their homes in the manner with which they were familiar. We wanted to make them feel welcomed, so the Druidic Council allowed it. The only stipulation being that they must use all that they took from the forest.”

She led him through the village, stopping to greet a couple of humans along the way. Ian found their conversations to be pleasant small talk. He watched Vale from this refreshing new perspective. She impressed Ian with how personable she could be. And equally impressive to him was that no one commented on either his disheveled appearance or the massive wolf by their side. In fact, a pair of children were sneaking Mal treats when they thought that Vale wasn’t looking.

Between interactions with the other humans, Vale gave a summary of The Seer’s instructions for their mission. Ian had several questions, but before he could ask them they had reached their destination. It was a small shop in the middle of the log houses, with a hand-carved wooden sign hanging above the door. It depicted a needle with a thread slipped through the eye with the words Gerty’s Seam Needs etched above it. Vale and Ian entered while Mal parked himself outside the door to wait. He had circled a spot on the ground before settling as if he were nothing more than an oversized house pet today.

Inside the shop, an accommodating seamstress named Marjorie was only too happy to assist Ian. She took his measurements with a stretchy bit of string that she called a yar. All while chatting away with the pair. She told the pair all about her three children, her husband who worked at the Laughing Flower Bar, and her elderly mother who was the store’s namesake.

Unsurprisingly she had nothing in the shop in Ian’s exact size. She brought out various shirts and pants that she had not yet hemmed to size and found an outfit that would work. Vale spent the entire time nit-picking the clothing choices, insisting they be suitable for running and heavy use. It reminded Ian starkly of his college love, Marci, and how she used to do the same thing when they shopped in department stores.

In the end, Ian still needed something to wear today. The sleeves of the white shirt that he’d picked out were too short and only came down to his forearms. The middle hung off his fit frame and billowed out at his sides, but it would function. The simple brown, pocketless pants were not quite long enough either, coming to a stop above his ankle. It would be enough to pass muster in a public setting.

When Ian looked at himself in the mirror, the words pirate and romance novel came to mind. Still, he was grateful for something clean and untorn. He’d slipped a belt through two loops on the pants. Vale offered Ian a leather pouch to hang from his belt.

The pouch had a simple drawstring to open and close it. Ian emptied the pockets of his ruined work pants and slipped his phone, wallet, and badge into the pouch, pulling the string tight. He slid his gun holster over the other end of the belt and around to the back of his new ensemble. With everything in place, he cinched the belt tight and adjusted the back of the shirt to hang over his weapon, concealing it.

“What do you think?” Ian asked, attempting to look rakish and debonair.

Vale smiled and even managed to keep herself from laughing outright as Ian struck his pose. She spun back towards the Marjorie without comment, “Thank you. We will take these items, but could you please also start on a new outfit based on his measurements? I shall trust your expertise for the fabrics and patterns.”

“Of course, dear,” Marjorie nodded, “It’ll be ready in a few days. Would you like to add shoes in with that?” She asked while heading back towards the front of the shop, pulling out a thick leather ledger to write up the order. “And where should I have it delivered?”

“Send it to my lodgings, please,” Vale said.

They were unable to locate any manner of footwear that would fit Ian. Which left him in his ill-suited dress shoes. For the sake of his blistered feet, Vale decided that they would have to make a stop in Raxal rather than wait for new ones to be crafted here. Vale gave Marjorie all the necessary details and produced a flat colorless exchange crystal from her side pouch. It glowed green when Marjorie swiped across the top of the till. With their goods paid for they left the store.

“Next stop will be the Transmission Spring,” Vale said, rousing Mal on their way out.

Mal’s ears immediately sunk when he heard the words as if someone had mentioned a trip to the vet.

“This particular piece of ingenuity didn’t come from the gnomes, but from a combined effort of all races. The Transmission Springs, an integral part of the Cataclysmic War, is now a means of swift transportation across the world. The Springs allowed the Reclaimer’s Army to move entire battalions around in mere minutes. It saved numerous lives as the Nyeberian offensive was unpredictable,” Vale explained.

Traveling via teleportation! Ian couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face.

“Back on Earth, teleportation is a dream. Our scientists, who I suppose you could call our equivalent of wizards, are still trying to figure out if it’s even possible. I’ve been dreaming about this since I was a child. Poof!” Ian made a gesture and took a small hop, “Now I’m a thousand miles away.”

“Well, the Arcanum Adjustment Guild works tirelessly to maintain the network of Transmission Springs dotted throughout the realms. As do the members of the Order of Brass to guard them. That translates to hefty passage fees, making them more of an extravagance than a daily routine. Luckily for you, Rangers and their guests are granted unlimited access for the sake of our duties, at least from Landorei," Her tone one of youthful excitement, like a teenager getting her first privileges with her parent’s car.

As they passed through the entrance into a narrow garden, a fountain of pure gleaming silver came into view. Water flowed from a central sculpture, an elf holding up a staff with water pouring down his flowing robes. The water dripped down the pedestal beneath the elf statue and into a basin that was the size of a backyard swimming pool. Arcane symbols had been etched all along the edges of the basin.

A ring of elven guards surrounded the Transmission Spring. All of them clad in tan leather armor with dark blue sashes. Long malicious halberds snapped to attention as Vale stepped up to the Spring. Every sash, Ian noted, bore a round brass symbol molded into the shape of a shield ringed by a sun.

An elf with a slightly modified uniform, it included a cape, stepped forward to converse with Vale. Ian surmised that he oversaw the Spring and hung back with Mal as words were exchanged in elvish. She was brief, and the caped elf snapped to attention before gesturing for her to pass through the ring of guards. She waved Ian on, calling for Mal to follow.

The wolf bounded towards the pool a pace behind Ian with some trepidation in his eyes. When he reached the edge of the basin Vale gave him a reassuring pat on his neck. The circular pool of water was only a few inches deep but frothed with white foam as though it had the power of a churning ocean. Mal waited for Vale to step in and call to him before he followed, flicking his paws a bit as the cold water covered them.

“Step into the spring and clear your mind,” Vale said to Ian once Mal was settled.

Ian took her hand, surprised to find it soft and smooth. He’d expected it to be calloused from years of archery and living in the wilds.

She guided him into the pool without dropping his hand. “Now, when your mind is clear keep it that way. I’ll guide us all to Raxal since you have no idea where it is.” She squeezed his hand sensing his tension, “It won't hurt, you will feel a slight pulling sensation and then we’ll be there.” She offered him a genuine smile. “Trust me.”

Vale closed her eyes and relaxed her body, going through the familiar steps to use the Spring.

Ian watched her for a moment and then let out a sigh following her example. It was difficult to clear his mind when so many new things were going on around him. He wanted to watch the spring in action, wanted to ask her many more questions about how it worked. His mind was racing, and he had to fight each and every thought out of his head. Vale stretched out her other hand and gently grabbed a fistful of Mal's fur. Ian scrunched up his face as he concentrated on nothing. The odd thought about his caseload, or his mother, or his favorite games kept popping into his head. Vale gave his hand another squeeze and he let out a breath.

Nothing… Nothing… Thinking about nothing. Ian mentally chanted.

“If we were to think of different places, we could end up at a completely random location between the two,” Vale’s voice cut into Ian’s already faltering concentration.

This sounded like an important warning, but her tone wasn’t anxious, so he expected that it was a rare occurrence for someone to screw it up. No point worrying - surely even an idiot can do this if she’s trusting me to go through it with her and her faithful hound, Ian thought. He squeezed her hand back in acknowledgment. His body tensed as light seeped in through his closed eyelids. The glow increased in intensity, causing him to raise his free arm in a fruitless attempt to shield his eyes. A faint hum began resonating at the base of his skull.

For some reason, Ian felt it was necessary to brace for impact, but that impact never came. He felt a brief tug at his waist and then nothing. The light, the hum, the splashing sound of water were all gone.