“I tire of your pleas. I will show you the same mercy you have shown me.” She stabs her sword into his chest.

Aithne heads back to the carriage. “Alistair! Come here!”

Alistair walks back from behind the carriage with his two swords dripping in blood. “Yes, m'lady.”

“I have a splinter- take it out.” She places her arm on the carriage and straightens it out.

Alistair sheaths his swords. “Yes, m’ lady. It is a terrible splinter, indeed.” He breaks the tip of the bolt. “On three, m'lady.” He grips the shaft. “One… Two…”

Aithne clenches her teeth in anticipation of pain.

“Three.”

Alistair pulls the bolt out, cleanly and swiftly. He quickly wraps it with a bandage, stopping the bleeding.

“Thank you, Alistair. Are you alright?”

“Yes, m'lady ."

“Good, let's get going.”

Clyde's mind is amok. The amount of spells she cast, the incantation rules- Everything is the same. Magic exists in this world, and it’s based off of the magic in the LARP I played!

Aithne climbs into the carriage, cradling her arm. She sits to Clyde’s left. “Did you enjoy the entertainment?”

“You were amazing!! I’ve never seen someone play a mage that way!”

“Play a mage? Do not insult me, I am a mage.”

Clyde shrinks back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. It's just that, we didn't have magic in my world. We had to pretend to be a mage.

“Your world does not have mana?”

“No, not a bit. All magic was fiction. It certainly wasn’t real like what I just saw. What type of spell list do you have?”

Aithne side-eyes Clyde. “Mages don’t share such intimate details, as it can determine a win or loss in battle.” She then scoots over toward him, touching their arms together. “Where did we leave off? Oh, yes… getting to know each other.”

Clyde slowly moves away. “Is Allistair a warrior then?”

Aithne “Yes, he is. He is one of the most skilled warriors I have ever seen.”

Clyde’s eyes widen with excitement. “Are Einherjar, Rogue, Archer, Fusilier, Priest, Druid, Bard, and Artificer the other classes then?”

Aithine “Yes, those are all the classes, how do you have such knowledge?”

“I know them because of a LARP I participated in. We would act as those classes. That’s why I said ‘play mage’ earlier. Though, I have no idea why a LARP system would be based off of this world’s magic or classes...”

Aithne shrugs. “Perhaps, someone went from this world to yours?” Tilting her head, Aithne adds, “Did you realize you left out a class? Peasant. They have no abilities, since they haven't awakened their class”

“What do you mean by 'Awakened their class’?”

“People have to awaken their class through a ritual or through their will. It's generally done through baptism, as it’s the most controllable.”

Clyde furrows his brow. “How does a baptism work then?”

“A special potion is used in a pool; when a person goes into the pool, it forces his or her core to awaken, which unlocks the class.”

“Wait, a core? What is a core?”

Aithine replies. “It allows a person to control and regulate the mana within themselves to cast magic and perform martial feats. Every person and monster has one.”

She touches Clyde’s chest where his heart is, and slowly moves her fingers just to the left of it. “It is across from your heart. That’s why some call it a magic heart. It branches throughout your entire body, almost like a tree.” Aithne continues moving her fingers along Clyde’s body- to his stomach, then down above his groin before pausing. “Monsters and beasts even have cores.” She hovers her hand over his groin a moment, then rests it on his thigh. “Many monsters are killed for their cores, as they have desirable effects. On the market, they are called magic stones.”

Unphased by Aithne’s advances, Clyde ponders briefly before looking back at Aithne. “Do you level up to unlock your abilities?”

“Level up? That’s one way to put it, I guess... People learn their abilities, and you have to learn the most basic ones before the advanced ones. You could say the same for love. First, you hold hands, then kiss, and then-”

Clyde interrupts, “But what about abilities that aren’t class specific, such as unique talents that only certain people have. In the LARP, there were special abilities people earned and were given.”

Aithne lets out a heavy sigh and purses her lips. “They’re called gifts. They are used in combat and can greatly affect the person's combat prowess. Unlike mundane magics, which have almost no practical use on the battlefield.”

Clyde leans forward. “Mundane magic?”

Aithne grabs her staff lightly with her left hand. 'Flame of fire, come forth and light thee kindle.' She chants as she snaps her fingers. Just like a stricken match, a small flame ignites at the tip of her right index finger. Aithne holds it up to Clyde. “Magic that isn’t useful for combat, but useful in everyday life. This spell is called Lighter. It uses a mana per minute and only creates a small flame. It is the most basic fire spell. You technically have mundane magics. You are able to understand my words and speak my tongue without ever learning the language.”

Clyde looks away from the flame and once again loses himself in thought. Mundane magic would be the role play magic in the rule book, no doubt about it. There is a wide variety of magic that emulates technology, but it often comes with long incantations, heavy mana costs, and not being useful in combat. All the abilities were just called role play abilities, though, not magic.

Clyde asks amidst his thinking, “Do you need anything to cast magic?”

“Catalysts. Wands and staves can take the place of catalysts.” Aithne gestures to her staff. “I’m able to cast any spell without a catalyst, as long as I hold the staff.”

Looking dull, Aithne wags her finger to extinguish the flame and sits back up, folding her arms. “Enough. Go help Alistair.”

A disappointed Clyde steps out of the carriage. But there was so much more to talk about…

He approaches Alistair. “Aithne sent me. Do you need help with anything?”

Alistair throws him a shovel. “Start filling in the hole.”

Clyde proceeds to slowly fill up the hole with loose dirt as Alistair hops back on the carriage. Every once in a while, he drives it forward and backward to compact the dirt and prevent the wheel from being buried, until it was free from the ditch.

Satisfied, Alistair slides back off the carriage, and gestures for Clyde to follow. He walks to one of the bodies, and pulls it to the side of the road. “Take off their armor and collect their equipment.”

“Yes, sir,” Clyde says, as he begins looting the bodies. He notices that, on Alistair’s victims, every single one had cuts and stabs through the neck and throat. They were clean and efficient kills- marks of a professional. He is surely a master of the sword, Clyde thought. So precise and deadly accurate... No normal person could do this.

Clyde drags the last body in line- that of the crossbow bandit. He removes the equipment from the corpse and, upon pulling off the mask, lets out an audible gasp. “Alistair!”

Alistair comes up to Clyde. “What is it?”

Clyde looks up at Alistair, gesturing to the corpse. “I know this man. He was one of the guards at the brothel.”

“Is that so?” Alistair scans the other bodies. “What about the others?”

Clyde quickly examined each face in the lineup of dead men, until he recognized another of the guards. ”This one, too, but I don’t know about the other ones.”

Alistair gazes back at the bodies of the guards.“...Finish looting their bodies. I need to take care of the trees in our way.”

As Clyde continues on, Alistair retrieves the bandit axe that was stuck in the tree and raises it above his head. “Cleave!” he shouts, as he brings down the axe with enough force to snap the tree in twine, like a small twig. After doing so three more times, Alistair rolled away six large logs, roughly the size of the carriage.

Alistair wipes the sweat from his brow. “Are you done yet, Clyde?”

“Just finished!” Clyde replies, trotting back to the carriage.

”Good. Get up in the driving seat.”

Clyde complies, but notices Alistair drawing his sword as he went back to the line of bodies. A moment later, he returned holding two bloody sacs. Clyde understood them to be heads, as the bags clearly outlined their shape. Alistair threw them in the back of the carriage, alongside the axe and other equipment, before seating himself back at the reins.

Alistair glances at Clyde, and whips the horses. The two ride in silence. Along the way, Clyde tries to make idle chat, but to no avail.