“What are we going to do?” Marcelle asked after I landed the chariot behind a small hill.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “It feels like a shame not to even try now that we came all this way.”

Marcelle folded her arms. “You could have saved yourself a lot of trouble if you’d just told us what you intended to do.”

“I’m sorry,” I replied. “It’s hard to trust anybody on this planet. It feels like everyone I meet is reporting to my father.”

“You can count on us,” Ulli replied. “We are loyal to you.”

“I want to trust you,” I sighed. It wasn't that I wanted to lie to any of them. Marcelle and Ulli were the closest things I had to friends on Origin. It felt like the moment I put my true objective into words, it would find its way to Merlin.

We walked halfway around the hill before I got an idea. “Can I see what identification looks like?”

“Sure,” Marcelle replied, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a purse that was way too big to fit. When she noticed my look of surprise, she said, “Pocket dimension. Everyone in the tower gets one.”

The ID card she handed me looked similar to an Adventurer’s Guild ID card.

Marcelle Friedman

Class: Strategist

Job: Tower Ascendant

Current Floor: 101

Age: 20

Restrictions: Upper Floors

Taking out my Guild ID Card, I used the same illusion magic I had on my face to make a few alterations.

Mel Hellquist

Class: Blacksmith

Job: Apprentice

Age: 17

“Would this pass?” I asked, handing my newly doctored card around.

Alfred pointed out my mistakes by showing me his card. “Non-ascendants use a different form of identification.”

Alfred

Class: Aviator

Job: Tower Chauffuer

Rank: B Class

Age: 47

“What does B Class mean?” I asked after looking over his card.

“It’s his rank,” Marcelle explained. “Everyone gets a rank except those who live in the tower.”

“What kind of life does B rank live?” I asked, not sure I liked Merlin’s system very much.

Marcelle was on a roll, explaining the way the world worked. “B rank is the minimum rank allowed tower access. Ulli and I were automatically A ranked the day we were admitted into the tower program. Our families can claim some benefits from our status, but for the most part, each person gets ranked individually. That way everyone is on even footing no matter what family they come from. If you’re a deadbeat, you’ll be ranked F even if you come from a top family.”

I considered how to make my ID while Ulli asked questions. “Why did you choose that surname? Isn’t your surname Murphy?”

“It used to be the last name of someone special,” I replied, feeling a bit melodramatic. “She hated that name though. It was the only thing that came to mind.

Mel Hellquist

Class: Blacksmith

Job: Apprentice

Rank: D Class

Age: 17

“That won’t work,” Marcelle said, shaking her head. “Rank D isn’t allowed to travel outside of their hometown. If someone sees that you’ll be detained while they try to figure out how to send you home.”

In the end, I settled on rank B and no surname. While C technically would have worked, I’d probably still be asked questions about my reason for traveling. C rankers were only allowed to travel in certain circumstances.

“I’d hate to see what F rank people go through,” I said as I slid my newly minted ID into my pocket.

“You really would,” Ulli replied, making a gagging sound after she said it. “They are mostly homeless. When someone drops to F rank, their families usually disown them. You have to be very lazy or very naughty to drop that low.”

Marcelle added. “You don’t have to worry about most F ranks being criminals. If they get re-ranked for that reason, they usually wind up in prison.”

We stopped talking when we approached the bridge leading into Camelot. It was a mechanical draw bridge over a wide moat with green water. A pair of eyeballs of a monster I didn’t recognize looked up at me from the depths. Alfred took all of our IDs to present at the guard's shack built into the side of the gate. We decided he would do the speaking as he was the oldest. A pair of guards looked at him as he approached. “State your business.”

“Tourists,” Alfred replied, his face a mask of professionalism.

One of the guards accepted our IDs while the other stared at Ulli and said, “Those are some mighty attractive daughters you got there. Have you considered allowing them to court a guard? I assure you, I am quite well endowed.”

“Forget it, Gerard,” the first guard said. “They are both tower maidens. Highly ranked at that.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” the second guard said, sitting down. “All the pretty ones get claimed. It’s just my luck.”

I could tell Marcelle wanted to say something but she bit her tongue. The first guard handed the IDs back to Alfred and the gate creaked open. “It looks like everything is in order here. If you plan on staying for more than a day, you will need to check in at the visitor’s office.”

Alfred nodded and accepted our ID cards, handing them back to us. Once we were out of earshot, I asked, “Do guards hit on you like that often?”

Marcelle rolled her eyes. “Not really. Those two were just creeps. It also helps once they know who we are. Nobody messes with a tower maiden. While not guaranteed, harassing us can incur The Creator’s wrath. It has happened in the past.”

“So dad steps in from time to time, eh?” I thought out loud, wondering if Merlin had a magic prison somewhere for people who annoyed him.

Ulli poked Marcelle in the side. “I don’t recall The Creator ever getting involved in events outside of the tower.”

“It has happened!” Marcelle barked, catching herself when her voice drew attention from passers-by.

The presence of futuristic technology like chariot shuttles and the flashing lights of businesses was all that kept Camelot from being the fantasy kingdom I’d read about in books. Old brick-and-mortar buildings lined the busy street that led up the hill to the castle. The roads were clogged with a mix of horse-drawn wagons and magically powered vehicles. People walked the sidewalks oblivious to the clashing of two worlds around them.

I pressed my face to the windows of several shops as we passed. Chain restaurants were sprinkled in between weapon and armor shops. One of the weapons shops caught my eye.

KING ARTHUR’S ANVIL

GET YOUR REPLICA EXCALIBUR HERE

I tugged on Marcelle’s sleeve. “I want one.”

Her eyebrow twitched. “Then go buy one.”

It dawned on me that I didn’t have any local currency. Would gold work? I decided to find out and walked into the shop. A man wearing a blue Merlin robe and a fake beard stood behind a counter. “Can I help you today, Sir?”

He was addressing Alfred, not me. Alfred pointed to me and I said, “I’d like to see Excalibur, please.”

He pointed at the glass case in front of him, where a shiny sword with runes etched in the blade was on display. Again, ignoring me, he turned to Alfred and said, “The blade costs ten thousand credits. You can take it today and pay installments if your credit rating is high enough.”

“Don’t look at me,” Alfred said. “This is your customer.”

The smile that had been plastered on the salesman’s mouth suddenly vanished. “Do you have money, boy?”

I looked over at the others imploringly. Ulli looked away and Marcelle shrugged. “That’s a lot of credits for a souvenir.”

“If you’re looking for cheap, you’re in the wrong place,” the man said. “The price is the price. Can you afford it? If not, I would be more than happy to show you our miniatures though those aren’t exactly cheap either.”

“Do you take gold from other worlds?” I asked, patting my fanny pack.

The man shook his head, holding out a small device. “Sorry, kid. No trades.”

I reached out and placed my hand on the device. A small burst of mana went out of me as my finger made contact with the smooth surface. The device made a satisfying ding, causing the man to look down in surprise. “Oh! Well, I guess that’s that then. Would you like me to wrap it for you?”

I watched in shock as he removed the blade from the case and set it on the counter. From there I could read the writing etched into its surface.

Who so pulleth out this sword of this stone and anvil is rightwise king born of Albion.

“Albion?” I questioned. “Shouldn’t that say Camelot?”

The shopkeeper shook his head. “It wasn’t always called Camelot. Before the days of Arthur, it was known as Albion. The true sword vanished centuries ago. Some say it was reclaimed by the lady of the lake. This here is as accurate of a copy as you’ll ever see. It was created based on testimony provided by some of our most ancient Camelotian scholars.”

“Ooh, I’d like to meet them,” I said, excited to learn more about one of my favorite folktales. Or was it just world history on Origin?

“Fat chance of that happening,” the shopkeeper replied. “They aren’t part of the tour.”

Rather than wrapping the blade, I forced it into my fanny back. Ulli gave me a curious look as we left the shop. “What are you going to do with that thing?”

“Well, it’s pretty big,” I explained. “I think I’m going to use it as the basis for my mana blade from now on. How cool would it be to have a mana Excalibur? A Manascalibur.”

“I was surprised you could afford that,” Marcelle said. “That was expensive, even for us.”

“Do you make a lot?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Not really. It’s just that we don’t have any expenses in the tower so it’s easy to save.”

“How do I find out how much money I have?” I asked, becoming curious.

“You can check at a bank,” Marcelle replied. “There’s one over there.”

First Bank of Camelot, Where every account is the top priority

I headed for the door but Marcelle stopped me. “Just use the machine. It’s quicker if you just want to check your balance.”

I laughed when I saw what looked like an ATM. It had the same tiny screen and darkened window where a camera would go. Instead of a card reader, I discovered another one of the flat surfaces. I looked back at Marcelle. “What are these things anyway? How did I know who I was? Is it a magic fingerprint reader?”

She shook her head. “It’s an aura scanner. It reads your mana. No two people have the same imprint, so it’s an ideal way of identifying yourself. It’s used everywhere on Origin.”

I reached down to touch the aura scanner.

Welcome, Melvin Murphy

1. Withdrawal

2. Deposit

3. Transfer

4. Account Balance

I pressed the four that appeared on the screen.

Account Balance: Unlimited

Would you like to make another transaction? Y/N?

We all stared at my balance for a few seconds before Alfred let out a low whistle. “Well, you are The Creator’s son, after all, Lord Melvin. It would only make sense that you’d be set financially.”

“I guess that means he predicted I’d go out,” I sighed, looking around at people in the area to see if they’d noticed Alfred call me The Creator’s son. “Also, remember, I’m just Mel today.”

Alfred stiffened. “Oh, right, sorry Sir…uh…Mel.”

“No problem,” I replied, hitting cancel on the ATM before leaving. We wandered through the busy streets, Ulli giving me a tour of the various cuisines offered by the chain restaurants. “This restaurant hails from a planet called Quackalot where a race of duck men called the Pouldarians hail from. They eat a mostly vegetarian diet but you can find some interesting dishes from their world at The Duckish Delight.”

“I know a duck man!” I bellowed. “His name was, um, Howie! That’s right, Howie McDuckenStein. He was my teacher. He’s the one who taught me of Origin’s existence.”

Before anyone could answer, a commotion broke out at a nearby building. A man shouted at a young woman who had fallen in the street clutching a thick blanket to her chest. “I’ve told you before! We don’t treat filth. If you want help, go to the church.”

“Please!” The girl begged. She had dirty blonde hair like me and a defiant look on her face that reminded me of Kalli. The girl continued. “You have to help him. He’s going to bleed to death.”

Before I knew it, I was sprinting over to the commotion with the rest of the group in hot pursuit. The man from the building which I realized was a clinic, asked, “Who are you?”