Bog Standard Isekai

The small town of Talra was only a half hour walk from the Order's castle, and since Brin actually walked, he was the last to arrive. He'd only been cooped up in that castle for a couple weeks, and he'd only been officially enlisted for a few days. The other guys had gone months without a day of freedom, so they were a fair bit more eager.

Brin didn't know what they were so excited for. Talra was tiny. About two dozen small homes in a ring around a mostly empty town square. The only thing worth seeing at all was the Inn and the Tavern and both of those buildings were new; probably built this spring to cater to the soldiers who'd begun to swarm the area.

According to Cid, if the Lance didn't make too much trouble today, they'd be allowed to take their next free day in Fortmouth, which was an hour away on horseback. Brin would make sure there wasn't trouble, because he needed to make more glass weapons and he couldn’t do it here. Forget having a glassworks; Talra didn't even have a smithy.

When he got to town, he found the rest of the Lance milling around uselessly, probably unsure of what to do now that they were here. Honestly, what did they expect? Brin actually had business here. After all, Sion was in town.

The house wasn't marked by anything in particular, but Brin found it easily with an Invisible Eye. He marched up and opened the door without knocking.

Inside, Sion jumped, startled and turned around. His expression relaxed when he saw it was Brin.

"Ah, you startled me. How embarrassing, because I even knew to expect you." Sion nodded to Marksi, who'd also ran ahead. The dragonling was laying on a dining table, nestled around a plate full of grapes. When he saw Brin, he pulled the plate closer to himself, as if worried Brin would try to steal them.

Brin laughed and shook his head. "I could've guessed. So what's going on here?" He gestured at the room, which was covered with Sion's luggage and traveling boxes; there was no way he was going to unpack everything in this tiny house. He had one suitcase open and appeared to have been going through clothes when Brin had startled him. The only other thing that looked to have been opened was a case of papers and documents. Many of them were already covering a nearby writing desk.

The house was an old, lived-in cottage for country commoners, but Sion thrust his arms wide as if welcoming someone to a lavish mansion. "Do you like it? I decided to purchase accommodations for myself, for as long as I am to serve as a go-between between your Order and my family."

"Indeed. [Lieutenant] Lyssa was more than generous in her offer to let me stay in the keep, it is true. There I had meals provided, shelter, and servants to see to my needs. They even went so far as to tidy my documents for me and sort my mail."

"Ah, you needed privacy. Lyssa was probably reading your mail, not just sorting it," said Brin.

"No! Lyssa, who has shown me such kindness? I would never accuse such a dear benefactor of something like that. How could I ever, out loud or in public, accuse her of intercepting my mail? Speaking of which, many of the return letters from my family have recently arrived. I expect I'll be quite busy in the following weeks!"

Brin shook his head. "What's going on with that lady, anyway?"

"So you haven't heard? There are certain rumors."

"What rumors?"

"My friend, you wound me. Do you really think me the kind of man who repeats base speculation?" asked Sion.

"Of course not. Since you are a gentleman, you avoid such trivialities. In fact, you should tell me what they are so that I can avoid them as well."

"Good, in that case, you should avoid letting anyone tell you that Galan slew her brother in combat, whereupon Lyssa immediately left home and came to join Galan's retinue," said Sion.

Brin frowned. "We need to tell him."

Sion shrugged. "Perhaps you should. Only, how could he not already know? She didn’t even bother to hide her last name."

Brin shook his head. “So she’s what? A spy? This doesn’t make any sense.”

“There’s a lot here that doesn’t make sense,” said Sion. “The might of three nations are gathered here in Prinnash. Four, if you count Theranor, but no one–”

“Why wouldn’t you count Theranor?” Brin asked.

“They sent a token force of a hundred men and a martial order with only one [Knight],” said Sion.

That one [Knight] was actually a [Paladin], if Brin guessed correctly. Brin hoped Sion would elaborate. He didn’t ask, though, because the fact that they knew this secret was a key tactical advantage, and a single whisper that Brin the Mistaken was asking around about the Order of the Golden Ivory might be enough to blow everything. He didn’t ask, and Sion didn’t elaborate.

“All these armies, but no one knows when the invasion will happen or who will lead it,” said Sion. “My father always says ‘follow the money’ and the money points to the invasion happening this year–”

“How so?”

“No one brought [Farmers]. Prinnash has opened their stores, and the rest is supplied with expensive wagon trains. If they meant to stay longer than a year, they all would’ve brought their own [Farmers]. But since they haven’t, they must mean to win or retreat inside before it would be necessary. Other than that, I have no clue. There are no councils of leaders, and only a fool would try to coordinate the invasion of a [Witch] Queendom through correspondence. It’s almost as if no one knows what is going on at all! Ah, but I begin to ramble.”

“Don’t stop there! You hardly ever get a good rant going. Let it out,” said Brin.

“Very well, in that case I shall tell you that your Galan is too agreeable by half. Not only does he refuse to expel an obvious spy, I fear that he is being used by every other army as an errand boy. He goes running at the call of [General] Chulainn, and this is understandable because the [General] may well be the de facto leader of the Ollandish contingent. But Galan is also often dashing away to answer to the heads of the other Ollandish Orders. The Order of the Oblique Horizon, the Order of the Bear, and the Order of the White. He also runs off to organize logistical matters for Pombe, the Prinnashian general, and I’ve seen him open his stores of precious enchanting materials to the Order of the Luminous Serpent from Frenaria. He is hardly ever here with his own Order, and absolutely never has time to pursue growth in levels.”

Brin sighed. “That sounds like Galan. He has a strong sense of duty.”

“A leader has a duty to practicality, does he not? But that is enough from me; truly, I do not wish to lambast your commander. He is a great man, surely better than you or I.”

“I can’t argue with that. So what’s going on here? Need some help unpacking?”

“Oh, no, my friend, I couldn’t possibly…”

That was a ‘yes’, so Brin got to it. Many of the bags would have to stay close; there really wasn’t room in the small house to do anything with Sion’s clothes, but they could at least pull out all the things he used for his work.

Luckily, they found a [Woodworker] in town who was able to throw together a few simple shelves. After an hour or two of work, which consisted mostly of Brin watching Sion arrange and rearrange the documents, books, and ledgers, they declared their work done. Sion had a suitable office.

After that, it was still a bit early for lunch, but they didn’t have anything better to do so they set out for the tavern. Only, they didn’t get very far, because he was immediately treated to the sight of his Lance causing trouble.

Brych, Meredydd, Cowl, and Govannon were standing in a ring around two girls backed against a wall, who both looked a bit nervous. Wait a second–he recognized one. That was Cati Breckon, the [Cook’s Apprentice] he’d met in the servant’s kitchen the other night. She was saying something to the men with a pained smile on her face, and all but shielding the other girl with her body.

How had this happened? Brin was smarter than this. He’d set an Invisible Eye to watch the men, hadn’t he? But that Invisible Eye was being guided by a directed thread which might not be smart enough to figure out what trouble looked like.

Main: Which thread is responsible for watching the Lance?

Task Manager: Thread DT3

Main: DT3, please transcribe the recent conversation.

DT3: Transcribing

~

Meredydd: …asking where you were from

Cati: I’m not from Talra, sir, but Awsta grew up here. Now–

Brych: Can Awsta speak for herself?

Cati: She can, sir. Now if you’ll just–

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

Brych: Then why doesn’t she?

Cati: She will if she wishes, sir.

Awsta: I can speak, sir.

Cati: Now if you’ll let us get back to our chores…

Brych: What’s the hurry? Surely it could wait.

Cati: No hurry, sir, now if you’ll excuse us.

Meredydd: Hold on. We haven’t asked you–

His directed thread was just reading this as a normal conversion, understanding none of the context. The men were probably missing the context too, due to the fact that both girls were smiling. He was fairly confident that they’d eventually give up and stop eventually, but he wasn’t going to wait for that to happen. He would put a stop to it now.

This made him miss his friends, even Zilly, which was a strangely uncomfortable feeling.

“Alright, what’s all this about?” Brin said, pushing his way between his Lancemates and the girls.

“Nothing. Just talking,” said Brych.

“Talking. Is this what talking looks like? [Knights] are surely elevated folk, because their ideas of talking are much above my understanding,” said Sion.

“This is none of your business, Brin” said Govannon, and then looking to Sion, he added. “I don’t even know who you are.”

“Not my business? I decide what is my business. You are Govannon Boal, yes? You are Dectant, correct? Dectant protects the honor of the Lance. Dectant does not harass the local women.”

Govannon started to grow red, “We weren’t–”

“They weren’t harassing us, sir,” said the pale, delicate looking girl who must’ve been Awsta. According to [Inspect], she was a sixteen-year-old [Crop Protector], a Class focused on warding off insects and other pests.

“She stands up for you? She has the heart of a [Knight]! You have the heart of a skunk. Go away, skunk!”

Govannon’s gauntleted hands made fists, but Cowl put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s just go.”

Govannon glared at Brin for a moment, and for a second he wondered if the [Page] was going to pull a knife. He made a “tsk” sound and turned his back, and the other three followed him, marching in the direction of the tavern.

When they were down the road and out of sight, Awsta sighed and said, “Thank you, sir.”

Brin opened his mouth to deny that he should be called ‘sir’, but no, that was actually correct now, as strange as it was. It was one thing to be called that inside the halls of the Order’s keep, it felt natural to respect rank and social classes there, but here in public it was strange. Since his mouth was already open, he said, “I apologize for their behavior.”

Cati shook her head. “No need. I had it handled.”

“In their defense, I think they still think of themselves as Common villagers. I don’t think they realize how it feels to get surrounded by four men in armor,” said Sion.

“Nevertheless, I thank you both, sirs,” said Awsta.

“Oh, no sir for me, and I believe I am making my friend quite jealous when I say this, but I am a quite Common and humble [Merchant],” said Sion.

“Oh! Then you must be the one who bought the Rowland house!” said Awsta.

“The same,” said Sion.

“Let me buy you both lunch, as a thank you! And as a getting-to-know-you, assuming you plan to stay here in town.”

Brin and Sion made eye contact for a moment, and Brin said, “Lunch sounds nice, but–”

“Oh no, I’ve said something wrong. Cati, help me,” said Awsta.

“I believe,” Cati said slowly, eying Sion and Brin up and down like pieces of meat, “that you just offered to buy a meal for two of the richest young men in Prinnash.”

“Untrue,” said Sion.

“Preposterous,” said Brin.

“Really,” said Cati, as a statement, completely not buying their fibs.

“It’s my family’s money,” said Sion.

“None of my money even arrived in Prinnash yet,” said Brin.

“Oh, this is even better then. I bet you’re always paying; you never get treated. I might even get an Achievement!” said Awsta.

Brin hesitated, but honestly didn’t see the harm in it. In Hammon’s Bog, a meal at the public house had been well within the allowance of most kids pre-System Day, and Awsta looked to be two years post-System Day.

And… he hated that his mind went straight to the [Witch] rules of hospitality, but if there was any trace of Wyrd, Brin would sense it long before it touched him or his friend.

“In that case, I’d be delighted. I especially want to see the look on Sion’s face when he’s forced to let someone else pay for something for once,” said Brin.

“I will try to endure,” said Sion seriously. “Though I thank Eridu that I purchased a house here in town; that way it will be easy for you to carry me back home should my heart fail me.”

“Oh, but we would have to go to the tavern,” said Awsta. “There’s really no place else–”

“They won’t bother you again,” said Brin.

“Are you their commander?” she asked.

“I’m their Second,” said Brin.

“Oh.” Awsta’s face crinkled in worry, but then Cati said, “No, the Second is better. Trust me.”

They walked towards the Tavern side by side, and after a moment, Sion asked, “You know, your Prinnashian when talking to your men was much poorer than it is now.”

Brin rubbed his face. “Don’t remind me. I started doing it without thinking and now it’s a habit I can’t seem to shake. I think it makes me sound more intimidating, and I need all the help I can get.”

“Pio,” said Sion.

“What about him?”

“You’re acting like Pio,” said Sion.

“Don’t be stupid, I’m not… Sancta Solia I’m Pio! I can’t believe this! Why didn’t I realize I’ve become Pio? I’m even doing the accent!”

“Who’s Pio?” asked Cati.

“He was a [Beast Master], and second in command of the caravan me and Sion traveled with,” said Brin. “And I’m totally acting like him. You know, I just suggested to Cid the other day that he should pick a leader that he respects and just pretend to be him, and here I’ve been doing the same thing the whole time without realizing it.”

Sion laughed. “At least you’re wearing a shirt.”

“Why?” asked Awsta. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re wearing a shirt. Not to say that if you weren’t… what I mean is, why do you say that?”

Brin grinned. “Pio never wore a shirt. So at least in that way, I’m not like him.”

“And he was a [Beast Master], right? You also don’t have any animals,” said Awsta. Then noticing a knowing glance from Sion, she added, “Do you?”

Brin didn’t spot Marksi anywhere, but that didn’t mean he was nearby. He raised his voice, “You might as well come out, Marksi! Nobody is angry with me anymore! He’s sensitive to that sort of thing, you know.”

Marksi undid his camouflage and appeared on the road ahead of them. Cati gasped in surprise, and Awsta made a squeal of delight. Marksi stood and moved to the side, striking a pose so that his form could best be admired in profile. Then he stepped lightly and proudly as a cat towards the group, so that he could receive his due affection.

Brin picked him up first and gave him a few scritches before handing him over to Awsta, who needed no persuasion.

Marksi took up the bulk of the conversation after that, pausing their short trek to the tavern for a while.

When they finally got there, Brin went inside to find a wide open room that was extremely different from the public house in Hammon’s Bog. For one thing, the entire structure was made of stone, which to Bogland sensibilities might as well be gold. There was a roaring fire despite the fact that it was the middle of the day, maybe to ward off some of the chill that came with the building being made of stone. It was oddly cozy, though, in its own way. There were thick rugs on the floor here and there, and the ceiling was low enough to make the space feel intimate.

Some tables had games and cards laid out, and he spotted Rhun in the corner alone with a Jagosa board. Anwir and Aeron were nearby, messing with cards, and Cid and Hedrek sat together at the bar. That was a strange sight as well, because they were chatting casually and seemed to be in a fine mood. There’d been so much tension with the Lance that it was easy to forget that those two were best friends.

The four members of the Lance that Brin had chased away were at a nearby table, and they cast dark looks at Brin and Sion and the girls as they entered.

He heard Govannon mutter, “They always go for the jerks.”

They pretended not to hear, but obviously Cati did, because her face went dark and she stomped to a table as far away from them as she could before sitting in a huff.

When Brin and the other two joined her, she spoke quietly but intensely. “Back at the castle I’m invisible to them; they won’t even look me in the eye. But now that they’re visiting me in my home I’m supposed to drop everything and jump in their lap. The nerve.”

“I was wondering about that. I thought most of the servants lived in the castle,” said Brin.

“Most do. Technically I’m not actually hired on with the Order. They have better experience for my Class, though, so I help out in exchange for meals,” Cati explained. “I actually live here.”

“I was wondering about that, too,” Brin said. “What’s the point of Talra? Oh, I didn’t mean how that sounded.”

“No offense taken!” Awsta said, laughing. “I wonder that myself.”

“It’s just that you have some kind of farming Class, but the fields around here aren’t really [Farmer] fields. More like big gardens.”

“I know the answer to this! Talra is famous across Prinnash for their unique mining of Moonstone,” said Sion.

“Well, yes,” said Awsta. “That’s true, except every word of that is wrong.”

“How so?” Sion leaned forward with genuine interest.

Awsta counted with her fingers. “Talra is too small to be famous anywhere. We aren’t unique; there are three other towns nearby that do Moonstone. We don’t technically mine it, since it isn’t a mineral. It’s actually a kind of mushroom that can only grow deep underground, and most of what we do is protect it from predators. The harvesting itself is quite simple. Oh, and it’s not actually called Moonstone since it isn’t a stone. The proper name is Moonblessing.”

Sion pulled a notebook from his pocket and jotted all of that down. “Fascinating.”

Awsta was all too willing to expound on the life of a Moonblessing harvester, and only took a break when she remembered to order their food. “And that’s my uncle, so don’t even think about trying to find a sneaky way to pay.”

She asked them a little about their own lives. Sion spoke a little about the life of a [Merchant] and Brin talked about his experiences in the order. She was more fascinated by his stories about life in Hammon’s Bog. She’s seen [Knights] before, but had a hard time wrapping her head around life in a forest so thick with trees that you had to cut them back to plant fields, and where it was so rich in lumber that everyone could afford all kinds of bits and bobs made of wood, so long as they didn’t mind if it were just ordinary instead of truly Bog Standard.

When the food came, he found it was a thick and spicy stew over a bed of rice. It was delicious, and sort of reminded him of curry. He found it sort of homey, in a way. Comfort food, even though he’d never tried anything quite like it.

He found himself eating all too quickly, and looked up from an empty bowl to see that the rest of them were barely half-way through.

A loud burst of laughter interrupted him, and he looked over to see if the Lance was laughing at him. No, they’d started up some kind of gambling game, something with dice. Brych had just won, in a startling upset.

He split off a portion of his mind to watch the game and figure out the rules.

“Well, I was a bit worried you wouldn’t like it, but I see I worried for nothing,” said Awsta.

“This is delicious! What is this?”

Sion had only taken three bites. “This is called Gaelach, or Prinny, depending where you are. It’s ordinary Prinnashian stew, though the spices vary from region to region. The seasonings used here are quite nice.”

“You mean you guys eat this all the time? You’re so lucky,” said Brin.

Awsta preened a bit under his praise and said, “I’m sure the food in Frenaria is just as good.”

“Sure, if you like unseasoned swamp monster with a side of mato. Ugh. Don’t get me started on mato,” said Brin.

“I’ve tried mato!” said Cati, raising her hand. Then when the other three looked at her she froze, suddenly nervous. “I liked it though.”

Brin sighed. “Everyone does. I don’t get it.”

The two girls had to leave as soon as lunch was done, citing the need to actually finish their chores.

“Want to go bully Rhun a little? We need to give him a hard time for breaking your contract,” said Brin.

Sion watched Rhun with a bit of steel in his gaze, a predatory glint that he nearly always masked. “Next time. Let him sweat a little longer.”

Rhun, who’d been watching them out of the corner of his eyes, turned so that his back was completely towards them.

Brin turned his attention back to the gambling game the Lance was playing. Hedrek, Anwir and Aeron had all moved over to join them, and Brin’s split mind had pretty well figured out the rules. It had also noticed that Brych was cheating.

Well, two could play at that game. Or three? He bet Sion had some [Merchant] Skills that would give him an edge here, too.

“Want to help me discipline my Lance? I have in mind to give them a lesson on the dangers of gambling,” said Brin.

“Ah, my friend, what a pleasant thought. Yes, I would be all too delighted!”

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!