Accidental Heroics: A Guide to Surviving Fantasy Land

Chapter 9

About an hour into our conversation, the drunk cultist suddenly remembered that we hadn't had a formal introduction yet.

"I'm Ghis, by the way," he said, extending his hand.

I shook it and replied. "Sam. I'm not from around here."

He chuckled, "Oh, I know. You're an otherworlder and the Chosen One, apparently. That's why I came after you in the first place. The Cult wanted you dead."

"Why did you join those weirdoes in the first place?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He leaned back, arms crossed. "A buddy from back home said it was great. Good pay, free meals, and a retirement plan—assuming we actually ended the world."

I snorted. "How the hell do you retire when the world's gone?"

Ghis sat up in thought, his smile fading. Apparently, the thought had never crossed his mind. Ghis wasn't exactly sharp, but that didn't bother me. Smart people had a tendency to make life more complicated, and I'd had enough of that to last a lifetime.

"Well, it's not like I'm in it anymore," Ghis said. He took another drink. "And honestly, the more I think about it, the more I realize it's for the better. Cults aren't great for work-life balance. I haven't been able to go home for a few years now."

I chuckled, but the humor quickly faded as I realized something. "Wait, you said the Cult wanted me dead. They know who I am?"

Ghis nodded gravely. "Oh, absolutely. It seems like you took down someone pretty high up in the organization, and they're on high alert because of it."

I recalled the dude I had set aflame with his own fireball. If that was who the cult considered high-ranking then they didn't sound all that dangerous to me.

"If they wanted me so bad, why did they send you?" I asked, and then when it occurred to me how that sounded, I added, "No offense."

"None taken. They were planning a manhunt, but the guy who usually signs the paperwork for that stuff is on vacation."

I blinked. "Are you serious?"

"Completely," Ghis nodded. "The Cult takes paperwork very seriously. I even had to go through a thorough background check before I could join." He took another swig, entirely unbothered.

"I overheard some higher-ups talking about you. Figured I'd get a head start and claim the bounty for myself—big rewards, promotions, maybe a cool job title."

"Promotions?"

"Chief Sadist," he said with a straight face. It seemed that both the Order and the Cult were very bad at coming up with job titles.

Ghis took another drink, then looked up as if a thought had occurred to him. "Hey, I'm heading out of Spuria myself. If you want, we can head out together. Get you away from here before the manhunt starts."

It was solid advice and smarter thinking than I had come to expect from him. "Where are you headed?"

"Baran. It's my hometown. Was planning to leave tomorrow. You can tag along if you want, but, uh… I'm broke."

I dug into my pocket and pulled out the last gold coin I had. "Will this do?"

Ghis' eyes widened. "Are you kidding me? That's more than enough. We could travel in style, with a caravan, no less. No walking."

I froze. "Wait. Are you telling me I got scammed?"

The realization hit me like a punch. Five bottles for a gold coin? The innkeeper had played me. Ghis grinned as I stormed off to the counter.

The innkeeper didn't even try to deny it. After some grumbling and disingenuous apologies, he handed me a handful of silver coins. I could tell I was still being shorted, but I was too tired to argue further.

"Two rooms," I said. "For me and my… companion."

Ghis' face lit up as he raised a bottle in salute, splashing dark liquid everywhere. He mumbled something, then dozed off, his snores rattling the inn.

****

The following day, drawn out of my room by the smell of freshly baked bread, I found Ghis at the hearth, handing out pastries to patrons.

The sight was surreal. A former cultist had turned into an amateur baker overnight and was laughing and chatting as if this was exactly where he belonged.

"He works pretty fast on following his dreams. I'll give him that," I muttered to myself.

The patrons, mostly hardened criminals, were grinning—except for that one guy with a missing ear.

I grabbed a pie myself and took a bite. It was incredible. Flaky crust, sweet filling, the works. "You made this?"

Ghis shrugged. "I'm a bit out of practice, but it's not bad, right?"

"Not bad? This is the best thing I've eaten since I got here."

"Glad you approve," he said. "Anyway, I got up early in the morning and managed to find us a caravan. It leaves in a few hours. There's even a VIP traveling with them—a merchant's daughter. She'll have her own guards, too, so it'll be pretty safe."

I chewed another mouthful of pie and contemplated. A merchant's daughter? That sounded like we were heading towards plot development.

"That sounds like trouble," I said. "Maybe we should wait for another caravan."

Ghis shook his head and slid a piece of paper across the table.

"I'm afraid we don't really have the option of waiting around for long."

It was a poster with the same dragon sigil I had seen around town the day before. Underneath it was a very well-drawn sketch.

The sketch showed a plain, youthful face with messy black hair. I hadn't seen my reflection in so long that it took me a moment to recognize myself.

"Wanted: Alive," it read beneath the sketch.

"Fine," I grumbled. "Let's go."

****

We were outside the city walls an hour later. Ghis haggled with the caravan leader, a fat man with a thick mustache. Both of them were starting to shout at each other, but I could tell neither meant any disrespect. This appeared to be the usual way of haggling around here.

I loitered nearby, trying to keep a low profile. I wore Ghis' cloak with the hood over my head and observed the caravan.

The caravan bustled with a chaotic mix of wagons, crates, and weary travelers. The air carried the tang of dust and sweat, mingled with the faint sweetness of dried fruit spilling from a torn sack.

Traders adjusted their ledgers, ticking off inventory while their guards kept a watchful gaze over the proceedings. A group of musicians had claimed a corner of the caravan, tuning their instruments as if to offer a small reprieve from the clamor.

Just then, a scrawny laborer stumbled into one of the musicians and started apologizing. He seemed pretty familiar, but I couldn't find him.

"So, what did you do to get declared a criminal?" Ghis asked once he was done negotiating.

"I saved the city. Didn't know that was illegal."

He laughed, assuming I was joking. I wasn't sure if I was myself.

Saving the city from the goblins was the only thing I could think of. I hadn't done anything else of note in the city. Except destroy that one man's cabbage cart. But I was sure now that the two golden coins I had given him were more than enough compensation for his troubles.

Maybe the soldiers had put out that poster to find me so they could offer me a reward. Maybe that was how things worked in this world. I doubted it. Even if it was a reward, I didn't want any part of it.

Lyra had mentioned that my destiny would follow me no matter where I went, and I didn't want to prove her right. I wanted to avoid being a hero for as long as I could.

It suddenly struck me where I had seen the scrawny laborer before. He was the thief from the day before. The one who had stolen my pouch and landed me a spot at the city walls as the goblins had charged.

I wanted to march over and give him a piece of my mind—it was his fault I was in this mess. But I forced myself to stay calm. Starting a fight could delay the caravan or even get us kicked off.

There would be plenty of time to deal with him later, I told myself.

As the caravan's laborers finished loading the cargo, a fancy, ornate carriage arrived, escorted by half a dozen mounted guards. The caravan leader hurried over, bowing deeply as a woman's voice called out from inside.

"Hurry up trader. We must get going. Every second you delay causes me unfathomable financial loss."

Her tone was pretty haughty, but the caravan leader bowed even deeper and offered his apologies. It was a wild contrast with how he had talked to Ghis a short while ago. With a nod from the guard, he left and started shouting at his laborers to hurry up.

Ghis nudged me.

"That's the merchant's daughter," he whispered. "Her dad's one of the richest men in the Duchy. Bought himself a noble title, even."

"Fascinating," I muttered, looking around for the thief, worried he might have slipped away in the confusion.

He was still there, seated alongside one of the wagon drivers at the front of the caravan.

Most of the other men started walking alongside the caravan, but Ghis led me to a passenger wagon where the women, children and the elderly were sitting. Like he'd mentioned, the two of us would get to ride our way to our destination because of how much we'd paid.

Although it was cramped and dull, at least we weren't walking.

"What's Baran like?" I asked, breaking the monotony.

"Big city," Ghis said. "Capital of the Duchy of Baramund. My dad was a soldier for the duke. You've probably seen his sigil around—the white dragon."

I nodded. It was everywhere in Spuria, including on my wanted poster. "What's the Duke like?"

"He's a great guy. I had never met him personally, but my dad used to praise him all the time. He's known throughout the Kingdom as one of the kindest dukes," Ghis said. "Fair, kind, all that."

An old man who had apparently been eavesdropping on our conversation nearby chuckled. He was missing a leg and carried an air of cynicism.

"That's old news. The duke's changed. High taxes, cruelty… people are suffering. Even a veteran like myself has lost faith in him."

He interjected himself into our conversation without any shame. It occurred to me that old people in this world were just as entitled as the ones in mine.

"You served under him?" Ghis asked.

"Under his father," the man corrected. "Now that was a great man. Never lost a battle that one. And oh, how many battles we fought," he said as he stared off into the sky, looking forlorn.

"Is that how you lost your leg?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "Nah, that was a card game."

I decided not to push further and contemplated my current situation.

I was on my way to a major city ruled by a duke who had once been a good man but had mysteriously changed. In anime, situations like this usually meant the main character would get dragged into trouble—and I wanted no part in more grand conspiracies. I resolved to spend as little time in Baran as possible.

As we rattled along, one of the merchant's guards approached on his horse and started slowly riding alongside the wagon. He scrutinized the passengers and fixed his gaze on me.

"Hood off," he demanded. "The safety of My Lady's comes first."

I was pretty annoyed by his assumption of authority. On top of that, I was worried I would get recognized from the poster, and then it would all be over. Ghis and I would have to make a run for it.

But I also knew that if I refused to take off my hood, the guard would find me suspicious, and that would create a whole host of new problems.

I saw Ghis nod at me from the corner of my eye and reluctantly gave in taking the hood off.

The guard took one look at my face and burst into laughter before walking away. Confused, I turned to Ghis.

"Forgot to mention," Ghis said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "I cast a spell on the cloak to hide your real face."

"That doesn't explain why he laughed."

"Well, I'm not very good at it," he admitted. "Unfortunately, the only faces I can manage to make are very ugly ones."

I sighed. "Of course they are."

The wagon creaked steadily along, the scenery shifting from dense forests to rolling hills. Dust clung to the air, and the monotony only deepened my exhaustion. I was glad to be getting away from the forest, the Order, and the Cult. I knew they would somehow manage to find me, but for now, they were getting further away. For now, that was something worth enjoying.