Bog Standard Isekai

“I suppose you want to keep that thing in my house,” said Hogg, glaring at Marksi.

They were in Hogg’s living room. The area was much more colorful and civilized than you’d expect from an old hermit in the woods. Brin sat on yellow loveseat on a lush woven carpet with colorful, swirly patterns. Hogg reclined in a red lounge chair. An end table nearby was covered with books, and he’d set a glass of lemonade on top of that. The glass was covered in frost, because of the ice in the drink, which came from an extravagantly expensive enchanted ice-maker in the kitchen.

Hogg didn’t invite people into his home very often. Brin had only ever seen him invite the Prefit in, and only once. But those who did get to see inside Hogg’s home were treated to a clear picture: Hogg had done very, very well for himself as an adventurer.

“I’ll keep him in my room. You’ll hardly see him.”

For some reason, that made Hogg glare harder. “You’re grounded.”

“You’re joking,” said Brin.

“No. Yes. A little. You went outside the walls without permission, and everyone in this town agrees that that’s against the rules. I’ll have to punish you. To fulfill my parental obligations, or something. Hm… grounding won’t work; you don’t have any friends..”

“Rude. And I thought I was a bit of a special case,” said Brin.

“Sure, but if you want to keep your little secret, then I have to play the part, don’t I? If anyone asks, tell them you were severely punished. I’m surprised you told me, to be honest.”

Marksi started to wake up with the sound of voices. He poked his head up and blinked at the world with tired eyes. Hogg’s eyes were fixed on the snake with a strange intensity.

“Also…” continued Brin. “I figured you already knew. With those invisible watchers you’ve got everywhere.”

“You know, I don’t spy on people as much as you’d think. It’s liable to blow my cover. You’d think having more information would help you stay hidden, but that’s not always the case. Sometimes the easiest way to pretend you don’t know something is to actually not know it. I try to mind my own business, for the most part.”

Did Hogg think he didn’t know about the invisible illusions that were following him around everywhere? Whatever. If Hogg wanted a wink wink, nudge nudge sort of understanding, that was fine with Brin.

“You know, I wanted to ask. These snakes set off my [Know What’s Real] Skill. I think maybe he’s using illusion magic to change colors like that. But it got me wondering. Can my Skill see through other forms of deception, or is it only illusion magic?”

“Can’t say anything about your Skill, but for the little guy here… can I?”

Brin handed him over. “His name is Marksi.”

“Cute. But don’t think just because you’re cute that I’m going to…”

Marksi, still sleepy from his nap in Brin’s arms, gave out a long squeaky yawn, complete with a happy sigh at the end.

“Did you see that, Brin? Did you hear that little squeak? Well listen, Marksi, that’s not going to work. I’m too old and have seen too many things for… for…”

Marksi curled up around Hogg’s arm, and rubbed his hand with his cheek. Hogg started petting him, and Marksi made the vibrating sound that Brin was increasingly certain was a purr.

Hogg turned his back. “Well, why don’t I get started making up a little habitat for this fella. You can go get him what he needs.”

“What does he eat?” said Brin. “I heard it’s expensive.”

“Fruit. Bugs. Neither of those are hard. [Fishers] have bug-catching Skills. Any of them will give you a jarful for free if you bring your own jar. There’s one other thing, though. Magic.”

“Magic,” repeated Brin. His instincts still told him that people must be joking when they said things like that, but unlike his previous world, magic was just another part of life here.

“You’ll need to buy enchanted items. He’ll suck the magic right out of them, turn them dull. You can get Chamylla to enchant some marbles for you; it’ll cost a pretty penny.”

“Would your magic work?”

“It would. But a [Rogue] couldn't do that, so we still need to buy stuff to explain how we’re keeping him alive in case anyone asks.”

“How much are those marbles?”

“Don’t let her charge you more than a silver and six bits per marble.”

Brin winced.

He walked around to see what Hogg was doing with his back turned. Hogg had conjured up an illusionary berry, and Marksi hopped up to take a bite out of it. The berry warped and fell apart, turning into a slow explosion of motes of light. Marksi slid from one to the next, catching as many as he could. Hogg chuckled as he watched, then glared at Brin for noticing.

“Maybe head over there now. You’ll need to get to know her at some point anyway. He’ll eat a marble every month or so, but probably best to get two or three to start. Heat and cold enchantments would be best. Maybe see what Perris thinks while you’re at it.”

The first stop was with the [Enchantress], and Brin had no idea what to expect. Standing outside her shop, he still didn’t. The sign on the door advertised “Chamylla the [Enchantress], by appointment only” and he had no idea how to go about making such an appointment.

He only stood outside for a few minutes before she opened the door. Chamylla was a tall, elegant-looking woman with tightly bound gray hair, and quick black eyes peering out from behind a long, hooked nose. She wore a black dress that covered her feet and had a neckline up to her jaw. Lace at the end of her sleeves covered her hands and she swished them around when she spoke. Something about the way she looked at him made him stand up straighter and want to brush the dust off his clothes.

“Hogg mentioned you’d be coming by. Come in, then.”

Hogg must’ve sent a mirror image, since Brin knew the old [Illusionist] was still back at the house with Marksi.

He stepped inside, curious about what an [Enchantress’] shop would look like. He expected bottles and tinctures, maybe strange runes, a glowing cauldron, and possibly low-hanging fog throughout the room.

Instead, it looked like a sitting room. An expensive sitting room, with velvet sofas and a finely carved coffee table, and a big standing harp in the corner. The harp played itself, a soft and gentle song, and now that he was looking for it, he noticed a lamp in the corner giving off a light that was much too steady. No one would waste oil in the middle of the day. The lamp, like the harp, was enchanted.

“Come in. Have a seat, anywhere you like,” she said, and disappeared down the hall.

Looking down at himself, he realized he was completely out of place around all this finery. Next time he’d put on his best clothes before coming here. He nervously walked into the sitting room and considering all the options, sat down on the loveseat, though he sat on the very edge and kept his back straight.

She returned a little later with a tray and a little folding table. She placed the table in front of him and the tray on top of it, and now he could see that it was covered with slices of bread. Some of them had cheese, others slices of minced ham, and some only smeared with mustard. Ah yes, this pre-industrial society hadn’t perfected the sandwich yet, but they were so close. All they had to do was put two of these slices together. Well, they needed to develop on their own. He wasn’t here to lightspeed their society two hundred years into the future.

Chamylla picked up one of the open sandwiches, then sat down on the high-backed club chair opposite him. “Boys your age are always hungry. Go on, eat it all. You wouldn’t want to offend me, hm?”

Brin dug in. She was obviously correct, he was always hungry. He might’ve had a delayed puberty, probably due to malnourishment, but it was all catching up to him now. Every day he seemed to be taller, stronger, and angrier than the day before. And always always hungry.

“I hope you won’t expect me to put on tea. I take no drink with food. It’s not healthy,” said Chamylla.

“No ma’am. Yes ma’am,” said Brin in between mouthfuls.

“Now, I know some feel differently, but I’m very mindful of my digestion and I’ve found…”

Chamylla went on for a bit about the various benefits of abstaining from fluids while eating. During his past life’s go-around as a teenager, he probably would have resented yet another adult feeling the need to give a lecture, but he realized she was just talking so that he wouldn’t feel self-conscious eating in front of her. When he polished off the last open sandwich–a mustard one which he definitely shouldn’t have saved for last–she asked, “So what brings you into my shop?”

Some shop. Did she not use any tools because it was all Skill-based? Or maybe she didn’t want people to see her real workspace. He didn’t know if it was polite to ask, so instead he answered her question. “I’ve got a new pet. A snake, but he sort of glows like a rainbow.”

“I know the kind. You didn’t run off into the forest, did you? No lies now.”

“I would never tell you any lies, ma’am,” said Brin.

She curled an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, she said, “Hmph. Good answer. Now, tell me, what do you know about keeping snakes?”

“I only need a couple enchanted–”

“I’ll tell you what you need. First, a habitat. A snake is not a dog. He can’t sleep in your bed. You’ll need to build him a habitat. How long is he?”

“A bit under a foot long,” said Brin.

“At least twenty gallons then, for his tank. Snakes like to burrow, so you’ll need lots of sand or loose soil. He’s amphibious, so you’ll also need a pool. Change the water every other day or he’ll suffocate. You’ll need to clean the tank, this includes changing out the sand…”

Brin was treated to the full educational seminar on raising pet snakes. She taught him how to play with him, how much exercise he needed, how to tell if he was too hot or too cold, how to tell if he was tired, how to tell if he was about to bite. The works. Only when all that was done did she finally get around to the reason he was there in the first place.

“The most important thing is temperature. I’m going to give you three marbles,” she pulled them from a sack at her belt as she spoke. She tapped them each in turn, which caused them to glow softly. “One for heat, one for cold, and one to measure temperature. This one will grow green if it’s too hot and purple if it’s too cold. It must stay at a nice light blue. He won’t be able to eat this marble like the other two, so you can use it to tell when they stop working.”

With his marbles finally in hand, Brin paid the woman and said his goodbyes. She painstakingly counted out the entire three silvers, two copper pennies and two bits, before wishing him on his way.

The next stop was Perris’ shop, and although Chamylla had turned out to be a lot nicer than he’d expected, this was the stop he was really looking forward to.

He opened the door to see Perris staring morosely out the window, but when the shopkeeper noticed Brin at the door, his face erupted with a smile.

“Brin! Perfect! That fool of an adventurer Reinal is coming back for his flange today and I’ve a plan to take him for everything he’s worth!” Perris stroked his mustache, glee like dark fire in his eyes.

“That sounds so fun! But I should warn you, I’m not here as a friend today. I’ve come to do battle,” said Brin.

“You? You, shopping from me? Ha! I’ve foreseen this day, but I’ll admit I didn’t expect it to come so soon. A sword is it? Plan to rack up some achievements before your System day? Well I can give you the sword to do it. If you can afford it, that is,” Perris punctuated his statement by plucking out a hair from his mustache and erupting into laughter.

“No, I was hoping to see your trash,” said Brin.

“My... trash?” asked Perris.

“Your garbage. I need enchantments that aren’t useful for anything. For my snake to eat,” said Brin.

“Oh, oh, oh!” Perris said, lighting up. “You know, I had one of those at your age. The times we had… If there was just one thing I could go back and do different– Well you don’t want to hear about that. To the trash!”

Perris led him across the rows of leather armor, to a big strongbox. It looked like a treasure chest that pirates might have, complete with a black iron lock.

“This box is the first one. The chest unlocks itself. Meaning–it won’t stay locked,” said Perris.

He bumped the lock with his fist, and the chest sprung open. He reached inside.

“Keeping to the theme, a belt that unclasps itself. Now this will stay clasped. Until someone says the keyword. People buy it as a prank, but I’ll warn you everyone in town knows the keyword,” said Perris.

“What is it?”

“Buy it and I’ll tell you,” said Perris.

“How many times have you sold this particular belt?” asked Brin.

“Now you’re asking the right question! At least twelve men of this town have compassionately gifted this belt to one of their friends, by discreetly switching it out with their regular belt as a prank. The victim of this misdeed will inevitably sell the device back to me, at a much reduced cost, I might add.”

“Ooh, now I have to have it,” said Brin, rubbing his hands together.

“Two silvers,” said Perris.

“Chamylla will give me her marbles for one,” said Brin.

“Ah but I can resell this belt. It’s a permanent source of income for me. If your snake eats it, the game is up.”

“And how many more people are going to fall for the belt prank? For this belt with a… very distinctive moon pattern on the front,” said Brin.

Perris frowned. “Not many.”

“I’ll give you half a silver for it. Thirty copper pennies,” said Brin.

Perris grinned. “Well done! I’ve taught you well. Or have I? Perhaps I taught you wrong on purpose, to make you more easy to take advantage of?”

“Perhaps I’m just letting you think that, until I swoop in for the kill,” said Brin, matching Perris’ predatory expression.

“Yonkers.”

“What?”

“The password is Yonkers,” said Perris.

Then he noticed it. The belt had quickly and silently unclasped itself and sprung out straight as a rod.

They went through the chest, examining items one-by-one. Some of the “junk” was still worth more than a silver, so Perris refused to sell it at Brin’s prices. Some of it was worth much less than the belt. At the end of the barter, Brin came away with a bell that wouldn’t stop ringing (covered with a sock for the noise), a copper coin that always landed on tails, a spoon that repelled liquid, and a teacup that could mend itself when it shattered (except for one missing piece at the bottom).

He was examining a silver dagger that couldn’t cut flesh, a safety dagger for whittling that he couldn’t really afford, when Perris said, “You talked to Chamylla first, yes? I suppose she gave you all sorts of advice for keeping your… new friend warm and comfortable.”

“That’s right,” said Brin.

“Then take my advice and ignore all of it.”

“What?”

“Those aren’t normal snakes,” said Perris.

“Finally someone says it!” said Brin. “Everyone keeps acting like it’s so normal; I felt like I was losing my mind.”

“Those snakes have a noble lineage. A mighty ancestry. But they’ve forgotten who they are. They’re lazy. They stay safe in their pool, never learning what they are, what they truly could be.”

“So what should I do?”

“Hurt him,” Perris whispered into his ear. Then he switched sides and whispered into the other ear. “Torture him. Make him suffer. He’s never suffered before, and he never will, not until the day of his death, when he dies fat and lazy and small. A worm, never dreaming of the heights he may have reached.”

Brin turned around to see Perris, with a devilish light in his eye. Sometimes Brin wondered if Perris was pretending to be a villain, or if he was only pretending to be pretending. The shopkeeper's voice grew steadily louder, until he was nearly shouting.

“Unless you teach him pain. Unless you make him hurt to make him grow. No one is born a fighter, Brin. No one can fight until they’ve felt terror deep in their bones, until they’ve felt worthless, until they’ve given into despair and seen the bottom of their souls. Teach him to fight. Teach him to fear and grow angry.”

“But not with you! No, never with you. You must be his light, his guardian angel. You’ll have to deceive and manipulate. Let him think you’re his protector, and guide him into every sort of adversity you can find for him.”

“It’s a little early for you to hear this, but this is good advice for fatherhood, too,” finished Perris, then started to cackle.

One of the odd facts about this guy was that he was married with two daughters, although Brin had never met them. He made a mental note to catch them together sometime, because he just couldn’t picture it. Perris claimed his younger daughter brought him lunch every day, but it was always during Brin’s work shift so he’d never seen it happen.

He shook his head. “I still can’t believe you’re a father. Everyone says they’re both really nice and well-adjusted, too.”

“Because it works,” said Perris.

Brin chuckled. “Ok, if you say so.”

“One last thing,” Perris said, catching Brin half-way out the door. “Whatever you do, don’t let him die. If you can’t keep him, return him to the pond. If he dies, the Guardian will never give you another.”