Val found me a cheap place to stay in the same district as the Engineers' Guild. The inn was a blocky, wooden building. The beds were located on the second floor, with the first serving as a bar and dining room. It wasn't anything special, but the room was cheap, and I only planned to stay for a short time. After I completed my quest and sold that timekeeper, I would be upgrading to a bigger room at a nicer inn, but a night or two in meager lodgings wasn't a problem, especially after sleeping on the ground for days.

  The sun had only just fallen, and I wasn't quite ready to sleep after finally reaching my long-awaited destination. I wanted to get a sense of civilization. I wanted to exist. So, naturally, I went to the bar.

  I ordered the biggest mug of ale they had and found a seat at a small table in the corner. I sipped the beer and cringed. It was disgusting. As Milton, I enjoyed the occasional drink of ale, but now that I had my real memories back, ale, particularly this ale, was among the worst alcoholic beverages I had ever tasted. It was hard to believe that something could taste worse than cheap American beer, but here we were.

  It didn't help that there were little chunks of goop in it. I pushed my mug away with a sigh.

  Instead of drinking, I decided to watch and listen. As time passed and night fell, the bar on the first floor of this dusty inn started to come to life. For the most part, the patrons were jovial, full of laughter, and bright-eyed. Part of me wished they all knew the truth and saw this world for the fabrication it was, just like I did, but they all looked so happy. If they knew what I knew, their happy lives would be ruined.

  In this moment, in this bar, these people knew where they stood in the world. They had lives, families, and friends. Despite the war on their doorstep and a significantly lower standard of living than they had in the real world, they were content with their lives.

  The truth would rob them of their blissful ignorance, just as it had been stolen from me. There were moments when I wished to live in ignorance once again. The truth was a heavy burden to bear sometimes. There was a heavy part of my soul that longed to share it with them. To free them of their shackles and invite them to fight back alongside me, but it was too early. I had to know my enemy better before I tried something dramatic like telling the truth.

  I watched people order drinks and talk and enjoy themselves. An older man tried to get a song going, but he was shouted down with jeers and laughter. It was all in good fun. He didn't have the voice for singing, and he knew it.

  "….must have been ten Dalari, swear my soul on it."

  The words came from a man sitting at a table to my left. He was joined by two other men and a woman. The conversation was intended to be whispered, but the man was either really bad at it or the swill they served here had done a number on him.

  "Dalari don't come out this way," one of his table companions said. "They can't stay away from the water for long. Need it to survive."

  I tried not to smile at the speaker's ignorance.

  "That's all a bunch of bull," the first speaker hissed. "I'm telling you, I saw a group of blues sneaking into a cave high up the mountains not two days ago."

  "Maybe a scouting party?" the woman asked.

  "Ain't nothin' worth scouting up in those cursed mountains. I've hunted up there for years and rarely see humans. Seeing those Dalari was a whole bucketful of strange. And get this: none of them were in uniform. They looked more like some fancy bandits to me, each with a different weapon. Two of them didn't even have a weapon on them, and one of them was carrying nothing but a long stick. Weirdest thing I ever saw."

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  He may not know what he saw, but I did. It must have been some of the Dalari who chose the adventurer's path rather than the wargames. If I were in their shoes, I'd have done the same.

  "Are you hearing this conversation?" I thought to Val.

  Her avatar popped into the seat across from me. 'I can hear every conversation in this room.'

  "What do you think of it? Adventurers or something worse?"

  'Adventurers. That much is evident from the description of their gear. Furthermore, the Dalari are still fighting a war that is two hundred miles to the west. It is unlikely they would send a contingent this far east before they have successfully taken control of Western Vedra.'

  "What happens if they beat the Kurskins? Where will the Dalari go next?"

  'I would assume they would push to the northeast and take the capital, but that's currently under heavy Kurskin occupation. If the Dalari decide that is too difficult, they could head south or further east to leverage more NPCs into their army. If the Kurskins don't do it first, that is.'

  "There are lots of Kurskins in Danver already. Why haven't they taken over?"

  'The Kurskin military presence here is minimal. The one who accosted you over your leather armor in Riverbend was probably a low-ranking bureaucrat. Technically, he isn't even with the army, although he is working alongside them. A small number of Kurskins are likely to be found in every major city, yet untouched by the Dalari. It's their way of 'claiming' it for themselves. They attempt to ingratiate themselves with the human populace and local leadership in preparation for a potential draft. It doesn't always work, but it helps.'

  "Is it working here?"

  'How should I know?'

  "Val, I don't think I'll ever know what you do or do not know, so just learn to deal with my questions."

  'I think it's time for your nap,' Val said like I was a child.

  "Shut up, V…"

  My thought was interrupted by the shattering of a bottle. I turned to see a commotion near the entrance, where a man was stomping toward the bar. He was burly with a thick beard. He wore brown breeches and a tight cotton shirt with the sleeves cut off, showing off his considerably large biceps.

  As he passed another table, he picked up a random bottle and slammed it to the ground. When he passed the next table, he did it again.

  He pointed at the barkeep. "Where's your boss?"

  The barkeep held up his hands and stammered, "I, I, uh…, I haven't seen him today."

  The burly man barked a laugh. "The coward must have run for the hills then." His smile was wide and yellow and full of menace. "If he ain't gonna' pay me back, I'll have to teach him a lesson." He ground his beefy fists together and glared at the barkeep. "I'll start with beating his bartender to a pulp."

  He stalked forward, a snarl on his dirty face.

  'Are you just going to let this happen, Player?' Val said, head tilted at me.

  "What am I supposed to do?"

  'You are supposed to gain experience. Stopping this man from beating up a helpless bartender is a start.'

  I groaned, not wanting to involve myself but knowing it was the right thing to do, although not for the reason Val stated.

  The room was quiet as the man moved toward the bar. I stood, pushing my chair back, causing it to scrape loudly along the wood floor. I cleared my throat.

  The big man froze in place and slowly turned his hairy face to me. "I'm sorry," he said, head cocked. "Did you say something?"

  "No," I said boldly. "But now that I have your attention, I do have something to say." I paused, waiting to see how he would react.

  He turned his wide body to face me and crossed his arms, defiantly casual.

  I shrugged nonchalantly. "I just think it's rude of you to enter a fine establishment like this in your current state." I sniffed the air. "You should consider showering first. It's proper manners."

  The most hateful smile I had ever seen stretched across his face. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy killing you."

  "No one is killing anyone." The words were low and raspy and decidedly nonhuman.

  A Kurskin had entered the bar.