The sky was blue with little clouds in sight, the morning sun warming up my body as Rona and I exited the house and entered the backyard. The smell of grass faintly brushed my nostrils, and a rather refreshing sense of ease calmed my body. It was a peaceful morning—silent, yes, but not eerie. It was comfortably soundless, except for the sound of a sword swiping the air in large arcs.
"Daddy!" Rona rushed up to her father, intending to hug him, but ended in an awkward pose a good distance away as the latter's sword was swishing around dangerously. James took notice of his daughter's presence and paused his sword training. "Rona! Swords are dangerous, you know. Don't just come running at me when I'm slashing it around," he half-said, half-scolded as Rona jumped into his arms.
"I know they're dangerous! Ernie and I just wanted to come see you practise," Rona said.
"Ernie?" James raised an eyebrow, looking behind his daughter and finally spotting me, standing a few feet away. I waved happily at him as I approached. James smiled, letting go of his daughter and waved back. "Now, what are you two doing out here for?" He asked.
"Mrs. Heartwood said to look for you if I wanted to cheer up..." I trailed off. James raised an eyebrow again, but just like what Rona had done when her mother suddenly came rushing into my room just now, he nodded in understanding, knowing full well what had happened in literally one single sentence. This family is too sharp, I thought.
"I see. So you had the pleasure of receiving Arianna's goodwill. Did it go well?" James asked, picking up his steel sword.
"Oh, yes. It was great. I feel much lighter now," I said, grinning with glee.
James nodded, walking to the porch where the things he needed while training laid: a towel, a bottle of water, a first-aid kit (in case he hurt himself), and a scabbard that fits the sword James is holding. Sure enough, he carefully sheathed the blade into the scabbard, plopping it down on the table before taking a gulp out of his water bottle.
"So, you wanted to lighten up your mood, yes?" James asked as he padded his sweaty face with his indigo towel.
"Uh-huh," I nodded. "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to ask you, though," I added, cocking my head to the side slightly. James shook his head, as if to say I was foolish for wondering about such things.
He said, "I think I know just the thing to cheer you up. You two wait here while I get something from the house." He entered the house through the back door and with a left turn into the storage room, he was gone from our sights. Rona and I waited below the shade provided by the porch like good dogs, basking in the warm heat of the late morning sun. James didn't take long—it was less than three minutes that he came back, in fact.
"I'm back!" He exclaimed, his hand full of things he brought from the storage room. It was a bit overwhelming for his thin build, but he had enough strength to carry it all, so I suppose it's all good. In his hand clutched another scabbard but with a wooden hilt poking out, along with a rather large mannequin-shaped object below, presumably a fighting dummy by the looks of its scarred exterior.
"What's that?" Rona asked, especially intrigued by the dummy that was as big as her father's body. I'm surprised that it even fit through the storage door, given it was tinier compared to the other doors in our house.
"This" —James breathed as he plopped down the dummy on the grass, looking as if a ton of weight had just been lifted from his body— "is a training dummy." (As if it wasn't obvious enough.)
"Ooh," cried Rona, as she went around the dummy and observed its battered-up state. It was tall—much taller than a shorter-than-average twelve year-old like me, standing at around James's height. It didn't have limbs; only a torso and its head. In the middle of its body, an alternating red-and-white colored target was painted on, acting as an aiming guide for sword training.
The target made the dummy have multiple uses: not just for sword fighting, but a shooting dummy as well. The target would be a great help for adjusting your aim when shooting an arrow.
"...And what is this for?" I asked, looking at the dummy, confused as to how this might cheer me up.
"Here," James said, throwing me the scabbard with the wooden hilt. I stumbled as I caught the sheathe clumsily—it was heavier than I thought—and observed the patterns etched onto the dark oak. Eloquent swirls with perfect curvatures filled every nook and cranny of the exterior, deeply carved into the hard, wooden surface. It felt surreal—holding such an intricate piece of work, knowing that inside it holds a potentially harmful object. I couldn't help but admire the craftsmanship of just the outward appearance of the scabbard, not even touching the hilt of the sword yet.
"Take the sword out," James suggested, noticing I was taking a bit of time marvelling at the woodwork. I nodded and took hold of the thick hilt, presumably made from wood and leather. It was a big large for my small hands, but I could still hold onto it firmly. It was a sensational feeling, taking grasp of the handle of a sword and pulling it out of its sheathe. Although it didn't make the 'schwing' sound that a normal metal sword would make when being unsheathed, it still held its charm.
The blade itself was primarily made out of wood, its sharp edge only on one side. The shape wasn't like any old sword—it curved upwards, kind of similar to that of a pirate's. It was a scimitar. Dull as a wooden sword it may be, the edge still holds a considerable amount of danger if driven into any object—or any body for that matter—with enough firepower. One measly sweep could cause a hell of a bruise already.
I held it with both my hands in awe, my eyes glittering full of excitement as I imagined the intense movements I could do with this weapon in my grasp. The sword looked oversized when I held it, and it was rather heavy when I first took it by the hilt with one hand, but it soon grew on me. I became familiar with the sword as I did a few rough slashes, not particularly aiming at anything. Rona and her father were standing a considerable amount of distant away now, the former almost quivering as she giddily jumped up and down, waiting for me to do some real action.
James sighed, half-regretting that he let Rona witness the blade in my hands, another half bemused by her hyperactive reaction. He approached me once more and motioned to pause my trial with (presumably) his scimitar. I halted my movements, slightly turning red, seeing as how James looked quite astounded by my rookie sword swings.
"That's quite fun, isn't it?" He asked, putting his hands on his hips. I nodded enthusiastically, more than agreeing by what he had to say about swordplay. It was rather stimulating, even though I only nonchalantly waved the blade around, the thought of dancing with a sharp blade in hand as I cut through the monsters in my wake. Of course, none of that was happening right now—only in my mind.
"What should I do with this sword?" I asked, nonplussed as to why James all but willingly hand this scimitar to me, though I had my speculations, seeing that a training dummy is placed just a few paces in front of me. Through some logical reasoning, I would assume he is asking me to practise using a sword on that dummy, and sure enough, his next words would confirm my suspicions:
"Simple. I want you to show me your skills with a sword. Just do a couple of slashes on that dummy there" —he pointed at the fighting dummy— "and show me what you got. Don't hesitate to go all out if you want to," he added. I looked at him, then at the dummy, nodding to myself as I understood the agenda.
Focusing on the target right at the centre of the dummy's torso, my hands gripped harder on the hilt (left hand above the right) of the scimitar held in front of me, then taking one last breath to mentally prepare myself. I was ready.
With a despicably unnecessary battle howl, I charged at the dummy, the blade's weight pushing me further forward, and sliced with all my might. A softened thump sounded as the edge of my sword made impact with the dummy's leather-covered straw body. I stumbled back a bit due to the impulsive recoil of my attack, a shiver retaliating throughout my whole body as I experienced the sensation of hitting something a tad bit too hard. Talk about anticlimactic.
I recovered and took another swing at the dummy, another thump echoing out as the impact registered. Then, I slashed again, and again, and again. It was fun—I've never experienced something like this before. Even if it's just me wildly pounding on a poor training dummy with a wooden sword like a kid hitting a tree with a random stick they found on the ground.
The attacks continued on for another ten or dozen or so times, then finally I collapsed from the sheer weight of the sword held in my now-floppy and tired hands. Sweat was forming on my body as I took ragged breathes, my hands and knees on the grass supporting my body up, the former slightly wobbling. The scimitar laid to the right of me looking as pristine as it had been before I took those swings at the dummy.
"Feeling good now?" James asked, noticing that I'm all on my hands and knees, panting like I've just won a marathon.
"On cloud nine," I said, "literally." Despite my hectic breathing, the grin on my face was unfaltering. I felt alive.
"Good. Looks like my job here is done. For a newbie like you, your sword skills aren't half bad. Though, it looks like you're struggling to hold onto that enormous thing," James chuckled. Indeed, the scimitar in my hands was more than what my small body could handle. And it's already taken my breath away even though I swung it around in both hands, let alone one. I can't begin imagine how heavy an actual steel scimitar would weigh.
I laughed sheepishly at his compliment, scratching the back of my neck with my right hand. By now, I was sitting on the grass with my breath under control again. "Mr. Heartwood, as much as I like this scimitar, it just doesn't 'click' for me, you know what I mean? Like, if I was in an actual battle, I think I'd be uncomfortable using a sword like that, even if it was tailored to my size," I said.
James nodded, his thumb and index finger under his chin like a detective. "I can see why. Scimitars are usually suitable for more big, burly men, or even masculine women, and you certainly aren't one," he joked. "Say, you did say you enjoyed that sword training, right?" He added.
"Yeah, it was great. The adrenaline rush and everything made me feel so alive," I exaggerated. Still, my grin was as wide as ever, my white teeth showing through as if I was showing off for a toothpaste commercial.
"I wouldn't be surprised if you wanted to pursue the path of an adventurer. I'd say you'd fit right in, with that curious mind of yours and all. What do you think?" James asked.
I pondered on the question for quite a bit. Being an adventurer... that has crossed my mind before—in fact, on multiple occasions��but I never thought about it as a serious profession. The career of an adventurer is almost exclusive to a world such as this, since most of the land on Earth has pretty much been discovered and mapped out already. Elhera, however, holds many secrets yet unknown to me. It definitely wouldn't hurt to try.
"I'm not so sure," I shrugged. "It sounds intriguing, but I don't exactly thing I'm up for such a thing."
James tilted his head, bemused that I actually thought so hard about a career path that I wouldn't yet be able to pursue. At least, not in my wimpy state. "You know, even if you don't want to be an explorer, there's still a lot of merit in learning self-defense. You'll find it to be very helpful in this world full of monsters."
"I know..." I couldn't put my finger on it, but there's a sort of risk that I'd rather not run in the option of becoming an explorer for Elhera... it's weird—if I went back in time and told myself that I'd be transported into some sort of whimsical, fantasy world, the past me would no doubt choose the path of adventuring the big, wide world. Though, now, things have slightly changed. I wouldn't have known that such vile creatures exist in this world, ones that could puncture holes straight through a human's body, use magic, or any other property that makes them a hundred times more frightening than a great white shark from Earth.
"Maybe your passions aren't set in stone yet. But I think I have just the thing to spark your interests," James smirked.
I cocked my head to the side after hearing his schemes, not understanding what he just said to me. My confusion, however, was distracted by Rona charging in and almost ramming her father as she hugged his thighs—the highest part her main body can reach, excluding her head and hands.
"Daddy! I want to be an adventurer, too!" She cried, shaking her dear daddy's legs. "I want to explore the world with daddy and Ernie!"
James smiled meekly, wrapping his hands below her armpits and lifting her up to his eye level. "Rona, my dear," he said, in a slightly more serious tone, "you're not old enough to be one yet. Besides, being an adventurer is dangerous. I don't want you running around Elhera and risking your life exploring the world."
Rona pouted, albeit looking so cute it felt intentional. "But daddy! An adventurer has such a fun life! I want to be able to explore the world as well!" She exclaimed, her feet wildly swaying around as she protested her father's best interests.
"Now, now, Rona. There's always a time and place for sulking, but now isn't the time. I have some business to do with Ernie."
Me? I thought, flummoxed by what James had said. I get that he said he had something in mind to 'spark my interests in being an explorer,' but I wanted to believe otherwise.
"Um, Mr. Heartwood, what is this... business, that you said you have with me? Surely I didn't make an appointment with you or anything..." I added sarcastically. James looked at me with amusement in his eyes, then gently placing Rona down on the ground again.
"That, young boy, you will see soon enough. However, before this business is carried out, there is something else that you need to do beforehand. Get prepared, as we will be going to town!" cried James. I was utterly bewildered, wondering what other business I had to do, and all the more I had to prepare to leave? What is this sudden turn of events?
"I want to come!" Rona exclaimed, waving her hands around like a bird flapping its wings.
James shook his head, saying, "I'm terribly sorry, darling, but this is something only Ernie and I can do. As other-worlders, just adding to that. Don't worry, though—we'll all be going out to town later on today for a shopping trip. How does that sound?" James negotiated.
"...Fine," Rona replied sulkily, after a bit of thinking. "Promise me you'll buy me five new books?"
James smiled, as if the request wasn't an absurd deal. "Promise," he said, holding his pinkie out. Rona took it with her pinkie, making a pinkie promise between the father and daughter duo. As heart-warming as this situation is, I have questions that are needed to be answered, and the sooner the better.
"Hey! Where are we going?" I asked, cutting the formation of their little oath with one another.
"You'll see," James said, his smirk ever so slightly hinted with a dash of sly.
***
The town looked as lively and menacing as ever, its cheery atmosphere almost omnipotent throughout the day. James and I were walking abreast by the sidewalk, a bit away from the loud crowd gathered around the stalls selling numerous items and street performances involving actual magic. It was hard not to be attracted by them—I wanted to stay and watch the phenomenal things they can pull off using this power I never once thought existed.
We continued to walk under the late morning sun, almost reaching its zenith at noon by now. The atmosphere of the town seems to have toned down in this business-looking district, most of the pedestrians now looking more 'professional,' if that's how I described them. Don't get me wrong, there were still casual cafés and street stalls dotted around, but the airiness of everything pales in comparison to the residential squares that we just walked out of.
James stopped at the corner of the sidewalk, where it took a sharp turn to the right. I stopped as well, overshooting the position where the golden-haired father-figure of mine halted. Looking at the building to my right, a large sign above the double wooden doors on the building's sliced-off looking corner, presumably the entrance to the building, read:
ASSOCIATION OF OTHER-WORLDERS
The building itself was in pristine condition: made out of marble-like material for its walls, the base of the building rimmed with finely-cut cobblestone. A small roof jutted out from the entrance, in case of the need for shielding anyone who enters or exits the building from the rain outside. The building was four stories tall, with arched windows that had six panes each dotted uniformly about each floor. Moreover, the roof was flat, me only able to see the outer rim of white quartz lining the upper perimeter of the exterior.
We entered the building like nobody else's business, my jaw dropping even further than I previously thought was possible as I scanned the entrance hall. Despite the building's rather mediocre size viewed from the outside, there was a formidable amount of space for its interior. Most of the walls were coated in a dark shade of violet-pink, with a wooden decorative structure lining the bottom half of the walls not unlike the cobblestone lining outside. In the middle section of the room, farthest from the entrance, stood a wooden counter which acted as an information table as well.
The room was filled with other peculiar things as well: glass cabinets containing some rather modern-looking objects which I thought they brought here from Earth, workers dashing in and out of the back door with piles of paperwork heaved around, portraits of important people both from this world and from Earth as well, among many more weird but strangely homely things. Chandeliers hung from the deceptively high ceiling, shining in all its glamour as they ominously swayed above our heads.
Aside from James and I, there were other people here as well, mostly in generic adventurer's clothing, but I did spot a couple of people wearing outfits that were definitely not from this world (me included). I assume most if not all of these people were originally from Earth, seeing as I could recognize a few of their racial features. It was a mix of different races, all from different parts of Earth.
James approached the desk in the middle of the room, me following closely behind. "Excuse me?" He called, dinging on the bell that called for the desk worker as he did so. Not even a short while after, a stern-looking middle-aged man came to our service. He wore a typical office suit similar to those we wear back on Earth, his very short hair a rather interesting shade of silvery white. His height was similar to James, though his body looked much more beefy and battle-worn. Still, he looked rather curt in that suit of his. His face was wrinkled, a fine white beard encircling his mouth and the perimeter of his lower chin.
The moment he spotted James, his face turned from a quite intimidating one to a nostalgic, friendly look, as if he was meeting an old friend again after a long time away from each other. "Ho! If it isn't James!" He boomed, spreading his arms wide as he leaned over the counter to hug James. James all but reluctantly returned the hug, even though they were in an awkward position hugging over a counter.
Many eyes looked at us, particularly me, and I shrunk myself to avoid the gazes. Looking back at the counter worker again, James is now explaining his business here. "Mortimer," James addressed his name, "I have a person I would like to register as an other-worlder here." He gestured to me, and I smiled awkwardly at the white-haired man named Mortimer.
The muscular worker observed me for a good few seconds, then said, "A fine young boy you got there, James. He a son of yours?" He elbowed James. James, in turn, smirked.
"Of course not. If he were, then he wouldn't be considered an other-worlder, would he?"
"Of course, of course," Mortimer nodded. "Then what is your affiliation with this kid?"
"Oh, just a guardian. The first thing he did after coming to Elhera was walking up to my stall and asking if I understood what he was saying," James said, laughing. Mortimer laughed as well, apparently finding my question amusing.
Speaking of understanding each other, I realized that Mortimer was also communicating in English. I'd say I was surprised to find so much people speaking English in this world, but that can't really be said, since this place is the place where people from Earth gather, and the international language on Earth is English, so it wouldn't be that much of a rare find. However, that made me want to ask a question that was on my mind ever since noticing that:
"Um, sir? You're speaking English as well, right? Does that mean you're also from Earth?" I asked, my voice slightly shaking under the intense stare of the big guy. He looked at me, perplexed as to why I would ask such a thing, but then burst out laughing yet again. Is this man sane?!
"T-There it is again!" He boomed, struggling to speak as he laughed. "T-Those weird q-questions h-he asks to n-new people he m-meets! A-ha-ha!" His laugh was low, lower than even James's voice, but that was a given. "G-Give me a second... hoo... this boy is something else..."
I raised an eyebrow and backed away a bit, now more confused as ever. Exactly what was so amusing? If I were this funny, I would be having my own comedy show by now... I looked over at James, but he only shrugged at me.
"Alright, your question," the man continued, after around thirty seconds of laughing, "Yes, I'm speaking English, but no, I'm not from Earth. In fact, my parents are other-worlders like you lot, so I suppose I have a bit of knowledge on it than most locals here. Oh, you can call me Mr. Ericsson, by the way," he added, wiping the tears off his eyes.
"Okay, Mr. Ericsson. I'm Ernie Neswitt," I introduced myself back in turn, holding out my right hand for him to shake. Mortimer grabbed it with his huge hands, grasping it with a formidable strength but not to the point of cracking my bones, and shook it. Though, he didn't let go for quite a while afterwards.
"Wait a minute... You're Ernie Neswitt, you say?" Mortimer asked, his eyes wide.
"Yeah...? What about it?" I asked, tilting my head to the side. The man smiled, then letting go of my hand.
"Figured. You look just like her, that Eyvonne girl. Been climbing up the ranks of best adventurers ever since she came here," he said. This time, my eyes widened, even wider than Mortimer had when he heard my name.
Eyvonne? I thought, As in Eyvonne Neswitt, that sister of mine that I loathe so much? And what did he say she was? An... adventurer?
"No way... really? My sister is here as well?" I was aghast, realizing the existence that has made my life hell for the past twelve years is here, in Elhera, the place I came to thinking I could escape from my worst nightmares... Looks like I was wrong, again.
"If she ain't Eyvonne Neswitt then I can't think she'd be anyone else but your sister, Ernie. Haven't you seen her coming to this world before?" Mortimer asked.
"Well, yes, in fact I saw every second of her going through that portal, but... I didn't think she would be here as well, in Elhera..."
"Boy, I'm no expert on this 'Gate' thing that summons you Earthlings here, but I'm quite sure there's only one link from your world to ours," he said, almost whispering to me as he leaned closer.
I was dumbstruck. How could I be so stupid? Of course she'd be here... My sister, Eyvonne Neswitt... and of course, she's wrecking the game even in this world... how can I possibly escape her now? This is unfair... This isn't how it was supposed to go...!
"C-Can you tell me...? What she's done here?" Perhaps he noticed how shocked I was, but Mortimer refused to answer my question. It was probably for the better, though.
"Sorry, boy, but that I will let you find out yourself. You're here to register yourself as an other-worlder, right? Then let's get on with that."
The registration process went quickly: I had to place my hand onto a shining blue crystal ball, which then emitted some sort of twinkly light that looked rather similar to the one I saw the night when the Gate to this world opened up in my room
It was beautifully twinkling, turning iridescent colors before settling on a turquoise-like blueish-green shine. It circled around me, the mass of teal twinkles burned an elegant display of a light show before launching itself into my chest, where it dissipated. I felt a warm feeling envelop my whole body, its epicentre coming from the point where the light had struck me.
Mr. Ericsson then gave me a small stone with an even tinier gem encrusted in the middle, glowing slightly as I held it in my hands. "This is an exclusive gift for other-worlders who register at the Association," he explained. "It's a translation stone—as the name suggests, it translates any spoken language to the language you are most fluent with, in this case English, and translates whatever you said into the language it just switched from as well.
"They work in a certain radius around you—I'd say around five feet— and you don't need to do anything to activate it. Just have it around you and you can understand every language that is recorded in Elhera today. Keep it safe now, those things aren't the easiest to come by."
After a few pieces of long paperwork, the process was complete. But I wasn't thinking about that. No. It was my sister. Especially her occupation... from what Mr. Ericsson said, she is one of the best adventurers in Elhera. Well then, I may have just made up my mind.
I'm going to become an adventurer.
I'm going to become an adventurer, and I'm doing that so I can defeat my sister. There is no other path I'm destined to take. This is it. In time, I will have to face her, and when that time comes, I'll show her—I'll show her that I'm better, that I'm not a useless little brother. When that time comes, I won't be chasing after her shadow anymore, oh no.
I'll tell her everything, from how she ruined my life, how she pulled everyone away from me, how she took away my happiness... I'll do that, I definitely will. I can just imagine her face—that bastard that always held her chin high like a queen strutting above her peasants—all broken to pieces, when she realizes that she isn't the best, that she has made the biggest mistake of her life by taking everything away from her very own little brother's life.
I've found my motivation. I've found my final goal. Now, all I need to do is to put in the effort. To trial and error. To fail and learn from my mistakes, so that every time I get up and try again, I'll be better than what I previously was. When I've gained enough experience, through sheer effort and will, and not just talent, I'll show it to her face. Then we'll see who gets the last laugh.