Bog Standard Isekai

Davi’s mother, Bruna, greeted them with a complete match of Davi’s tireless energy. She never stopped moving, always doting on them, putting things in order, tidying and straightening. He would have picked her out of a police line-up as Davi’s mother, despite how she didn’t look much like him. She was a tall, thin woman, with her hair in a tight gray bun. “Oh, Zilly, how wonderful to see you, too! Have a seat, no, don’t worry about a thing, breakfast is already done. And Brin! We haven’t formally met but Davi’s told me a bit about you.”

She seated them at an impressive dining table, which was so far completely clear. Brin had a certain mental image of a farmer family’s dining room, but this was something else entirely. The long dining table was a work of art. The smooth surface was made of different shades of wood all stuck together perfectly in geometric shapes, while the legs were stylized into feathered lions. Griffons, maybe? Somehow it all worked together in a very elegant way. The rest of the dining room matched the table, although the black iron standing lamps and the hardwood china cabinet gave it a distinctly Bavarian feel. Davi might not have Brin’s ridiculous allowance, but obviously his family was far from poor.

Bruna came back with three plates of eggs, steak, and mashed mato for the three of them. It looked absolutely delectable, and they’d gone a little harder than usual on their workout that morning, so Brin was famished. Bruna waved them to start, and he tucked in without a second though.

“How do you like your yogurt, Brin? Sweet or savory?” asked Bruna.

At his surprised expression, Davi said, “Mallowsweet or pork?”

“M-mallow, please,” said Brin.

Davi shrugged. “Your loss.”

Bruna came back to the room with three glasses of yogurt. Thicker than milk, but he could see it was still thin enough to drink rather than eat with a spoon. Yogurt! Of course they would have that here. He should’ve thought of that. Hogg paid extra to have someone deliver milk all the way out to his house every morning, so Brin had never had to visit a dairy.

He took a sip, and yeah, it was marshmallow-flavored. Surprising choice, but honestly pretty awesome. At least it wasn’t mato-flavored. Zilly and Davi had both gotten pork, apparently Bruna already knew their preference.

“Have you ever tried pork flavor? Come on, take a sip,” said Davi.

“Uh… I was raised better than to turn my nose up at any kind of food…” Brin started. He gave Bruna a nervous glance, but she smiled encouragingly so he kept going. “... but that sounds absolutely terrible, Davi. Why subject yourself to that? You should treasure yourself more.”

Zilly burst out laughing so suddenly she sprayed yogurt on the table. Bruna seemed amused rather than offended and tossed her a rag to clean it up.

Bruna called the rest of her family down, and served them breakfast as they took their places at the table. Davi’s father, Alvir, was stocky like Davi but a half foot shorter than his wife. Apparently Davi was a middle child, with two older sisters and two younger brothers.

The two sisters were sixteen and eighteen. Both of them had Callings, which told him that parents didn’t kick out their kids the second they got their Classes. He had assumed as much, but it was nice to have a confirmation.

The family was boisterous and happy, which Brin didn’t really know how to deal with. They all talked over each other, two or three conversations going on at once, and while Zilly chimed in like she was born to it, he didn’t really know how to contribute so he stayed mostly silent.

The conversations were punctuated by loud, wall-shaking laughter when someone made a joke. Their humor was different. Bruna would ask Davi’s brother, “And will you be helping the [Carpenters] today?” and he would respond, “Yes, and when I go I’ll have a duck on my head!” to which everyone would explode with laughter.

Brin didn’t get it. If he had to explain, he’d say that it was probably funny because he said there would be a duck on his head, while people don't normally have ducks on their heads. He knew enough to laugh along when everyone else laughed, though, so he didn’t make a fool of himself.

He looked down at his breakfast. Half the steak was left, he’d saved the best for last, but for some reason he was having a hard time finishing it. There was a lump in his throat.

Right. This was probably the first time he’d been around people since he’d arrived in this world. Not just people, but a family. They were kind and welcoming and he’d never felt so alone in his life. He’d had something like this once, too.

He forced himself to take a bite. He needed to eat to build muscle, after all.

As breakfast got over the family trickled away, and Brin, Zilly, and Davi went off for their daily lessons. The other two talked happily the entire way, and hopefully didn’t notice that he couldn’t manage to do more than grunt an occasional affirmation.

Today they were with Oleg the [Wheelwright]. They entered a workshop that didn’t look much different from the [Carpenter’s] place that he’d worked at so often. There was a big table saw, and all sorts of tools for cutting, sawing and sanding, as well as lots of work tables.

The [Wheelwright] himself hadn’t arrived yet, so the children milled around, murmuring conversation. Myra didn’t march up to him and start in with the insults as usual. She stayed on the other side of the room by herself, looking subdued.

The door banged open and a cheerfully dressed man sauntered into the workshop. He wore reds and blues, including a matching striped hat with a feather. He had a spring in his step. Maybe something good had happened to him? Or maybe he was always this chipper. Brin couldn’t imagine it; that had to be exhausting.

Oleg the [Wheelwright] put his hands on his hips. “Wow, we have a good-looking bunch of young adults here today. Is everyone excited to learn about making wheels?”

The children grunted affirmations.

“I can’t hear you!” said Oleg, making Brin hate him immediately.

The children shouted “yes!”, several of them perking up noticeably. Well, he couldn’t blame them for it. Wait until the thousandth time a public speaker pulled that trick, and they’d be as sick of it as he was.

“The [Wheelwright] is an evolution of [Carpenter], so we’ll be starting off the day talking about lumber,” said Oleg.

He went straight into a lecture about the collection and preparation of lumber, and Brin realized he’d been wrong before. Woodworkers absolutely did need to worry about getting materials. They had to find the right kinds of trees, and they needed trees that were tall and wide and not too twisted and gnarly which could be a chore in this forest. Then they needed to get the logs into town, where they seasoned it, cut it, sanded it, and basically prepared it about seven different ways before it was ready to be used.

Brin had to give Oleg his due, he made the lecture interesting. He asked questions and got the kids involved, and explained things in a way that was on the children’s level while also still being interesting to Brin’s adult mind. Still, he wasn’t in the mood to be impressed with someone, so his original opinion that Oleg was an annoying kind of person stayed firmly in his mind.

It turned out that a lot more went into making wagon wheels than Brin had assumed. They had to be extra strong to account for the ridiculous loads they used them for. And there were no trees big enough to cut the whole rim out of; instead it had to be locked together perfectly from several different pieces. Each piece had to be exactly the right shape and every wheel needed to be exactly the same size. Oleg claimed that a [Carpenter] needed a whole week to make one wheel, while he could make an entire wagon in a week.

“So. [Wheelwright], not [Carpenter]. Did you notice? Can anyone tell me why the more specific your Class is, the better it is?” asked Oleg.

“Well that can’t be true,” said Brin. “Toros is just a [Smith], and he’s one of the highest-level people in town.”

“That’s a little different. Toros needs a broad Class because he needs to do the work of the entire village. If he couldn’t work with iron, for example, then we’d have no one else to ask. But if he could focus on just one thing, he’d be much better at it.”

“What about [Spinner]? It’s specific, but [Weaver] is obviously the stronger Class,” said Brin.

Myra glared at him warily, but he didn’t mean anything bad by it. It was just a useful example.

“Ah, you see? Not that useful unless what you want to do is spin, in which case [Spinner] is the better Class. Not very good at low levels, perhaps, but I know of high level [Spinners] who can literally spin straw into gold.”

The children gasped, impressed. Brin couldn’t help but start to think that [Spinner] might not be that bad of a Class to get after all, until he thought about the “high level” part. How high of a level? Because being high level in any Class could make you rich. And how much gold could they produce per day? If Lumina could spin straw into gold, she probably wouldn’t. It wouldn’t be worth her time.

Could [Spinners] manipulate thread the way [Weavers] could? Did they have any self-defense abilities? Because if not, they’d just get locked up by some [Noble] or [Bandit] or something and forced to work all day for free. Come to think of it, isn’t that exactly what happened in that fairy tale?

He thought about asking some of these questions, but honestly Oleg wasn’t really a bad guy. Brin was just in a confrontational mood. He didn’t need to be a pest.

After the lecture Oleg guided them in making little wagon wheels of their own, about two inches tall, using some of his carpenter tools. It was surprisingly complicated, but Oleg guided them through it with admirable competence and patience. The end result was a neat souvenir and he got a notification when it was done.

Through training you have increased the following attributes. Dexterity +1

Alright. He could admit when he was wrong. Oleg was cool.

After that, Brin was able to vent some of his irritability into a rowdy game of ball, but when that was done he still didn’t want to go home. He decided he’d go see Perris.

When he got to the store, an adventurer carrying a halberd and decked out all in furs was exiting the store. Terrible clothing for this weather, but the young man didn’t seem uncomfortable. At least not from the weather. He seemed very uncomfortable by the string of curses chasing him out the doors.

“Ten gold? You flea-bitten son of a goat! Come back when you’re a real adventurer! You can’t buy a bottled fart in this store with ten gold, much less a bottomless flask!”

Brin snuck past the unfortunately poor adventurer and through the door, and the yelled tirade immediately stopped.

“I’ll sell you a boot to your– Ah, Brin. Good to see you, son.”

“Hey Perris. Rough day?”

“Not for me!” Perris put on a sleazy smile. “Can I make an observation? Just something out of the blue, for no reason, but I must say: Tawna sucks. She comes in at least once a week to stare at me for five minutes, then she leaves and never buys anything. Again, only an observation. You know I don’t often talk to people and I never listen to them, so this is to do with nothing, just an observation.”

Brin laughed, a full belly laugh that chased away a lot of the anxiety he didn’t realize he’d been carrying. “Thanks, man.”

“Now, Marksi, you’re looking… bad,” said Perris with a sneer at the little snake on Brin’s shoulder. “You look fat and slow and dumb. Do you even hunt?”

Marksi hissed, and then hid in Brin’s hood.

“Hey, don’t listen to him, Marksi! You’re a great snake. Very fierce. Remember those flies you caught this morning?” Brin reached back and gave Marksi a scratch.

Perris winked at him. “Now Brin. Are you in for anything special today?”

“You could say that,” said Brin. “So listen, I convinced Hogg to buy me adventurer gear for my System Day. You know he’s loaded, right? Well I want to lighten that load.”

Brin would actually be the one paying, but they’d decided to let everyone think that Hogg was footing the bill.

An evil glint entered Perris’ eye. “Spending someone else’s money, I see. I approve! An enchanted sword?”

“Or two.”

“Potions? Equipment? Single-use enchantments? Armor?”

“The best leather armor you can make.”

“Why don’t we have a look around?”

Brin held up a hand. “I’ve got one condition. I want your best price.”

“Never!”

“I want your best price… plus ten percent. On the condition that you accidentally deliver the goods a little early. I’d like to break them in before my System Day if you catch my drift. Hogg doesn’t need to know.”

A lot hung on this conversation. Perris had let it slip a while ago there was an achievement for killing a monster before your System Day, something Brin had already deduced. The only issue was, why didn’t he already have it? He already killed ten undead. But the System hadn’t called them monsters, it had called them soldiers. So there was probably a different achievement for killing monsters. Whatever it was, he wanted it. Assuming Perris went along with it.

Perris twisted his mustache. “An extra ten percent? Now you’re speaking my language.”

They went to the sword display case first, and Perris picked out two swords without even asking Brin’s opinions. Both of them were dull gray, and neither were the blue Sapphire sword that Brin wanted the most.

“Wait, why not that one? Or the red one with fire magic?”

Perris dropped his villainous sneer, looking uncharacteristically serious. “Let us be clear about what we’re talking about here. There are no monsters in the forest that a child can safely defeat. I’ve noticed you think best with numbers, so let’s put it like this. The weakest and most common monsters are a difficult fight for a level ten [Warrior], meaning level twenty for a common Class. Now, I have swords here, good swords, that can make someone ten, or even twenty percent stronger. That won’t be enough, not for you. You need to be twenty times stronger. So choose. Strength,” he held up the sword on the left, “or speed.” He held up the sword on the right.

“Strength,” said Brin on instinct.

Perris placed the sword on the table in front of him. “A slight enchantment to speed, but the greatest feature of this sword is the core of silver glass. It will drastically improve the strength of your blows. For one or two strikes, you’ll have the hitting power of a level thirty [Warrior]. But it’s fragile. It will shatter on the killing blow. This is a sword for killing a single enemy.”

“What if I have more than one enemy?”

“Don’t have more than one enemy,” said Perris. “If you meet more than one monster in the forest, run away. You aren’t a legendary hero. You are a child. I understand the need a man has to forge his own foundation, but make no mistake, even with this sword it’s a coin-flip whether or not you’ll survive. Two coin flips isn’t a bet worth taking.”

“I understand. Do you have something for running away?”

Perris smiled and lifted the other sword. “Sword of speed. Don’t try to use them at the same time. The glass core will explode if it’s unsheathed near the sword of speed. You can’t assume enchanted equipment will all work together, and never put something on if you aren’t sure of where it came from. Get it appraised first, by someone who knows what they’re doing.”

“Good advice. What’s the sword of speed do?” asked Brin.

“A small, persistent increase in speed over a day. Or, you can flip this switch on the pommel and use it all at once. You’ll have a quick, intense burst of speed, to flee one enemy. Or kill it perhaps. It won’t shatter when the magic is done, and it’ll still work as a sharp piece of metal. Come and get it re-enchanted if you’re smart and choose life.”

“Good to know,” said Brin.

Perris let the swords go for thirty and forty gold, and Brin was happy to let him add his ten percent.

“Hey, I just remembered something I’ve meant to ask you. Do these swords use my magic to fuel their enchantments, or is it built in?”

“It’s built in,” said Perris. “Chamylla has to make a battery of sorts for each one, it’s one of the main drivers of cost. Even more expensive is when the sword needs to recharge itself by absorbing ambient mana, rather than single-use enchantments like these two have.”

“Do any of them use their wielder’s magic?”

“Why?”

“I just think… if using your muscles makes you stronger, then…”

Perris raised an eyebrow, then turned and walked back to his counter. Behind the counter were shelves full of lockboxes. These were full of expensive small stealable items that he guarded with enchanted locks and with his body whenever adventurers drew too close.

He pulled out a wicked-looking metal object that sort of looked like an evil starfish. It has six clawed points and a long, thick needle jutting out of the middle.

“Press this into your flesh. The needle will drain your mana at great speed. Make sure you’re already laying down before you start. It will be pain like you’ve rarely experienced. The needle will disengage on its own when you’re empty, so it won’t kill you. Have Marksi stand by, to get help if something goes wrong. You can at least do that, can’t you, Marksi?”

The little snake shuddered inside of Brin’s hood at the sound of his name, but didn’t come out.

“Also, visit the [Pharmacist] on the way home to get something for the scars. I don’t want anyone coming here to ask where you got them. You will not punish me for trusting you with this, do you hear me?” Perris asked, unusually stern.

“I won’t,” said Brin.

“Also, I should mention that it isn’t going to work. You’ll get a few points, but you’ll never hit the threshold in time before your System day, not unless you’re already at twenty.”

“I understand, but I still want to try. And thank you. Every other adult in this town would just tell me to stop chasing evil Classes,” said Brin.

“Hypocrites! Besides, if they could have dissuaded you, they already would have. All that’s left is to help you survive.”

“You’re a good person.”

Perris raised a finger and glared. “DON’T! Call me that!”

Brin laughed, and Perris laughed along, with his usual dramatic cackle.

“Alright, so what else you got?”

Perris had a few regular things, like a compass and a crude map with landmarks of the immediate area. He had some awesome things, too. A smoke bomb that would also send off sparks and heat. It would work against undead, and also creatures that hunted using electrical senses. He sold him a wand that fired a one time fire beam spell. “Don’t point this at anything you don’t want to destroy.” He also sold him two more cheaper wands that fired illusions that looked like the flame beam spell. “For bluffing, in case the first one doesn’t finish them off.” The thing Brin was most excited about, however, was a black, swirling potion.

“A potion of Turn Undead,” said Perris. “Eighty gold.”

“Eighty gold? That’s crazy. That costs more than both swords combined.”

“Cost isn’t always the same thing as value,” Perris said in a low voice. “Everyone else can ignore what’s right past their noses, but I can see the writing on the wall. The tidings you brought from Travin’s Bog. The fact that the merchant caravan is half a month late. I haven’t talked to Hogg in a while. And you don’t see the Prefit around town much, do you? Any other time perhaps I’d agree with the others and tell you to slow down, but now? Get stronger, Brin. And I’m going to need eighty gold to part with this.”

“I’ll take it,” said Brin.

“Let me not oversell what this is. It is a potion; it must be drunk, or the majority of it must be poured upon open skin. It will free the departed’s living soul from enslavement, but you will not become their new master. There’s no telling what they’ll do.”

“I’ll take it,” said Brin.

The one thing he didn’t get was healing potions, because Perris didn’t have them. Healing wasn’t as convenient in this world as it should’ve been. The only two people in town with healing-related Classes were the [Pharmacist] and the [Midwife], and while both were impressive compared to medieval medicine from his world, neither could heal wounds in seconds or regrow limbs.

“Anything else?”

“Yeah. Armor. How good is your leather?” asked Brin.

“I got a piece of that chimera the [Hunters] brought in. My next set of leather armor will be the best armor ever produced in this town,” said Perris with no small amount of pride.

“I want it, but I need to ask first. Could you let it out to make it bigger as I keep growing?” asked Brin.

Perris showed Brin a scrap of leather. He cut it in half with a knife, then put his pieces back together and ran a thumb along the seam. The leather was healed, becoming one piece again.

Brin smiled. “I want the chimera leather armor. But I have one condition: all of it needs to be seamless. Don’t use any thread at all. Can you do it?”

Perris’ face lit up in delight. “My boy, I knew I liked you for a reason.”

He didn’t take any of the things home with him, except for the magic-drainer. The rest, Perris would deliver it sometime before his System Day, and before that he needed to find a way to sneak three hundred and twenty gold out of the house. Not that it would be hard. Hogg had been distracted lately.

Still in a good mood from talking to Perris, and thinking about the terrific breakfast, Brin decided to make dinner. Something from home. Could he make enchiladas? After a trip to the [Pharmacist], he went to the bakery. The [Baker] was more than happy to make a pile of tortillas for Brin once he explained what he wanted, and he found some seasonings and spices that could work, along with a nice cheese.

When he got home, though, he was alone. So, so empty, especially after seeing Davi’s family and remembering that people really did still live like that. Hogg was away somewhere, and Brin lost all motivation to make enchiladas. He skipped dinner and then went to bed. He laid there and stared at the ceiling.

He pulled out the mana-drainer. The [Pharmacist] had sold him something to prevent scars, but was he supposed to put it on before or after? After, probably. He’d go back tomorrow and ask, just to be sure. For now? No time like the present.

He jammed the device, needle first, into his forearm. The pain hit immediately, like a bull had kicked him in both temples at once. He would’ve thrown up if he’d eaten dinner, and Marksi squeaked in worry and tore through the house, frantic, but there was no one to ask for help.

The device clicked and disengaged from his arm, bringing out a squirt of blood. The hole pumped twice, shooting little lines of blood, then stopped.

The pain didn’t stop. The headache pounded in his brain, and he welcomed it, with the way that it chased away every other thought, even the loneliness.

Through training you have increased the following attributes. Magic +1

The end of Part 2