Relief crashed over Brett like a wave as the timber walls of the town came into full view.

  We’re not going to die in some stinking forest, he thought, barely holding back a laugh or maybe a sob. For the first time in hours, his shoulders eased. The tension that had gripped him since that first goblin encounter was finally beginning to unwind. His clothes were damp with sweat, his legs ached, and his staff arm was sore from spell after spell. But they’d made it.

  They weren’t going to die.

  If it hadn’t been for Josh’s easygoing calm, the way he shrugged off danger like it was nothing, how he stood in front of monsters just to give Brett a chance to breathe, he wasn’t sure he’d have lasted the day. For all his complaining and dry sarcasm, Josh had shielded him again and again without hesitation.

  Brett swallowed hard, glancing at his friend. He wouldn’t forget that. Not ever.

  “Brett, what do we tell them when we get there?” Josh’s voice broke into his thoughts as the road came into view beneath their boots.

  Brett raised a brow. “Tell who what?”

  “The town. The people. If they ask where we’re from, or what we’re doing out here, or how we got here… what do we say?”

  “Oh.” He hadn’t thought of that.

  They fell into step side-by-side as the road curved gently toward the wooden gate in the distance. Brett ran his tongue across his teeth, thinking fast. “Well… we’ll need to make something up. Obviously we can’t say we just got pulled through a portal from another world.”

  Josh broke off a bit of hard bread and bit into it as Brett frowned, working through different ideas.

  “We can say… we were with a merchant caravan,” Brett said slowly, “and we got attacked by goblins. The guards and the merchant were killed, and we had to flee into the woods. We got turned around, tried to survive, then found this road.”

  He looked at Josh. “And we say we were planning to become adventurers. That fits, right? Two survivors with no home, looking for work?”

  Josh nodded, mouth full. “It’s… not bad.”

  “Not bad?” Brett gave him a sideways look. “It's got everything. Tragedy. Survival. Motivation. A perfectly believable backstory.”

  Josh grinned. “Yeah, but you forgot the part where I heroically saved your life multiple times.”

  “Oh, I left that out on purpose.”

  They both laughed, the sound lightening their footsteps as the gates grew nearer. For the first time since arriving in this strange new world, Brett felt like maybe, maybe, things were going to be okay.

  Brett stopped walking, grabbing Josh lightly by the arm. “Wait. We don’t actually know any place names in this world. We can’t say we came from a village near... something, if we don’t know what something is.”

  Josh blinked at him, then shrugged. “So?”

  “So we need a tighter story. One that doesn’t fall apart the moment someone asks, ‘where’s that?’ or ‘how far did you travel?’” Brett’s eyes narrowed in thought, then lit up. “Alright. Your uncle Roger, he was a merchant. We left our home village with him, hoping to see the world and become adventurers.”

  Josh grinned. “Uncle Roger, huh? Sounds like a legend already.”

  Brett ignored the comment, pressing on. “Neither of us were cut out for farming. Too clumsy, too curious. So we packed up, left the village when we got our classes. The town was so small it didn’t even have a name. And then we started traveling with your uncle. A few days into the journey, we were attacked by goblins. But not just goblins, there were bigger things too, monsters we didn’t recognize. They uprooted a tree and crushed the cart. The guard died instantly. Your uncle yelled for us to run while he held them off.”

  He paused, letting the weight of the story sink in before finishing. “We ran into the forest. Got lost. Survived for three days, fighting, hiding, praying. Then we found the road. And now we’re here.”

  Josh gave a solemn nod, then smirked. “Right. Dead uncle Roger. Unnamed village. Escaped death. Total memory loss of the local geography. Perfect. I’ll let you do the talking.”

  They reached the road proper, the packed dirt well-trodden and lined with the occasional wagon wheel groove. The town gates loomed closer, and with them, the people, travelers, traders, guards, some haggling, others waiting to pass through inspection. Brett glanced around, his nerves prickling again.

  “We don’t exactly look local,” he muttered.

  Josh looked down at his own torn and bloodstained clothes. “I dunno, I think I’m blending in pretty well with the ‘ragged peasant’ aesthetic.”

  “Yeah, you maybe,” Brett grumbled. His own clothes were still mostly clean, if a bit dusty, stood out far more than Josh’s. The fabric, the stitching, even the style was all wrong. They screamed ‘not from here’ in a way he couldn’t ignore.

  “We’ll just say it’s a regional fashion,” Brett decided. “Our village’s tailors were experimental.”

  Josh snorted. “If anyone asks, I’ll say we were trendsetters.”

  “Just follow my lead,” Brett sighed, adjusting his posture and trying to look less like a lost college student and more like a traumatized would-be adventurer.

  As they joined the flow of people approaching the gate, the sun dipped lower behind them, casting golden light on the towering wooden walls. They were almost there. Almost safe.

  All they had to do now was sell the lie.

  Brett finally turned his full attention to the queue ahead of them. A line of carts stretched toward the gate, each surrounded by small groups of merchants, travellers and families. The scent of hay, sweat, and smoke lingered in the air, stirred by a soft breeze. But it wasn’t the carts or the clutter of supplies that held his focus.

  It was the people.

  His breath caught in his throat.

  They weren’t all human.

  Some of them looked close, at first glance, maybe just short or oddly built but then he noticed the details. A group of stocky, broad-shouldered individuals stood by a wagon stacked with firewood, their faces craggy and bearded, their eyes sharp beneath thick brows. Dwarves? He’d only ever seen them in games and movies.

  A little further along, a slender figure leaned against a cart, idly polishing a blade. Their frame was tall and lithe, with ears that arched to elegant points. Elves. It had to be.

  And more. Dozens of figures that blurred the line between man and beast. One had feline eyes that glowed amber in the afternoon light, his nose just slightly too flat, his smile hiding fangs. Another looked almost like a man-shaped wolf, his fur mottled and thick around his arms and jawline. A girl no taller than Brett’s waist carried a small sack over her shoulder, her oversized ears twitching at every sound. Her tail flicked behind her as naturally as an afterthought.

  Brett stared, frozen for a moment. We really are in a fantasy world.

  He wasn’t sure whether to be terrified or thrilled. The creatures he’d read about in books or clicked past in game menus were now real, living, breathing, standing in front of him in a bustling queue to get into town. It wasn’t just the stats screen, or the goblins, or even the magic, this was something that could not be mistaken. This was a different world.

  He shot a glance at Josh, who was already scanning the crowd with interest, his face half-excited, half-cautious. At least he wasn’t the only one trying to play it cool.

  Ahead, the guards worked with surprising speed and efficiency. They moved between the groups without any sign of malice or corruption. Some greeted people with familiar smiles and nods. Others took a more formal tone, asking questions, checking goods, opening sacks and crates. But there were no drawn swords, no shouting or shakedowns, just a calm, methodical process. Brett found himself breathing easier. Whatever this town was, it didn’t look like it was run by tyrants or thugs. And that was a good start.

  He straightened his back and whispered, “Alright. Just stick to the story.”

  Josh flashed him a grin. “Dead uncle Roger. Local fashion. Future adventurers. Got it.”

  Brett wasn’t sure what would happen once they reached the front of the line, but for now, he let the smallest spark of hope settle in his chest. They’d made it this far. And for the first time since arriving in this strange new world, it felt like maybe they belonged here.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Brett and Josh quickly found themselves at the front of the queue, stepping up to a stocky guard clad in worn leather armour. The man looked human, with a thick beard, sun-darkened skin, and a scar tracing his jawline. He held a tall spear in one hand, its tip well-maintained but clearly used.

  The guard offered a professional smile, not unkind. “Alright, you two. What brings you to Ashenfall?”

  Brett blinked. Ashenfall. Okay, that’s the name of the town. He forced a shaky breath through his nose, nodded, and jumped on the chance to steer the conversation.

  “Oh, thank the heavens, that's where we are?” he said, trying to sound more relieved than nervous. “We got separated from our cart during a goblin ambush. Been walking the forest ever since, hoping to find help.”

  He’d adjusted their story on instinct, keeping it simpler. Fewer details, fewer questions.

  The guard’s brow creased, sympathy softening his posture. “Damn. That’s rough. You’re not the first. We’ve had a few incidents lately, goblins hitting caravans, travelers going missing. The road’s supposed to be safe, but…” He shook his head. “Did either of you get hurt?”

  Josh finally snapped out of whatever daydream had taken him, glancing at the guard and nodding. “A few cuts and bruises, nothing serious.”

  Brett added, “We had some gear, figured we’d try our luck as adventurers, so we left home prepared, sort of. We knew some of the basics, enough to hold off the goblins. Just barely. We were lucky, more than anything.”

  The guard chuckled. “Luck’s a fair skill out here. Better than some training, sometimes.”

  He glanced at the two of them again, as if reassessing. “Were you headed to Ashenfall then? Or just passing through?”

  “We were just travelling,” Brett replied smoothly, nodding toward Josh. “With his uncle, a merchant. He was letting us see a bit of the world, figure out where we might settle or train, maybe. We didn’t have a fixed destination.”

  Josh smiled vaguely, clearly still only half paying attention as he stared up at the parapet above the gates, likely imagining archers or catapults or some fantasy scene playing out.

  The guard followed Brett’s gesture and then grinned, evidently buying the story. “You picked a good place to end up. Ashenfall’s a frontier town, close enough to the Wastes to attract trouble, but far enough that we can still sleep at night. Lots of work for merchants, adventurers, craftsmen… and plenty of danger if that’s what you’re after.”

  He paused, then leaned slightly on his spear. “Normally, there’s a toll to get through the gate, helps cover the guard rotations and keep the walls in one piece. But… you two look like you’ve had a rough few days. You’re not carrying much, and frankly you don’t look like you’ve got a coin to your name.”

  Brett flushed slightly but didn’t deny it.

  “I’ll wave the fee today,” the guard said, gesturing them through. “If you’re serious about the adventuring thing, head to the guildhall. They’ll help you get registered, find others around your level, maybe get some starter work. After you’ve seen a few things, you’ll know whether to stick with it or look for something steadier, like guarding the walls with us. Pays less, but you live longer.”

  He gave a self-deprecating smile before stepping aside. “Go on in. Welcome to Ashenfall. And try not to get yourselves killed.”

  “Thanks,” Brett said quickly, heart pounding as they began passing through the open gate and into the town beyond.

  Josh clapped him lightly on the back. “Dead Uncle Roger would be proud.”

  Brett just grunted. “Let’s try not to actually die. At least not until we’ve found the guild.”

  Brett glanced back over his shoulder and saw that several more groups had joined the queue in the short time they’d been speaking with the guard. Carts creaked, voices rose, and travellers waited under the late-morning sun. Busy place, he thought. Guess that means people actually want to be here.

  He nodded respectfully once more to the guard as they made their way past. “You've really helped us. Could you point us to the adventurers' guild?”

  The guard gave a friendly smile and gestured through the gates. “No problem. Just follow the main road straight through. You’ll see it near the town square, it’s a big wooden building with a slanted roof and a guild crest over the door. Hard to miss. Good luck out there.”

  Brett gave a grateful nod. “Thanks again.”

  Then he turned and gave Josh a nudge in the shoulder to snap him out of whatever daydream he’d wandered into. The pair stepped through the gates together, finally entering Ashenfall.

  A wave of strange but oddly comforting smells met them immediately, fresh bread, sizzling meat, sweet spices, something herbal and unfamiliar. It was like walking into a living postcard from another world. Brett let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, a mix of awe and exhaustion washing through him. They didn’t press us for details. That’s good… maybe too good. Guess goblin attacks are just a Tuesday around here.

  They strolled deeper into the town, the cobbled road beneath their boots echoing faintly with every step. The buildings lining the main street were a patchwork of styles and materials, some stone, some timber, many with thatched or tiled roofs, all close-packed but vibrant. Most were only a couple of stories tall, with wooden signs swinging gently in the breeze and bright cloth awnings shading goods from the sun.

  The sheer diversity of the people hit them first. It was one thing seeing it at the gate, but walking through the crowd made it inescapable. Brett caught sight of all sorts of races, short, bearded dwarves hauling crates; tall, graceful figures with leaf-green cloaks and pointed ears who could only be elves; stout beastkin with furred arms or feline eyes; even a few hulking figures that might’ve been orcs or something close to them. The blend of cultures and appearances gave the town an energy unlike anything Brett had ever experienced.

  The marketplace itself was a riot of colour and noise. Merchants called out prices, bartering with locals and travellers alike. Stalls overflowed with strange and fascinating goods: fruits in shades he’d never seen before, bright violet grapes with gold flecks, something like a watermelon but covered in coarse blue hairs. A carrot the size of a toddler, and pink. A tiny, wrinkled fruit the colour of wet sand that apparently counted as a citrus. He passed a baker’s stall where steam wafted from still-warm loaves, the smell nearly enough to drag him by the nose. Next door, a weathered man sold daggers and shortswords from a wooden rack. Farther on, stalls offered cloaks, bundles of rope, bottles of alchemical-looking liquids, rough-spun clothing, furs, firewood, even small cages with twitchy little creatures inside.

  Everything a person might need to survive or even thrive was sold in a place like this.

  And yet, something still gnawed at the back of Brett’s mind. He caught himself scanning the buildings for anything familiar - an outlet, a satellite dish, even a single lightbulb. Nothing. No signs of electricity, no wires overhead, no hum of machines. Just the clatter of hooves, the calls of traders, and the laughter of children playing near a fountain.

  It wasn’t unexpected. He’d guessed this world was pre-industrial the moment they saw the goblins and swords. But now that they were truly inside a town, seeing it with his own eyes… it hit harder. There’d be no phones. No GPS. No Internet.

  No quick search for “how to get back to Earth.”

  He swallowed. The idea that they might be here for the long haul, maybe forever, sank in just a little deeper.

  “Hey,” Josh said, breaking the silence. “This place is actually kind of amazing.”

  Brett managed a half-smile, brushing off his thoughts for now. “Yeah… just wait till we see the guild.”

  They continued walking down the bustling street, toward the heart of Ashenfall and toward whatever future this strange new world had in store for them.

  Josh looked at all the different people, working different trades, some were obviously not fighters. "Hey, Brett, do you think there's options other than fighting classes?"

  As if by magic, a system message appeared.

  [System hint - In Eldanar, it is standard that people can pick their class on their fourteenth birthday. Their options are heavily influanced by their life choices up to that point, but everyone will usually be offered base options, such as Warrior, Trader and Crafter. From there, their classes can evolve and specialise. You did not get this option, as your fate is to be heroes of this world.]

  They continued walking down the main street, eyes wide, doing their best not to bump into the steady stream of people weaving past them. But it was hard not to stare. Every few steps, something new caught their attention, an unfamiliar scent, a burst of music from a street performer, strange accents they didn’t recognise being spoken at a stall.

  They weren’t just captivated by the wares for sale, but by the people themselves.

  Brett spotted a pair of short humanoids chatting near a cart stacked with wooden crates. One was slim and sharp-featured with oversized goggles perched on his forehead, gesturing animatedly with his hands. The other stood barely taller, but was stockier, with braided copper-red hair and arms like carved stone. Gnome and dwarf, Brett guessed, heart pounding a little faster. Just… chatting like this is all normal.

  A little farther down the road, two furred humanoids with feline features were in a heated argument over the price of a bundle of tanned hides. One had tall ears like a lynx and fur that bristled with every word; the other flicked a long, bushy tail in irritation. Beastfolk, Brett thought, recalling the word from the system’s earlier message. He had to physically force himself not to slow down and stare, and several times he caught himself gaping outright, jaw half-open in disbelief. He shut it quickly, cheeks flushing. Focus. Don’t act like a tourist. Or a lunatic.

  The crowd thickened as they moved deeper into the town, and the buildings around them grew larger, more ornate. Signs were etched into fine wood or polished metal instead of painted boards. The marketplace took on a more refined air, gone were the patched tents and barrels of wild produce. In their place were stores with clean glass windows, smartly dressed merchants, and wares displayed like treasures. A jeweller’s stall showcased glittering gems beneath magnifying lenses. An armourer offered gleaming plate mail, polished so brightly it caught the sun like a mirror.

  Brett paused for a heartbeat as they passed a boutique clothing shop. In the window hung a dress that shimmered like it had been spun from turquoise fish scales. The fabric caught the light in shifting hues, like sunlight on water. Maybe it’s made from monster loot, he wondered, lingering just a second too long before Josh gave him a nudge to keep moving.

  Finally, they emerged into a wide open square, the heart of Ashenfall.

  It was bustling, yet strangely calm. A wide circular plaza paved with clean stone, bordered on all sides by grand buildings, each more intricate than the last. The air here felt different, almost charged - this place mattered.

  In the centre stood a raised wooden stage, empty for now, but clearly designed for speeches, performances, or public announcements. People flowed around it like water around a rock, each person with somewhere to be. It wasn’t hard to imagine a crowd gathering here under a setting sun to hear from a town leader or watch a bard's tale unfold.

  Brett turned slowly in a full circle, drinking in the scene. The buildings surrounding the square bore symbols above their doors, clear identifiers, even if their meanings weren’t entirely obvious. One had a golden crown carved into its archway. Another displayed a stack of silver coins. A third bore the image of a delicate needle and spool of thread, likely a tailor’s guild or master clothier.

  Then Brett’s eyes landed on it, a tall, wide building of dark, polished wood and carved stone. Above the doors, engraved in a large metal crest, was the image of a sword crossed with a staff, both encircled by a laurel wreath.

  He nudged Josh and pointed. “I think we’ve found the adventurers’ guild.”

  Josh grinned. “Finally.”

  They shared a look, half excitement, half nerves and stepped forward together, heading toward the place that might just hold the key to everything this world had to offer.

  The moonlight fades, the forest quiets…

  Yet one whisper remains:

  “Follow, mortal. Leave your words behind.

  For even in silence, stories crave to be heard.”