Travelers come and travelers go on the Infinite Plane. Those Visitors arrive. We know what has put them here: the intervention of the gods. As for us who were born of our parents who were born of theirs, the Infinite Plane is our ancestral home, and our fate is to remain on this side of the heavens.

  –Greater Archscholar Mellior Cruskin, The Verses I.47.iii

  For the second time in the past hour or so, Andy came to consciousness in a new world. He was submerged in warm water as bubbles rose around him. It was dark in most directions, but a dance of contrasting pale and warm lights helped him find the surface.

  His feet found the stone floor, and he pushed himself up. The water gave way to a mixture of cool air and dense steam.

  He was in some sort of hot-water pool. The first thing he saw was a ludicrously large full moon in the sky above him.

  He seemed to be in some sort of outdoor stone pool, maybe a hot spring, at the edge of a clearing. He was in the midst of a great many mountains, overlooking forests illuminated with bright, silvery moonlight. In the distance, there was a coast, and next to the coast were the warm lights of a sprawling city.

  Oddly, it felt more real than life.

  Andy turned to see a pathway that wound through a few delicate trees. At the end of the pathway was a small fire, and a young man and woman.

  The woman looked confused as she began to approach Andy. "Wait, this hasn't happened in… years."

  The two of them rushed around some shrubbery to a small covered area and rummaged around before returning with a large towel.

  "Greetings, Visitor," said the woman. She knelt down and placed a towel by the pool. Andy could see the details–it seemed like arcane symbols–on her embroidered robes. Aside from the clothing and her waist-length silvery blonde hair, she seemed like any other woman Andy had seen on earth. About medium height, with skin that seemed to have enjoyed plenty of sun. No pointy ears. No glowing eyes. "You can use this to dry yourself."

  There was a circular, stone patio surrounding the pool with a couple of small tables. There were some small trees and shrubs beyond the patio. Behind Andy, there was a vast, open field with a huge, vibrantly starry sky. He was on the edge of a mountain meadow.

  "And here is a temporary robe and some footwear," said the man, placing the items on the small table.

  He was tall, with a similar complexion as the woman, jet-black hair, and a subtle smile.

  Unlike the woman's robes, his were plain and simple. His demeanor radiated calm.

  "Now, we know how Visitors like their privacy," he said, "so we'll leave you to it. When you're dressed, you can meet us over by the fire. We were just preparing dinner."

  Andy hadn't expected such a formal, direct welcome. In fact, he didn't really know what he had expected. Both of the people attending the spawn pool seemed perfectly sincere. There wasn't a hint of irony or ulterior motive. And they seemed just as surprised as Andy was.

  "Where am I?" Andy asked.

  "You're at the Dawnspring Cottage, just outside the city of Cresthaven," said the woman, smiling. "Welcome!"

  The two attendants left the immediate area and headed toward the bonfire. Andy wasn't thrilled that he didn't have any clothes on, and he was even less thrilled that there wasn't a curtain or something between him and the others, but it was dark enough, and he didn't have to be facing them.

  He found some steps toward the edge of the pool and emerged, picking up the towel. He began to dry off. The towel was exquisitely warm, like it had come out of a dryer. It was a welcome contrast to the cold air against his skin.

  After he was sufficiently dried off, he took the robe. It was thick and plenty warm, and it went down past his knees. The shoes slipped on easily. They were quite comfortable, some kind of wool-lined moccasin.

  He took a moment to observe the landscape. Perhaps it was just the cold air, but he felt alive, connected with nature, with the environment. Already the feeling here was much more open, much less constrained than the average day in his old life, spent in front of a screen or under a piano.

  He was in some sort of large garden with tall hedges. Outside the garden, a huge vista opened up to several mountains and a clear view of a coastal city below. The city's lights shone clearly in the crisp night air. Toward the center of the city, massive spires rose to meet the night sky.

  Andy took the towel with him and arrived at the bonfire. The small pool, where he had just come from, was tucked behind a set of shrubs and small trees, and the larger patio opened up around the fire.

  The man came over and took the towel from Andy.

  "Here," he said as he passed him a small bowl of rice, beans, and vegetables covered in a bright red sauce that smelled of garlic, lime, and hot peppers.

  "Thank you," Andy said. "I don't have anything to pay you with."

  "Not to worry," said the man. "We don’t expect Visitors to have money. But, you should know, it has been a while since we had a Visitor arrive here,” he said with a chuckle. "We may be rusty."

  “Rusty in what sense?” Andy asked.

  “Ah, well, we both have advanced levels in the Scholar class,” said the man, gesturing toward the woman. “As advanced Scholars, we’ve been asked to tend to the Dawnspring Cottage, where Visitors like you arrive from time to time. We’re tasked with greeting you, showing you some hospitality, and getting you started on your journey. There’s a lot to cover.”

  There was a metal grate over a portion of the fire and it looked like several stuffed peppers were roasting. The aroma was divine.

  “So I’m the first one in a while?” Andy asked.

  “Yes,” said the woman. “It’s been many years since we’ve had a Visitor arrive here, and they’ve all gone off on their own adventures. It’s refreshing, actually, to have a new arrival.”

  “So, welcome to Ur-Aleth. You’re on the continent of Palima in the Cresthaven region named after the coastal city just to the east of here,” said the man.

  “The one over there?” Andy asked, pointing toward the twinkling lights of the skyline.

  “That’s the one,” said Rowan.

  Andy turned to see the rest of the property. Just beyond a row of hedges, there was a small cottage covered with vining plants and surrounded by a neat garden. Some gardening tools and equipment leaned against it, and a large telescope stood next to a doorway.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  "Is this your house?" Andy asked.

  "Yes," said the man.

  "Well," the woman said, "we are taking care of it."

  "Yes we do take care of the property. We live here. I suppose it technically belongs to the Scholar's Guild. This is Dawnspring Cottage. It was built here on the springs of mount Aurora, from which the Visitors, like you, emerge. We're stationed here so that we can attend the pools and guide those who come through," said the man. "Oh, I was so surprised by your arrival, I’ve forgotten my manners. My name is Rowan," he said, bowing slightly.

  "And I am Lilly," said the woman, bowing similarly.

  As Andy introduced himself, he thought about attempting to imitate their bows. The two hosts did it so naturally without a second thought, so perhaps it was a common custom. But it also seemed awkward.

  “Please, eat up!” Rowan said.

  Andy nodded and took a bite of the vegetables and rice. It was delicious, and very spicy. As he swallowed it, he felt himself grow more energized, more vital.

  "What does this have in it?" Andy asked.

  "Ah! Do you like it? It's a recipe from Malia, my island home. They don't grow peppers like that around here, but I know enough merchants that I can get them when I want. I was feeling homesick, so I put in an order last week and they arrived today," said Rowan.

  “I do,” Andy said, savoring the dish. It was odd. The flavor of the food here was hyper-realistic. It popped with more definition and intensity than anything he had tasted in his previous life. Was it because the food was better? Was it because his body was more perceptive?

  “Rowan is an excellent cook,” said Lilly. “If it weren’t for him, I’d be eating sweets all day while I work on my studies.”

  “What do you study?” Andy asked.

  Lilly’s eyebrows raised with a kind of excitement that Andy recognized as a nerd about to info-dump about their special interest, but then she caught herself. “I study a few aspects of the System,” she said. “Right now, I’m researching feat-fixing, actually.”

  Andy didn’t know what that meant, exactly, but he didn’t want to get too in the weeds. Not yet.

  Feat-fixing… I’ll file that away for later.

  Andy continued to eat voraciously until he decimated the food in his bowl. His capsaicin-coated mouth burned in an intense, pleasant pain.

  Lilly scratched her chin, lost in thought. “Well, before we get into anything else, I suppose we should teach him about the System, right?”

  “Yes, yes,” Rowan said. “Andy, do me a favor. Meditate on the tip of your nose, if you will.”

  A bit of an odd request, but Andy complied. He concentrated on the tip of his nose and closed his eyes. Then he saw it… a kind of imaginary display that stood there in his mind’s eye.

  Andy opened his eyes.

  “Were you able to see your display?” Lilly asked.

  “Yes,” said Andy, “clear as day.”

  “Well, splendid,” said Rowan. “You can check on your display at any time, but you’ll also see it when you’ve achieved something that the System deems notable. Why don’t we teach you how to work with the System, then?”

  “I’m ready when you are,” said Andy.

  ***

  Morwen made her way across the outer city of Cresthaven, through the alleys and sidestreets. Darkness had fallen hours ago, and the street vendors were packing up as the crowds thinned for the evening.

  She would have liked more bodies in the streets to obscure her movements, just in case anyone was surveilling her.

  Luckily, she had an unremarkable figure. She was five feet and nine inches, fairly tall for a woman, with a medium build and dirty blonde hair cut boyishly short. With the loose robe that she wore over her leather armor, she could pass for a male to the casual observer.

  Finally, she arrived at the headquarters of the Order of the Behemoth on the western outskirts of the city. The stone structure was elegant and old, larger than many of the surrounding buildings, but not ostentatiously so. She breathed deeply and sighed before knocking on the heavy oak door.

  A small, square slot opened in the oak door. “Ah, Morwen,” came the familiar, shaky voice. The door unlatched and opened inward as Bradley, the aging headquarters groundskeeper for the Order, beckoned Morwen in. He wore a squinting smile and a simple tunic.

  Morwen thanked Bradley as she took off her outer robe, hanging it on a hook in the foyer.

  The Order’s dark headquarters were lit by wall-mounted torches and a large stone hearth at the center of the room. No light shone through the stained glass windows.

  The hearth room was achingly empty, except for Bradley, Morwen, and one other figure. At the edge of the hearth, Agatha, the Order’s current Vigilant Superior, stood, gazing into the hot coals.

  “Morwen,” she said without looking up. “I trust you’ve come to give me the bad news.”

  “Yes, well–” Morwen began. Agatha always knew Morwen’s messages before she delivered them. “Sometimes I wonder why I bother coming down to the city from my grove if you already know what I’m going to tell you.”

  Agatha faced Morwen. The lines on her face were heavy and deep, betraying decades of battle experience and worry, but she wore a gentle, tired smile. “Your last prospective student has decided to strike out on her own, eh?”

  “Yes,” Morwen said, sighing. “Private employment is simply too lucrative to compete with. Our numbers continue to dwindle.”

  Agatha breathed deeply. “People do not join the Order for monetary gain… I suppose it is to be expected. The people of Cresthaven have not seen political hardship in quite some time and memories are short… They do not remember what the Order of the Behemoth is for. Supreme Minister Crotias has been good to the citizens over the past half century...”

  It was true. Caines Crotias had been a fair-minded ruler. He remembered the consequences of greed and exploitation in Cresthaven’s history. The fruits of inequality, as history had shown, were rebellion and revolution. No ruler could stand against a disgruntled populace.

  The Order of the Behemoth had been formed centuries ago, during a time of extreme oppression, war, and upheaval. They had been instrumental in the Ten Day Rebellion, and had overthrown Cresthaven’s tyrannical mad king.

  Caines had taken history to heart and ensured that all citizens of Cresthaven had access to food, medicine, and basic education. While the lower classes still lived modest and often difficult lives, their basic needs were cared for.

  But Caines Crotias was aging, and his reign was coming to an end. Rumor had it that he would hand power over to his son, Sethor Crotias, very soon, and Sethor did not exhibit the same wisdom and familiarity with history that his father did.

  The Order kept the power of the Supreme Ministry in check, always advocating for the commonfolk and fighting against oppressive forces. A wise Minister like Caines worked with the Order to ensure harmony, but some nobility–like Sethor–despised the Order and saw compromise as weakness. Some nobility wanted to return to the pre-revolutionary past…

  “I worry about his son,” Morwen said. “The next in line. From all we can tell he will be–”

  “A disaster,” said Agatha, her voice growing grim. “And we desperately need to prepare.”

  “Have you got any leads?” Morwen said. “I’ve got the same small crew of Fighters at the grove. Pliny and Noel, and a Cleric named Yarel has joined us for a short time… but we need new recruits and I’m afraid we just can’t find any.” Morwen took a seat in a chair facing the hearth.

  “All of our Captains and Guardians are suffering the same problem,” said Agatha. “The rich and well-connected prefer to align themselves with the Supreme Ministry, which is no surprise.They don’t want to stick their necks out. And, thankfully, the less well-off have no need to take up arms. They have their basic needs met–”

  “Thanks to the work of our Order behind the scenes over the centuries,” said Morwen.

  “Yes,” said Agatha. “But as I said… memories are short, and Caines Crotias is the one who gets the public credit, as one would expect.”

  “So what should I do?” Morwen said. “Our Order is dying, and I fear that dark times are ahead. The people of this city, the laborers and the commonfolk, they’ll need us.”

  Agatha smiled gently, taking a seat. The embers glowed, illuminating her creased face. “You have such devotion to the people of this city,” she said. “That’s something I’ve always admired about you.”

  Morwen hummed softly in agreement. She did love the city, which made it all the more frustrating that she could see a potential disaster on the horizon and there was little she could do to prevent it.

  “You know, I have taken a few levels of Wizard in my time, and it has served me well,” Agatha said. “Not all Spellcasters are bad, you know.”

  “Yes,” Morwen said, “I know. I’ve got some Sorcerer myself. But where are you going with this?”

  “Well, I just wanted to tell you… you should never trust a {divination} spell. Not fully. It’s a murky measure of probabilities and it lacks precision.”

  Morwen sighed. She tried to see where Agatha was going with this line of thinking, but she was running out of patience. She didn’t want to discuss Wizard spells, she wanted solutions. She needed to find and train recruits. “With all due respect, your vigilance, I don’t see how–”

  “What I’m trying to say,” said Agatha, “is that I’ve been pondering the Order’s predicament, and I’ve been using every means at my disposal, including {divination} spells. And, well, you very well may have a new pupil soon.”

  Morwen closed her mouth, looking into the glowing embers.

  “How sure are you?” Morwen asked.

  “Based on my {divination} spells? I’m not entirely certain… but there’s something more to this. It’s not just the spellwork. I have had this gut feeling. The kind of feeling that has proven correct over the course of my life again and again…”

  Morwen knew that Agatha had a solid head on her shoulders, that she didn’t get swept away with wishful thinking. Still, {divination} spells were notoriously tricky, and even though Agatha had a few Wizard levels, the majority of her class ranks were in Fighter. Morwen couldn’t shake the feeling that the Vigilant Superior, the leader of the Order, had run out of options in the face of the dwindling organization’s powerlessness and was now finding some solace in an illusory hope that she labelled a “gut feeling.”

  “I can only hope you’re right,” Morwen said.