The platypus person eagerly drew Ridley over to sit down with him, getting behind her to push her along faster. He stood four feet tall, which was kind of nice for Ridley. He had adorable little hands and a face like a fuzzy otter but with a duck bill where the mouth was supposed to be. He wore a bright red vest like something straight out of the Victorian era.

  The bartender, in contrast, had a thick curly mustache, bushy eyebrows, and a clean sidepart. He stood there looking bored with an apron and necktie.

  The room itself was massive. It looked like it could seat several hundred and, for some reason, felt like it was carved from a single piece of wood. The counter, shelves, and walls didn’t have a single seam. The only noise was the echo of the platypus’s ramblings.

  “So I said to myself there isn’t a zero percent probability of someone finding the junction early, and I’m not doing anything important for the next few years, so I came to wait and see while I write and work on my theories…”

  “Wait, back up, please. You’re talking a lot, and you jumped to the middle,” Ridley said.

  “A common occurrence in my experience,” the bartender mused aloud.

  “Can I get a menu?” Ridley said pleadingly, showing the hunger on her face.

  “No menu. Just think about what sounds good,” the bartender informed her.

  Ridley thought about it, and a few things passed through her head.

  “That will be pickle chips, a Philly cheesesteak, and one coconut milk tea with boba,” the bartender repeated her thoughts.

  “Wow! You must be really good with the ladies!”

  “Only when they can’t remember the name of the drinks they want me to mix.”

  Ridley sent another thought.

  “No whiskey for minors, and you’d hate the taste of it anyway,” he said, walking through his back door into what she guessed was a kitchen.

  In the corner of her eye, Ridley could see the platypus fidgeting like a chihuahua.

  “Ok, let’s start with names. Hi, I’m Ridley,” she said, reaching out her hand.

  “And I am Daryl,” he responded, shaking Ridley’s hand aggressively. “I am honored to be the first to make contact with a creature from the new initiates. I welcome you and would like to…”

  “Wait. Wait one second. Let me ask you this first. Where are we?”

  Daryl’s speech habits were like a ball rolling downhill; he started at a normal pace but would quickly build speed.

  “We are at the Arcane Junction. There is one for every planet, but you wouldn’t know about them yet, and nobody bothers to come because it’s so early. Normally you would have to wait at least a half a year just to meet someone. But I, Daryl, am smart. I have calculated! I have found the mysteries!”

  “Daryl, settle down. Why does a place like this exist?”

  As Ridley asked the question, the bartender returned with the best-smelling pickle chips she’d laid her nose on. As he put the food down, he decided he would answer for the platypus.

  “Typically, this space is a prefabricated magical way station for people to wait for authorization to enter your world.”

  Ridley groaned with delight when she took a bite of the Philly cheesesteak.

  “Yes, yes. But that will not happen for years. So people come sooner to start trade, as your people will not know what they hold but will start finding ways to the junction. But that takes many months, MONTHS! I am here at 3 weeks. I did the calculations!” He stood on his chair and pointed an accusing finger at Ridley. “Your world is weird, strange! I knew it! And I am smart! So I am here!” he said, pointing at the ground.

  Wrapping up his outburst, he crossed his arms and dropped back into his seat on his beaver tail with a whoomph.

  Ridley ate another pickle chip before offering one to Daryl.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “These do smell quite good,” Daryl said, taking the proffered chip.

  “So, we don’t know what kind of treasures we have. Like magic rings?” she said, holding up her hand to show off the fairy ring. “Or are you talking about these things?” Ridley grabbed the bag of crystals from her half of the loot and plopped it on the counter—the top opening to spill out crystals of several varieties.

  Daryl gasped, and the bartender’s mustache twitched.

  “Daryl is a genius,” the platypus whispered as he picked up a stone.

  Ridley picked up a stone and spun it in her hand.

  “Well, help Ridley be a genius. What are these?”

  “They are the crystallized foundations of all creation! You have enough in this bag to make a mansion! What, who, how—what level are you?”

  “I’m level 5, almost 6.”

  “SO WEAK!” Daryl screamed.

  “Ouch,” Ridley deadpanned.

  Daryl ran to a large board sitting on a table and started mumbling to himself as he drew.

  “Daryl is genius, yes, but not enough genius to see the cause of this amalgam here and here. The variables need more data from the tangential arrangements surrounding…”

  “He will be back in a few minutes,” the bartender told her.

  “So is this a space station or something?”

  “No, this is a junction. It is in a fourth dimension abutting your planet.”

  “Ha, a butt.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Nothing. So hey, I haven’t asked your name yet.”

  “Podry. A pleasure,” he said, bowing slightly. “Generally, the bartender assigned to these junctions is the closest genetic representation of the dominant species of the planet. So I am as close to your kind as exists in the universe.”

  “Well, Podry, do you have a place to sleep here?” she asked as she put her bag of expensive magic treasure away.

  “We have rooms for rent. They are all available save the one.”

  “How long has Daryl been here?”

  “Two weeks. And I have to work the bar as long as a guest is in the dining room.”

  “Yikes, that must make for some interesting conversation.”

  “Oh, his theories are actually fascinating. He predicted that your planet’s initiation was unique, but I wasn’t expecting one so low-level to find the Arcane Junction so early, much less one too young to drink at my bar.” He chuckled.

  “So if you are all ‘aliens,’ how are we having this conversation? I’m not so American as to believe English is a universal language.”

  “Translation enchantments are built into the magical frame of the junction. Should someone step outside, they will need to have their own translation abilities available. Those can be expensive if you have to buy one. Most of the people that try to trade will have a translation ability or enchanted item for the same purpose.”

  “rrrrrrRRRRRAAAAAAAAaaaahhhhhh!” Daryl screamed, lifting his board above his head and staring at it.

  “That’s normal,” Podry shared before Ridley could ask.

  “So more generally, what is going on in my world?”

  “Oh? Want the big system secret first? Tired of all the secrets already?” Podry said with a knowing gleam in his eye.

  Ridley just waved her hand to continue.

  “I can’t tell you much, as there is a quarantine on some information and I will be sanctioned if I break it, potentially losing my job. I can say this: Those that oversee the system have spent years training a World Administrator. Their first job is to choose champions of their world and train them to be great heroes.

  “Eventually those planets integrate and join the great contest, growing and shrinking as their abilities thrive or wane. Skirmishes begin on opposing planets, allowed in part by the planet administrator. The great contest is an ongoing, ever-evolving process that keeps all-out war at bay and planets strong to handle their own challenges…” Podry notably paused and looked at Ridley. “That is what educators would tell my children growing up, at least.”

  Daryl screamed again before his body slumped and his voice cut off. He waddled back to his chair and sat as Ridley started on her boba tea. Pulling out a piece of paper, he pointed as he vented.

  “Daryl is not a genius today. He can’t find the cause without getting more information. Daryl needs to be on your surface to get more readings!”

  “Ok, well, let me get a good night’s sleep and I’ll be your guide,” Ridley offered, excited to parade around a platypus friend.

  “Daryl told you years! It takes years for integration. Look, come with Daryl.” He waddled to the doorway. “Open your door,” Daryl pointed.

  Ridley pushed the door open, revealing the mostly empty night parking lot.

  Looking at the bleak urban cityscape, Daryl couldn’t help but comment, “Daryl doesn’t want to be rude, but that is the ugliest planet Daryl has ever seen.”

  “It’s not great, is it?” Ridley shrugged.

  “You can now step into your world. Whereas Daryl…” Daryl stuck out his hand and leaned to show Ridley the barrier that blocked him from entry to Earth. To Daryl’s surprise, he promptly fell through the doorway and rolled onto his back.

  “Are you ok?” Ridley asked, chuckling.

  “Muckchee! Deyla ma muckchee!” Daryl started dancing nervously before turning back to Ridley.

  “What? I don’t understand you anymore.”

  Daryl promptly ran back in the door.

  “Daryl doesn’t want to be crass. A genius, but never crass… but, um, Ridley… hmm. Your planet is in deep shit.”

  As he said it, a prompt popped up for Ridley.

  ^

  You are invited to a global event!

  Denizens of another plane are attempting to seize control of a local territory!

  Objective: Stop the army from claiming territory.

  Your Location: Congo Distribution Center - Mekland, OK

  Time until attack: 24 hours

  Quest rewards:

  -Crystalized Essence of Choice

  -2500 xp

  -50 silver

  -Mystery Box (uncommon)

  “Uh oh. I don’t think the boss is gonna like this…”