The second step was the weirdest one.

  The first step was just normal, every day walking, if you could call ‘stepping into an oily surface’ normal and everyday. But normal enough. Just: one foot on the metal gantry floor of the Earth lab, one foot pushing into the unknown, the hum of the portal chamber in your bones, blue-white light licking up the edges of your vision.

  The third step was fine too. A simple step out to the underground facility at Alpha Base with solid, polished concrete underfoot, a shift in temperature and the bright light of inset LEDs.

  But that second step…

  It existed in the in-between. Somewhere in a glitchy world where your brain whispers falling and floating at the same time. Where every sense alternated between static and ultra-calmness. A place where you had to convince your body that ‘yes, another step was necessary’. And yes, there probably was some sort of floor beneath him. And YES, you really should move. NOW.

  Alex looked at the portal, breathed deeply, and took the first step.

  For a heartbeat he was nowhere. Then, for another moment he wondered what would happen if he paused here. Just stopped and tried to feel the strangeness of this place. He lifted his foot. Or thought he did. He couldn’t actually see his foot. Couldn’t really see anything. The moment seemed to drag into eternity.

  He stepped again.

  And stepped out into the antiseptic tunnels of Alpha Base.

  The portal room wasn’t much to look at really, despite being the first inter-universal pedestrian station in history. But he looked up at the ceiling as he entered and thought about everything that was up there, just beyond the concrete ceiling.

  A whole new crazy world. A world that already felt more like home than anything he could ever remember.

  He staggered slightly, then caught himself as ‘space’ and his brain reoriented.

  The air on Earth had the scent of wet pavement and exhaust and too many people crammed into the same space. Sure you could leave the city and enjoy a fresher air in the shrinking wilderness areas, but Earth-3 was different. The air was cleaner, clearer. Even here in the tunnels where it was being pumped in and massaged into the right temperature. You could still smell the traces of pine and river and woodsmoke.

  Alex wanted to get out of the tunnels. Topside the village would be stretched out under a sky already mostly dark, with the last streaks of sun dying behind the jagged line of distant mountains. Torches would be burning along the inside of the palisade wall, throwing warm light over the cottages and buildings of the village.

  He inhaled again, deeper and glanced back at the portal as Mel stepped through.

  The Portal. It didn’t just connect two worlds and two universes. It connected Alex’s two lives.

  One side held 20 years of life and memories and abstract future goals: finish his degree, get a development job at some game company, maybe a family eventually.

  This side though, was completely different. Magic, adventure, exploration.

  He sighed. He hated making life changing decisions. For now he just wanted to head into the village, grab a beer with his team at the Silver Gate and pretend like this was just a weekend job.

  The rest of his team spilled out behind him. Everyone except Sarah, who lived on this side of the portal full time already. Soft pulses of portal light marking each arrival. Bags thumped, boots scuffed. Mel laughed too loudly. Danny complained about how the portal still made him want to puke.

  He smiled. It had only been one week with this crew, but it already felt like so much more. The familiar noise rolled over him and settled his nerves in a way the quiet of his university residence never quite managed.

  Valentina stood in the centre of the room, a slim silhouette in an immaculate blazer. There was no real reason for her to show up and greet them now that they knew the routine, but here she was, greeting everyone and asking how their week had gone. Alex couldn’t tell if she genuinely cared about them or if she was just here to make sure no one had second thoughts after being back in the ‘real world’ for a week.

  Either way, she listened to everyone’s stories from their week back with a focused expression and a bright smile. Alex figured she could have delegated all this. There were hundreds of employees in the village and lots of suits in her place would have. But she didn’t.

  Jay nudged him. “Don’t stare at the boss lady. That’s how you get extra laps assigned.”

  “She doesn’t run laps,” Alex said.

  “Yeah, but she knows people.”

  Jay jerked his chin toward the village. “Come on, man. Beer Two awaits. Two pubs, one day. Achievement unlocked.”

  That earned a small smile from Alex.

  “Second jump and you still look like a stunned raccoon,” Jay said, leaning in.

  Alex glanced at him. Jay’s grin was wide, eyes bright.

  “Wow. Stunned raccoon,” Alex said. “That’s an image.”

  Jay laughed. “Yeah, well, it just came out. We saw a couple of trash bandits in the dumpster behind the school on our way to catch the Dungeon Inc. bus earlier. C’mon. Tomwell’s waiting.”

  Jay clapped him on the shoulder and tramped ahead as everyone headed to the change rooms to switch into their Earth-3 approved training uniforms.

  After they got through security and up to the village proper, Alex fell in between Danny and Rae as they made a beeline for the Silver Gate tavern. He needed food and beer and everyone else looked like they were on the same page.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  In the distance the palisade wall was a dark shadow that wrapped around the village, broken up by the occasional torch stand on the walkway that ran around the top.

  Last week, Alex thought, the village had just been background noise. A blur of buildings between the trainee hut, the training grounds and the tavern. This time, with the press of the first-week shock gone, he found himself looking a little closer at the buildings as he walked.

  The portal room sat directly under the tavern, but they had walked through the tunnels to their trainee hut and exited there. Now, walking back through the village to the tavern they passed mostly cottages with tidy gardens and glowing with candle or lantern light.

  As they approached the village green, a large open area across from the Silver Gate, stood more commercial buildings, if you could call them that in a medieval town. On the left, they passed a squat, long building with a stone chimney exhaling the smell of charcoal. Sparks flashed occasionally on the other side of an open door, in time with the rhythm of a hammer on metal. Steady, unhurried. Still at work long after everyone else had called it quits for the day.

  Opposite that stood a narrower structure with tanned hides hanging under the eaves or tied to square stretchers in the side yard. A leathersmith, maybe? Or just a tanner. He caught the faint tang of oils and treated leather as they walked past and some chemical smell that turned his nose.

  Farther down, the main street widened into a rough market square. Stalls stood mostly empty at this hour, canvas flaps tied down, but he could still make out the empty baskets and barrels. He had passed through the previous weekend and had a quick look at the market, but he hadn’t really had the time to browse yet. Tomorrow, maybe.

  Not a set, he thought. Despite what he had tried to convince his friends this week, this was a living, breathing medieval village. It was just powered by modern tech under the surface.

  They passed a few people on their way, villagers mostly: The families of people who worked for Dungeons Inc.. They had all chosen to be here. Chosen to install the ANIP.

  He saw one carrying a basket of folded clothes under one arm, probably on the way back from the laundromat in the tunnels. On another street, two kids darted past with homemade wooden swords giggling and talking about dinner. On another street an older man strolled by with a walking stick and a bundle of herbs slung over one shoulder. Alex wondered if he was staff, or somebody's father that they cared for.

  They, and all the other people who were tucked behind their doors at this hour, made this place feel real. He liked that.

  “Man, I missed this place,” Jay said, stretching his arms overhead. “Is that weird? Is that, like, some kind of trans-dimensional Stockholm?”

  “Statistically,” Danny said, “most people who get portal-napped don’t get paid in silver coins and healthcare, so I’m pretty sure it doesn’t qualify.”

  “You get any sleep this week?” Alex asked, smiling. Danny was possibly even more out of shape than Alex and training had hit them both hard the first weekend.

  Danny walked along, hands in his jacket pockets, hood up against the chill. He looked less exhausted than last weekend. He shrugged his shoulders. “Some. Enough. My roommates think I joined a cult. So there’s that.”

  “Technically not wrong,” Jay said cheerfully. “It’s just a cross-dimensional HR-cult.”

  Alex snorted.

  Jay’s grin widened as a familiar sign came into view ahead: a wooden board hanging from an iron bracket, carved with two crescent moons facing each other.

  Warm light spilled from the open door, along with the sound of laughter, clink of mugs, and the voices of half the adults in the village. Fiddle music started up as they approached and the smell of bread and BBQ, or whatever method they used to cook their meat here, washed over them as they stepped inside.

  They stepped inside and the tavern swallowed them.

  Inside, the Silver Gate was about the same size as the campus bar they’d been in five hours ago. That was to say, big. Easily 100 feet per side. But the similarity ended there. The Outpost was all chrome rails, polished floors and mood lighting. Whereas the Silver Gate had thick beams, scarred tables, dark wooden floors and walls lined with old bottles, hunting trophies, weapons and very detailed paintings of dungeon monsters. Alex wondered who the artist was.

  One half of the giant room was set up like a country diner, serving stew and beer all day long. The other half was busier at night and catered more to the evening drinkers. A giant, long, two-sided fireplace ran down the center of the room, dividing the halves. Across the back of the room ran a balcony that opened up into a hall leading to the four floors of inn rooms.

  Jay made an appreciative sound. “Okay, I lied. I missed this place while I was back studying in my tiny little res room.”

  “Your res room probably smells like old socks and muscle cream,” Rae said. “Low bar.”

  “Still a bar,” Jay countered. “Speaking of bars…”

  Jay, Danny and Alex approached the long polished bar that ran almost the length of the room. Mel and Rae saw Sarah chatting with a few of the locals, waved and went to join her.

  “Evening lads.” Tomwell’s voice cut through the noise, smoother than the lacquered wooden countertop. The bartender stood behind the long bar, polishing a mug with a cloth. He was broad, solid and stolid. All forearms and patience, with a well trimmed beard that was still fulsome enough to hide a small bird.

  “You survived your first week back, then,” he added. “Congratulations. I assume it was terrible.”

  Jay slapped both hands on the bar. “Campus food tried to kill me. And school sucks. I for one am happy to be back. Ale, please.”

  Alex snorted. “Two pubs in one day. You’re either celebrating or compensating. Or this is frosh week and we’re on a crawl maybe?”

  “Little of column A, little of column B,” Jay said laughing.

  ***

  I spent years chasing parts in Los Angeles. All for a few lines here, a guest spot there. Years chasing that big part that never came. Living that west coast dream.

  Until Dungeon Inc. came along. Tomwell, the proprietor of the Silver Gate Inn and Tavern, is the best acting job I could ever have asked for. The fact that it is so easy is just icing on the cake. There are no marks to hit. No script supervisor telling me to reset. No sitting around waiting for lighting technicians.

  The trick here is that after a while, you forget you’re acting at all. I have an inn to run. It’s a real job. Then, at night I just show up, pour drinks, chat and listen. Responsibilities include: making sure the pantry is stocked and the stew is on... then its just a matter of remembering which regular prefers ale and which prefer wine or spirits. And I’m more famous now than I ever was back on Earth. Apparently I just had to leave the planet!

  Sure, you worry when a kid doesn’t come back through the gate on time, but you also make a whole lot of close friends with all the other folks that have moved here from Earth. You just… build a life you know? That's the job too. I still have to consider my role occasionally, but it’s not easy to see where the line starts and where it ends any more.

  My wife and I live in the large cottage out back of the inn with our girls. They’ve been here since the beginning and now they walk these streets like they belong here—because they do. The village treats them with respect, not because of the show, but because this place is real and we have a central role in how it runs. They are the innkeepers daughters.

  Every now and then I go back to Earth and someone tells me how much they love “my character.” They thank me for the laughs. For the comfort. I just smile and sign whatever they put in front of me because I don’t know how to explain that actor they love isn't really an actor anymore. He's just living his best life... and they get to watch.

  I take this job seriously of course. The spotlight isn’t mine—it belongs to the adventurers. They fight for it and they bleed for it. All I do is make sure there’s a drink and a warm meal, a steady voice, and a place that feels like home when they come back.

  If that’s acting, then I finally learned how to do it right.

  Personal Journal Entry

  Tomwell “Tom” Gleek; Proprietor of the Silver Gate Inn

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