I made some sort of muffled reply. The world was starting to go dark in a way that felt like I was losing consciousness more than just a large dead elk blocking out the light.

  I felt the carcass move and immediately started to breathe again. Twin pinpricks of light slowly grew until my vision returned. Everything hurt, but I could see and think clearly again.

  The man offered me a healing potion and an odd smile. “I am Kaelen, a mapmaker by trade.” He introduced himself.

  Grabbing the small bottle I downed most of the potion then I remembered Dekka. I sat up, twisting around to see where I had seen her fall. Her small form was exactly where she had landed, lying on her side. Was she breathing? I crawled over to her and poured the remaining potion in her mouth. She was tiny, so I hoped this world would work.

  The potion tasted just as good as the last one, but stronger. It also seemed to heal me more than the last one. A better quality potion? I was still injured, but I had no gaping holes, and I felt like I would get up and walk.

  I sat there with Dekka limp across my lap. Tears were starting to threaten, but then she made a little jerk and cough. As soon as life returned to her body, she looked up and immediately focused on the dead elk. She watched it for a moment, then, deciding it was dead her body relaxed and she looked up at me.

  Then the tears did fall, hot against my cheeks. I brushed them away, my hand came away filthy with dirt and blood, now smeared by my tears. I wanted to hug her to me, but I didn’t know how much she still hurt. She clearly was sore as she hadn’t hopped off my lap to go check out the new person. She just lay there, happy to be safe.

  The man was standing on the road, eyes scanning me, then on Dekka. His polite smile faltered for just a fraction of a second. It was so brief I might have imagined it, but a chill went down my spine. His gaze wasn’t one of curiosity or surprise. It was one of… recognition. And not the good kind.

  He recovered quickly, nodding at me respectfully before turning his attention to putting the bottle away in his pack.

  “I am on my way to the Lord’s manor. I assume you as well, being on this road?”

  “Um, yes,” I said, gently cradling my dog and getting to my feet. Had he watched the whole fight and not done anything to help? Or had he literally come up at the very end just in time to give me a potion? I carefully put my pack on and looked at the bits of my club. That wasn’t going to be much use. I would have to hope I could buy one in the next town.

  He made pleasant conversation, complimenting my fighting ability. He claimed to have come up the road just as I was finishing the elk off. But I noticed his eyes kept drifting back to the dog in my arms, sharp and assessing.

  The man was a travelling map salesman. I asked him a bit about how that worked. I would have thought cartography would be a separate field. Seems he would go and peddle his talents to various lords in the area. And I got the feeling he would change the apparent size of a noble’s holding for a bit of extra gold. Even change some boundaries if the price is right.

  Finally, he broached the subject, “A curious creature you have there. I have travelled far and wide, from the northern glaciers to the southern wasteland, and I have never seen its like. From what land does it hail?”

  The question was innocent enough, but there was an intensity behind it.

  “They are very rare,” I repeated the line I had used before, my standard answer. “From my homeland, far from here.”

  “I see,” he said softly. He walked closer and leaned in to look at her more closely. Dekka stared back, unblinking. “Only two eyes, yet it has the eyes of a hunter. Seems a most unnatural creature. Tell me, does it… Obey you? Truly?”

  The question was pointed. It felt like a test.

  I wanted to say ‘she’s a terrier, the obey no one but their own capricious desires.' But I said, “She’s my friend, my companion. We look out for each other.”

  Kaelen looked from Dekka to me, and his expression was unreadable. He gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “The world is full of strange and wonderful things, is it not? It pays to know what paths they walk.”

  Well, if that wasn’t the most cryptic statement. I wondered if I was supposed to ask him what he meant. But I didn’t like him, so I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. I just nodded as if he had said something meaningful or profound, and we continued on in silence.

  After a while, Dekka wanted to be put down. And I was grateful as my arms were getting really tired. Though not as tired as they would have in my real body. Back in the real world, if I had been this injured, I don’t know if I would be walking this far, let alone carrying a small but surprisingly dense dog.

  The road began to change from packed earth to neatly laid cobblestones, a clear sign of claimed and controlled territory. Dekka, now walking on her own, limped almost imperceptibly, her body held stiffly. She had recovered from the potion, but she was still deeply bruised. She pressed close to my leg, her gaze fixed on the man who walked beside me, her distrust a palpable thing. The dense, rocky forest gave way to cleared land, not for crops, but for sightlines. Watchtowers of sturdy, dark timber stood at intervals, each manned by a single guard who tracked our progress with silent, impersonal interest.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Then, we rounded a final bend, and Seabrooke, or more accurately, the seat of Lord Ashford's power, came into view.

  My breath caught, not because it was beautiful, though it was, in that overly elaborate, someone-else-paid-for-this kind of way, but because I hadn’t expected an entire little town around it.

  "Fortified" was the first word that came to mind. "Walled" was the second. It wasn't a true castle with towering keeps and crenellated battlements, but it was far more than an estate. A high, sharp-angled stone wall, at least fifteen feet tall, encircled the entire compound. It looked new, the grey stone clean and the mortar joints precise. Over the top of the wall, I could see the steep, slate-shingled roofs of multiple large buildings and dozens of chimneys puffing organized plumes of smoke into the air. It was a self-contained town, sealed off from the world.

  As we approached the main gate, I saw the guards. They wore tabards of the same deep blue as the Bailiff's cloth, embroidered with a silver lion's head. They were armed with spears and shortswords, and their posture was rigid, almost unnaturally still.

  One of the guards, a man with a scarred face and cold eyes, watched our approach. His gaze flicked to Kaelen, and he gave a short, curt nod.

  "Master Kaelen," the guard said. His voice was flat, devoid of warmth or deference. "Business with the steward?"

  The map maker merely nodded and was let through.

  "Name and business at the manor?" he demanded, his voice a low rumble. His gaze swept over me, taking in my battered, bloodstained clothes, the absence of a proper weapon, and the small, dirty dog at my heels. His expression didn't change, but I felt assessed and found wanting.

  I braced for the alarm, the "monster" accusations, the hands on sword hilts.

  Nothing.

  The guard’s eyes cataloged her—the strange fur, the two eyes, the way she held herself—with a chilling, clinical detachment. He then looked back at my face, awaiting my answer.

  "Elizabeth," I said, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. I straightened my shoulders, ignoring the ache in my ribs. "I'm here at the request of Bailiff Cromstead."

  The guard's eyes flickered with a hint of recognition at the Bailiff's name, though it didn't make him any friendlier. He gave a short, sharp nod. "The Bailiff is in the east courtyard. You'll find the steward inside the main hall. He'll see to you." He looked back at Kaelen. "Your appointment is with the Lord's seneschal. The main hall as well. You may proceed."

  Passing through the gate was like stepping into a different world. The air within the walls hummed with disciplined activity, a stark contrast to the chaotic joy of Scott's Hill's festival. To the left, the rhythmic clang of a hammer on steel came from an open-fronted smithy, where a burly man worked on a spearhead. Straight ahead, a squad of men drilled with practice swords in a dusty yard, their movements crisp and synchronized under the barked orders of a drill sergeant. To the right, servants hurried along pathways with baskets of laundry or trays of goods, their eyes downcast.

  It was efficient. It was cold. Every person had a place and a purpose, all orbiting the large, dark-manored house at the center.

  Kaelen peeled off with a bow. “I trust you’ll find your way. I must report to the steward.

  "Thank you for the potion," I said, my voice flat. I was feeling very out of my element here.

  "Think nothing of it, miss. A mapmaker is always happy to aid a fellow traveller." His eyes flicked to Dekka one last time, sharp and assessing. "I do hope your meeting is... fruitful."

  Dekka padded beside me, her nose twitching at the overwhelming number of smells. She’d recovered enough to trot with her usual bounce, though I noticed her sticking closer to my side than usual.

  Wandering around vaguely in what I hoped was the correct direction, I was intercepted by a boy of about ten. He was wearing an outfit made of fine cloth that was tailored perfectly to him, but it gave off the air of being a uniform. His manner was also that of a servant. Polite and deferential.

  “Are you Lady Elizabeth?” He inquired after a slight bow.

  I pondered that a moment. I was Elizabeth, but lady? I must look a terrible mess. But why not? I nodded.

  “Please follow me,” He said and headed with purpose towards a tall building that rose up beside one of the walls. Actually, the wall was part of the building.

  I think he was what was called a pageboy. Not a commoner but a noble in training. This place was all business and bustle. Looking around, I didn’t see anyone taking their leisure or any children playing. Poor kid. Well, he was an NPC. But still. Children should play, and adult NPCs should at least be programmed with fond memories of childhood fun.

  I had to sign in with a scribe when I entered.

  “Name?”

  This again. Wasn’t I expected? Seems even the game realm couldn’t escape the ubiquity of bureaucracy. “Elizabeth.”

  “Affiliation?”

  “Uh. Independent? Solo adventurer?” I wasn’t sure what box I was supposed to check.

  He scribbled something in a ledger. “Reason for visit?”

  I hesitated. “I’m here about a permit issue related to a local event near Scott’s Hill. I was told I need to come see the Bailiff.”

  That earned me a sharper look. “Ah. The mole matter.”

  He said it like one might say “the dung incident” or “the pig infestation.”

  “Um. Maybe that.”

  “Wait here.” He said to both me and the page.

  He vanished through a side door, and I took the opportunity to scan the space. There were benches for waiting, most empty, and a few informational notices pinned to a board. One caught my eye:

  Notice to Visitors:

  Unauthorized magical beasts, enchanted artifacts, or unusual mounts must be declared upon entry.

  Failure to comply will result in fines, detention, confiscation, or—where appropriate—destruction of property and/or execution.

  I instinctively stepped in front of Dekka, who had started sniffing the wall.

  “Don’t touch anything,” I whispered.

  She looked up at me as if I were stupid.

  Rules were not going to start applying to her now.

  Much to her annoyance, I picked her up again. I wasn’t sure if I could be separated from something called a ‘soul forged companion,’ but I didn’t want to find out.