One of the first days, when summer finally took command and relegated his sibling spring to a mere memory, Ioha found himself staring with his mouth full of food.

  “A e ell. A a u oin ere?”

  Miri smiled at him. “Chew and swallow. I’m in no hurry.”

  He had done something like this before, hadn’t he? Ah, yes. It was Ai who scolded him that time. Thinking of her still tore raw wounds inside him. He swallowed and pushed his personal misery to the side.

  “Miri, what are you doing here?”

  “Mum, a friend from school. Break OK?”

  The sound of pots and pans reached him from the inside of a door. “Until we have guests, sure,” a voice called from the same door opening.

  The meal was simple but filling and good. A few weeks earlier he found this restaurant, six tables and a counter, that tugged at both his purse and palate even before the agreeable surprise.

  “So this was the place you talked about?”

  She sat down on the edge of a chair with eyes continuously throwing glances at the entrance. “Yes. Mum’s place. Always more people here during summer, so I’m working here during the break.” Her eyes darted to the door again, but it was a false alarm. “Even during daytime. Strange, isn’t it?”

  An outworlder couple in the corner sat nursing a mug of chilled white wine each. Miri’s mother was a weak caster, but a caster still. Her speciality, controlling temperature, as Ioha found out during his visits here. No matter the weather, the inside was always a comfortable twenty degrees.

  Both outworlders wore the kind of faux fantasy medieval style rental clothes only tourists would ever accept to put on outside a masquerade.

  Four tables free, but Ioha suspected the afternoon rush was about to start. Strange? How so? Early holidays should see more people in Isekai. He mulled over that thought for a while. Early holidays in Sweden. No idiot spent their time idling during the warm months this side of the gate. “It’s different in outworld. You have more outworlder guests now, right?”

  Miri nodded. “How did you… ah, you’re one yourself. Stupid me!” When the bell rang next, it was not a false alarm, and three people entered. “See you, Ioha,” Miri said and left the chair.

  Ioha pulled it back to the table. Explaining post-industrial economies to Miri was a waste of time. She had a home to come back to and a temp job she seemed to like, and the school offered her a possible future different from her origins. Why should he cast a shadow on her life? Because he wanted news of his friends and Ai. Because being expelled from school hurt his pride more than he thought. Because he felt alone. But reasons weren’t reasons enough to act out his petty irritation.

  He gritted his teeth and dropped a few coins onto an earthenware plate. Someone found a large deposit of clay that must have been special in one way or another, and now pottery was the new big thing in Isekai. On his way out, he met another outworlder couple. Tourists walked differently, and most wore rented clothes. The restaurant would fill in no time at all. He could return on a later day and satisfy his need for time with friends.

  This time he’d done his homework. A short trip to Gothenburg, when he met his parents and told them he planned to take up residency in Isekai permanently. Then a week with sixteen-hour workdays, after which he delivered a hefty document on production opportunities in Isekai to a few contacts of his parents, whom he met before he left Gothenburg the first time. The delivery included his promise to report sporadically to their office in Isekai, and gave him a rather absurd amount of money upfront and a low but semiregular salary Isekai side for Isjase, a company that was much larger than it seemed. Lastly, he contacted Mr Nakagawa and informed him about what had happened. Ioha hoped he’d meet Ai there, but no such luck. That meeting resulted in another semiregular employment Isekai side.

  Ioha sold the rest of his stocks but left his bank accounts intact. A few thousand euro in case he really crashed and burned was enough to set him up for a month or two if he had to return.

  He returned to the gate, was thoroughly slapped in his face, and cashed out coins that would have made Ai mutter with approval. Back in Isekai he bought a piece of land an hour along the road to Halfpoint for almost nothing, hired construction workers, shopped for building materials, and set up a half-and-half contract with an elderly man originally from the Japanese countryside, who wanted to give running a ryokan a last chance. He didn’t have a large aura, but he had contracted a salamander god and could create fire and heat for a stupidly low aura cost. A ryokan needed its hot spring bath, even if it was a fake. Back in Gothenburg, an associate sold a genuine Japanese countryside experience in fantasy land. At a steep price.

  Satisfied with the promise of a steady income, Ioha returned to Isekai, got hungry, had a filling meal, met his old party member from school, and continued on his way to his final work destination for the day.

  If its counterpart in Schooltown was vulgar, it was still a modest and toned-down version of its parent in Isekai. This was the original, the crème de la crème of an anachronistic, misguided misconception of how the economy surrounding free companies worked in Earth’s Europe – and yet, it still worked.

  And I thought it looked cool the first time I saw it. Ai probably still did. On his way here, he passed the original building close to the central square. It quickly got too small and now served as an adventurers guild museum.

  When the inhabitants of Isekai decided to build this monstrosity instead, a majority realised that a small army of Loony the Great Witch, Moron Musclebrain, Rabid Slicer, and High Priest Holier Than Thou walking up and down the streets of the town was a disaster waiting to happen. In the end, they decided to build the new adventurers guild headquarters at the outskirts of town. Nowadays, it covered several walled-off blocks in the southwestern section of central Isekai, with the main merchant area even further south and west before the current outskirts began, and even those were slowly gobbled up into the town proper.

  Ioha walked up to the main building after he entered through the outer gates. Ahead of him stood a four-story architectural accident in sandstone and red brick. It made the Spellsword Academy administrative building look positively quaint. Wooden gates, more suitable for a cathedral, motioned visitors to step inside, where they were met by a masterpiece of inefficiency. Here someone had decided that the reception hall of armed men and women needed a ceiling the full four stories above them. It was all very imposing and guaranteed that almost a third of the building could actually house something useful.

  He lumbered to one of several reception desks and met the eyes of a young woman with an aptitude sphere by her side. Behind the desks, heavily armoured guards made certain no one got any funny ideas in the reception hall. That had happened before they gave up on the power of sunshine and friendship attitude and replaced it with a far more realistic ‘you try, you die’ -approach.

  “Ioha Questingtank, Swedish citizen. I’d like to register,” he announced.

  Two lifted eyebrows suggested they didn’t have that many knighted outworlders here. “F-rank or full registration?” she asked.

  “Full registration.” F-rank was for tourists and other temporary residents, who wanted to play adventurers for a while.

  “Please put your hand on the sphere and set your display to public.”

  Ioha adjusted his display to hide his sainthood status and the associated divine abilities, the only part of it he could manipulate that way, and then he set it up for public viewing. Behind him, the light dimmed. Shields came in different forms, but he recognised one when he saw it. The receptionist knew how to cast shields, but she might not even be aware of it, since she used it as a privacy screen. His right hand went to the sphere. As always, it was cool to his touch.

  In front of him, the receptionist looked at her monitor, or what had to be her monitor. Her eyes moved while she stared at something invisible. “Do you want to register as support or close-range combatant?”

  Support? Maybe his shields counted as a support category. He couldn’t afford a support role anyway. Heimdall wanted him to gain power, and the fastest way to do that was to be in the thick of it all. “Close range combatant.”

  “Heavy armour or light?”

  “Heavy armour.”

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  “Thank you. If you wait a moment, I’ll have a provisional E-rank badge made. Five silver in processing cost.”

  It was expensive, but he needed the experience. “Provisional?”

  “Yes, rank tests at the end of June. Your permanent badge is included in the cost. After that, ten silvers a year for the E-rank badge. Rank assessment same day, or the day after the test.”

  Ah, almost forgot, we use our old months in Isekai. “Understood. Any limitations until then?” But not proper currency. They just about copied the Wergaist coinage but kept naming the coins after the metal used. Wergaist had a proper currency. Each coin corresponded to an obsolete measurement of wheat. These days they had degenerated to calling them coppers, silvers and golds as well. The wonders of globalisation.

  She flashed him a professional smile. “Normally, yes, but since you’re knighted, they’re voided. Please observe that we won’t accept anyone advancing from E-rank for the first year. It’s for your own security, Sir Questingtank.” Her next smile was more genuine. “Those were some impressive stats.”

  “Understood. Thank you!” He waited by the desk with his chin in his hands while she processed his badge. The receptionist returned with it a few minutes later.

  “I wish you the best of luck. New member missions on the east wall. I recommend the E-rank section. Please avoid participating in C-rank or higher-rated missions.”

  He already had, but that time they had a numerical advantage, and they still almost got overwhelmed. The advice wasn’t to screw him over. People died on missions. Ioha turned to leave but recalled something she had said. “You said something about assessment. That’s not the test?”

  “No, the assessment is for us. It’s your technical rank and may differ from your official one.”

  “Ah, I see.” He didn’t. “Thank you very much.”

  With his badge inside his purse, he walked over to the billboards. The E-rank sections were mostly hunting and collection missions, apart from numerous armed escorts. Worst case, he’d start here. When he sauntered over to the D-rank section, he found what he was looking for. Each city with an adventurers guild in it had domain missions, usually in the E and D -rank sections. Escort an official, patrol the streets, man the walls, or even join a local war. State mercenaries, in short. Isekai looked for a militia to beef up the troops stationed in the border zone to the north.

  “You really doing that now?” The voice came from behind his back.

  “Doing what?”

  “Zone.” A brunette in her thirties in a sensible mail coat worn over an aketon. She must have arrived straight from the field to still wear something that warm in summer. Her face showed signs of someone who spent a lot of time outdoors, and thin lines from a few scars said all that time hadn’t been peaceful.

  “Yes. I heard they’re looking for people to patrol the periphery.”

  She gave him a long stare. “I don’t like your eyes.”

  “Huh?”

  “They’re lost. Like you’re looking for someone to pay for your funeral.”

  Is she nuts? “Look, I’m not planning suicide, if that’s what you thought.”

  The woman never let up her stare. “I know. You would have paid for it yourself if you did.” She lowered her voice a little, as if trying to avoid attracting unwanted attention.

  “What do you…”

  “You’re careless, as if nothing matters. Kiddo, I just saw you getting your provisional. Strength isn’t just about muscles. Do yourself and your party a favour and stick to the E-ranks until you gain more experience.”

  He didn’t get angry. It was good advice, even if it could have been better delivered. A hot-blooded and inexperienced youngster would endanger the party. “Thank you for sound advice. Already been there, though.”

  “You?”

  “Summer break now. Was thinking of getting more experience before next semester.” It was almost true. Barring his expulsion, he would have been on summer break now.

  She gave him a confused look before her eyes lit up. “Spellsword Academy?”

  He nodded.

  “What year?”

  “Freshman.”

  “You were there this spring?”

  Ioha suspected rumours had got out. “Yeah. It was pretty bad.”

  She gave him an appraising stare. “Name?”

  That, Ioha decided, was an opening. He returned her stare. “Ioha Questingtank.” This was Isekai, and she had every right to suspect him of lying, but opening his display would prove his claim of knighthood.

  “You were knighted?”

  Hmm, no, no lying now. “Divine knighthood. Before the exams.” Should he brag a little? “I was front line, but the fourth years did most of the hard work.” Something in between had to do. Bragging a little, but make it clear he wasn’t the hero.

  Now the look he received turned into one of calculating interest. “Look, kiddo, I could use some muscle for patrol. OK with trailing?”

  He mused over the offer. Trailing meant he’d get less experience, but on the other hand he’d join a unit with at least a dozen members. He bit his lower lip and considered the offer.

  “We train daily. You're good enough, I’ll allow you to join the primary.”

  “Pay?”

  “Ten silver a month. Twenty if you join the primary.”

  “Free food?”

  “Yes, but your own gear. No drinks apart from water.”

  The pay was atrocious, but he wanted the experience, and he had money enough. “Deal.”

  It was far from a finished deal. She needed him for the entire summer and probably wanted him for longer, but he had said summer break. He, in turn, needed to return to Isekai once every month and the first time in just a few weeks, for the rank test. Who paid for consumables, which in this case wasn’t a problem, since he knew no archery and didn’t feel the need for aura-regenerating devices. Rather, that he hardly even knew those existed, but he didn’t want to come out as an ignorant dunce and said nothing on the matter. Soap? That was a problem. Should he tell her he was a walking laundromat? And so it continued. In the end, they agreed that he could spend a week away every month, provided the company didn’t pay for anything he needed to replace.

  The last part meant some serious distance running, but by now Ioha felt secure in his ability to outpace a carriage by a wide margin over longer stretches.

  They agreed to meet at the caravanserai south of the merchants' quarters the next morning. Ioha tried not to show his shock at the existence of an addition to the trading infrastructure that hadn’t existed half a year earlier.

  He left the headquarters building and walked through the compound. There should be a secondary gate exiting into the merchant area. These days, the adventurers guild headquarters was a lot more than the idiotic building he just left. Low-rise living quarters, shops for the militarily inclined, cheap eateries, bars, training grounds, company offices, a hospital, an infirmary, an inn, stables, a school, and even a preschool created what effectively was a town inside the town. It was all strangely clean, and a lot of it screamed of Earth influences. Most of it looked more like a part of urban Japan than anything else. Materials were different, but the look and feel of the place was plausible in Japan but impossible in Sweden. He recognised the smells and sounds of weapons and armour and the people using them. Different from Spellsword Academy, though, was the smell of food. This was something he might consider paying a few coins for. More than Isekai itself, it showed how people from Japan made a life for themselves here for well over a decade before the gates to Gothenburg opened.

  Outside the armed microcosm, a different world opened. More opulent, with wide, paved streets, large stone buildings, and vehicles all around him. This was the economic engine of Isekai, where fortunes were made and lost. The air felt fresher but also more sterile. Gone were the busy eateries, and the people here were all going somewhere, rather than just loitering and living.

  It was also, Ioha knew, where the mass murderer Yoshida Akira was busy losing a war he didn’t even know he was fighting. Ioha’s associates were part of the winning army, as were Ai’s connections and anyone else hell-bent on creating a nation here. The nail in the coffin, a well-paid professional force under the direct jurisdiction of a trination tribunal with eleven members, five from Isekai, and three each from Sweden and Japan. Each stakeholder assigned whomever they preferred, but only if a majority of the eleven requested it first. Ioha couldn’t see any criminal approving of an independent court with its own attached military.

  The pure genius astounded him. He, like almost everyone else, believed it was the small Isekai military, but the local governing body had no say over it, and he just learned the truth on his trip back to Gothenburg.

  He strolled down one street, turned a corner, and suddenly found himself at the caravanserai. It looked nothing like what he had expected. Three sandstone warehouses with loading docks, three wide streets out of Isekai, a mix of hotels, inns, taverns, and restaurants around a large square catering to all tastes, with a few pubs and bars thrown in for good measure. There were detached storage buildings, each with its own walls and guards. Stables and carriage houses, both communal and attached to the warehouses, completed the place. Ioha saw not a single one of the wooden buildings, cheaper to build but prone to catching fire. It looked boring, modern, and efficient. Most of all, it hammered into him to what extent Isekai had grown into a local powerhouse.

  The place was packed with people, most participating in the bedlam of commerce, and just looking at them, he could guess they were from all corners of, if not the world, then at least this part of the continent. The mix of clothes and languages was dizzying. If the merchant district had been where Yoshida Akira lost his war, then this was where Lord Clevasti lost his. It made Ioha afraid of walking through the mountain tunnel all the way to what he suspected wouldn’t be just a fishing harbour for much longer.

  You bastards! he thought. The invasion wasn’t just a probable possibility. It was ongoing, and he looked at the results right now. He’d had his fill. A meal, a bath, because a bath still felt better than divine cleaning, and after that, lodgings. Tomorrow promised to be another busy day.