Waking up for the second time this morning is a bit weird, but what’s weirder is that I don’t immediately remember whose bed this is. I check my location on the map and I’m in the Inn slash Tavern that I’d talked about with Maude on the way to town. The room is a glorified closet with a small bed, a side table and a stool and it costs two silver a night.

  I query the system about what’s transpired since I last logged in.

  // A week has passed, you’ve received two inquiries and two system messages, and your person has been idle in bed during the duration.

  Uh, are there other options besides idle?

  //At level 10, and with a skill of at least Intermediate, a player can automate trivial tasks during their downtime.

  Huh. I don’t know how I feel about that. Alaris would just . . . pilot me? As soon as I consider the implications, a skull-splitting headache brings me to my knees while I grab my head. The familiar, yet excruciating pain is thankfully brief as the dissonance episode passes as the traumatic though passes into obscurity.

  Please disable that feature from this account. Also, flag all high-dissonance accounts to require a consultation before using this feature.

  The system prompt confirms my feedback and gives me a ticket number. In order to preserve the fantasy life of this world, I re-organize my message streams so that my queries and feedback messages and responses stay out of my HUD and only blink when a ticket comes back as unsolvable or serious but mitigated.

  Now to look at my messages.

  // Administrators have connected a real money payment service, converting it permanently to Alaris currency per your request. For this transaction service only, 200 pounds will convert to two gold Alaris monthly. This exchange rate is scheduled to be re-negotiated when the closed beta ends and again before Alaris Eternum releases to the public.

  That seems a bit cheaper of an exchange than I was thinking, but I don’t have a good handle on this world’s economy yet. But with skilled labor being paid a rate of about six silver a day. So, what, 150 to 200 pounds a day? About 25-35 pounds per silver is pretty huge. Two gold a month is a substantial sum, but not ridiculous. It seems that I’m getting a somewhat compounding benefit of the digital real-estate and currency exchange from real currency to ATC currency, then ATC to Alaris. There is also that the money spent into Alaris cannot come back out again, so that does change things.

  Enough about money systems that will definitely change twice before a commercial model is fully enacted. For all you know, people will be able to buy game time with in-game currency in the future.

  //Due to unresolved memory echoes from your initial arrival in construct space, your home of record has been changed to Alaris Eternum. This may affect your experience in the ATC. Once your memories have been fully integrated, it may be possible to change your home of record.

  Uh, what? I think Maddi was telling me that she put me here first to lessen the impact of my dissonance, but I never really understood why that would be the case? I somewhat understood the surprise and terror helping me hyperfocus on the task and not what my body could or should be doing, but it’s still fucked up. I’m concerned more about how this change will affect me in the ATC.

  Any clues you want to give me Alaris?

  Since it has to do directly with your livelihood as a resident, I can talk about it. You have heard that people’s weight and fitness can change if they make those changes in their biology. The ATC will now consider the adult teen troll body that you are inhabiting as your biology.

  One major consequence is you will have issues with some of the more nonsensical mechanics that are installed for player ‘convenience’ and ways to skip somewhat more tedious tasking. The trivial skill crafting automation is the example you ran into this morning. I will be monitoring you more closely during more gamified events, and I will be using more prompts to warn you instead of having you stumble into them. I apologize I did not anticipate that merely answering your question would be a trigger.

  I appreciate that, but there’s no way to predict how a statistical outlier will behave for every interaction. She doesn’t reply to that, but I get the impression that she’s happy enough with the exchange.

  Alright. This is my world, my life, and I think I understand more now why Alaris warned me against treating this too much like a game. It’s a world with different rules. It has a robust history and the people here have lived the lives they remember. Let’s go live it with them, shall we?

  I put my dress on and braid back my hair, marveling at my spade-shaped ears while I work. I stuff my satchel with the travel clothes I wore yesterday and strap my money pouch to the side of my leg, under my dress.

  A portly man with a weathered, experienced look greets me as I come down the stairs and asks if I’ll be wanting breakfast.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  “Yes please. And I would like to check out.”

  “Oh? You paid in advance for a few more days, so leave the key on the table when I bring your food, and I get your change sorted afterward.”

  “Thank you kindly.”

  The man huffs and waves off my thanks. Hmm, it doesn’t feel like he’s trying to be rude, so maybe he’s just not one for being thanked for doing his job? I shrug and rustle through my satchel for the key and put it on the table as he asked.

  Breakfast was two barely seasoned eggs, a bean mixture, some sliced sausage and a hunk of bread. I chuckle as I had something very similar served to me as a traditional ‘English’ breakfast but I think this one is slightly better than the one I had in the ATC and worth every penny of the ‘two bits’ I paid for it by volume alone.

  Apparently people don’t like carrying around a sack-full of coppers for common purchases, so they clip silvers for six ‘bits’. Huh, guess at five pounds a pop, that makes sense to me. Makes it awkward fishing through a pouch I’d imagine. In either case, the Inn manager brings my change and tells me to put my plate in the bucket on my way out, pointing to a quarter barrel cut in half in the corner.

  Pleasantly full, I head out to actually start my day and head to my one of the messages I received while I was out: Marcrest’s Branch of the Imperial Bank. The building is a small, stately affair with a few embellishments in the stone work, but otherwise it has few features besides small, thin windows, and ‘Marcrest Bank’ carved in bold serif lettering above the front entrance.

  Bland the outside may be, but once I cross the threshold inside, smooth polished stone reflects warm lighting to reveal tastefully opulent furnishings and decorations. Someone beside me coughs for attention as I take in the room.

  I turn to them and the short man begins talking immediately. “Welcome to the Marcrest Bank! We are well equipped to safeguard your valuables and ensure every copper of worth you put in, is available when you need it.”

  “Are you not bothered that I’m a troll?” Having not seen the man even flinch, I’m curious.

  “This is not my first stop in my travels away from home, young lady. Sky Trolls are much mor common near the Eastern Range where I am from. Now, how may I assist you?”

  Now I am curious as to where he is from, and if I could venture out and meet other trolls. That is not why I am here though. “I received a message from the Assistant Branch Manager about an account set up in my name?”

  “Account services, excellent. Right this way.” He walks toward the back left of the room where some cramped offices seem to be snuggled in the corner. I suppose they would be less cramped if I were half as tall.

  “Timmond, this young lady got a message about an account that was set up for her.”

  “Hm?” A short, wizened man wearing nose pinching spectacles looks up from a stack of paperwork. “A young . . . troll. How curious. Though I do suppose it explains the curious origins of this account of yours. I am familiar with it, thank you Barnaby.”

  He looks up at me, “Please sit and we can get things settled.”

  If I were as plump as I am in the ATC, my butt would not have fit in the chair. “I was not expecting such a message, could you please explain what’s going on?”

  “Interesting. Not much was explained to me in the scroll from the ducal seat office in Barrington. The note said: A chieftain sends their regards; It came with a periodic transfer of 50 silver per month, which was transferred to our branch once we were alerted to your waking. The Account’s total is now five gold, fifty silver. Once we verify your identity and heritage, we can link this account to you and if you would like, connect it to your message ID for ease of use in merchant transactions.”

  Timmond reaches into his desk, retrieving a small orb on a circular stand with a wire connecting it back to behind the desk. “This is a magical version of the verification process. It also skips the blood test for heritage. We could use the older method if you are reluctant to use magic.”

  “Do I need to have an aptitude for magic to use it?” I ask.

  “No. But if your affinity is too low, I will have to issue you a card for merchant exchanges instead of you using a smidgen of aether to facilitate the transfer. The test will tell us, now grab the top so that your palm touches the orb, pressing down lightly.”

  I feel something swirl against my palm, more quickly for each moment I press, until the feeling bursts and a tingle seeps into the parts of my hand that are touching the orb. Seconds later, the orb attempts to take the tingles back. The feeling is curious so I attempt to tug at them as well. To my surprise, some of them linger, but in the end, the orb gets them all back. I want to do it again, to feel and understand what was going on with that magical device.

  “It seems you will have no issues with aether aptitude. The orb identified you as a Sky Troll, but from an undetermined lineage. Very curious, though more of an administrative burden for the Bank than anything you should concern yourself with. There is one last step you must perform before being able to pay through the bank with merchants, you must deposit and withdraw with your new link to the account, preferably via an aether link. The teller at the counter will be able to help you with that.”

  “What? Oh, the teller, thank you mister Timmond.” I realize that I’m being dismissed, but I’m a little out of sorts thinking about the energy from that ball. I decide not to try Timmond’s patience and leave the office.

  I walk up to the only person standing in a window behind the counter next to the Vault and ask them about setting up the equivalent of tap pay—zap pay? The corners of the teller’s mouth turn up but he doesn’t go so far as to break character. He does quickly lead me through the process of authorizing the transfer to my account and from my account with intent and a light touch from my finger. I can feel the device pull slightly on the offered energy, but it’s not as powerful or able to give a smidgen like the orb was.

  “You’re all set miss. I will warn that most smaller merchants don’t require the safe transfer of large funds, and do not employ such methods. Carrying some coin is necessary outside of the Capitol.”

  “Thank you for the information. Have a pleasant day,” I offer a little wave as I step back from the counter.

  “You as well.”

  Uncertainty niggles at the back of my mind as I leave the bank, realizing that some important people know who and where I am, and it seems as though a Sky Troll Chieftain is sending money to help me recover in human lands. The weirdest part is that the bank and the Duke seem okay with it, given the reaction I’ve gotten from the locals on being a Troll.

  Since I have absolutely no way to investigate such matters at the moment, the best I can do is work on bettering myself until I have the appropriate combination of power, resources, and contacts to change that. First task: finding a place to live. And that means heading to the sender of my second message, the proprietor of Arming Arms.