Would you like to find a way out,

do you think it's worth a try?

I'd like to know, is the answer "no"?

Well maybe so, come on,

Take Me to Tomorrow - Dave Matthews Band

The sun dips low in the sky and bathes the tips of the trees in a soft glow. Despite my training as a soldier, my feet ache. Finally, we come upon the perimeter of the village.

Leanna grins as she leads me through the gates.

"Here we are! Meadowhill village." She exclaims, gesturing to the quaint little village about her.

I take a moment to catch my breath, performing what is sometimes called a 'rucksack flop'. Placing my bag on the ground, I stretch my burning muscles. Leanna, by contrast, seems hardly affected by the trek.

I raise my arms above my head and raise myself to the tips of my toes, relief replacing the tension in my muscles. I haven't had to walk that far without breaks or powered armour since basic! I'm actually rather proud of how I acquitted myself.

"Phew," I exhale loudly, "that was quite the journey for today!"

Leanna masks a chuckle.

"A journey?" It appears my physical inadequacy is amusing to her. I see no problems: Excepting magic, I am currently in a muscle-powered society. The best normal people in my world would be about average here.

I nod. This time she can't quite hold back her laugh.

"It is for me at least." I say, not bothering to defend myself.

"Let's continue. We can rest at the inn tonight."

The moment's respite does wonders for my legs, though it does not cure them. As Leanna resumes walking, I follow her, sparking renewed protests in my feet.

The village remains rather active, with people moving about in the streets despite the time of day. I surmise that they are simply getting their last errands done before nightfall. The buildings themselves are composed primarily of wood, brick, and stone, and few rise above their ground floor in any form save for an attic. Each structure seems to have its own character, the wooden sections often being painted lively colours. From many of the buildings hang signs, with various symbols and designs upon them. Many of those signs sport a name for the store they mark, but many others do not. Above them, thatch and a surprising amount of shingles dominate the roofs of the village. Rather than the uniform, efficient shapes of the manufacturing I am familiar with, each of these little abodes seem to have been repaired haphazardly many times throughout their lives, though no block appears out of place.

For the most part, everyone keeps to their own tasks. They barely glance at Leanna, but when their eyes are drawn to me, they don't look away for some time.

In fact, their steps slow and they crane their necks as we pass. I've rarely been the subject of such suspicious attention in my life, and the sensation is… unnerving.

"Now I know what an animal feels like on a preserve…" I mumble to myself.

Leanna overhears my muttering and takes stock of the people around us. Then, she regards me again.

"It's your clothes. They're very… peculiar."

I frown.

"Well, what can we do about it? I didn't exactly pack appropriate apparel for this place."

Leanna considers. Even though the stares are directed at me, she seems equally uncomfortable. Finally, she arrives at a decision.

"Okay, new plan. We'll stop by the shops before they close. We don't need to draw attention to ourselves."

I instinctively reach within my pocket and count the chips. 40, 43, 65… wait. I doubt this place even uses the same currency system as The Sol Coalition.

I remove a smaller chip from my wallet. Though these would certainly be curiosities around here, I'd need a particular kind of person to sell them to. I doubt a weaver or tanner would accept them as payment, especially in a small town like this.

"I don't really… have money, though."

Leanna smiles, sympathetic.

"That's okay. I'll take care of it."

"Again, thank you. I really appreciate it." Genuine gratitude fills my words. Electing to follow Leanna to Illumia was proving to be an extremely good choice.

"It's understandable given your circumstances." She works to downplay her generosity, but I know that a return gesture will still be important.

"I'll pay you back once I can, somehow." And I mean it. For all she's done for me already, a nebulous promise such as that is the least I can do.

Leanna smiles and nods. Then, we change directions and she leads me towards an adjacent street. There are rows of little family shops lining both sides of the road. It's a bit refreshing to not see the signs of the twenty or so megacorporations every five seconds when in a shopping district. Instead, there's just the competing family businesses, as intended by the government. I read the signs as we walk by: 'Edward's Apothecary', 'Blackstone Forge', 'Dragonscale Armoury'...

"Huh…" I muse absentmindedly.

Leanna looks over at me.

"What is it?" she asks.

"I was just thinking of how convenient it was that everything is in English here. Is there some kind of universal language, or a magic that translates everything?"

She blinks.

"Ang-lish?"

I should have expected the question based on how our other conversations had gone, but I'm still a little taken aback.

"It's my world's name for the language we're speaking now. Doesn't it seem strange to you that they both use the same tongue?"

"Oh! Well, I suppose it is. Here, it is called Common."

It is my turn to blink. How would a language both earn a name like Common and be the exact same linguistic mess that English is? Wait, maybe they aren't the same?

"Can you define 'pyjamas', and the origin of that word?" I ask, trying to figure out whether this 'Common' has the same weirdness that English possesses.

"Clothing you wear to bed." She responds promptly. "I don't know where it comes from, but it was probably from one of the Founding Speeches. Why do you ask?"

Okay, so this is also a hodgepodge. Makes some sense. But maybe there is a translator thing going on. Leanna mispronounced things before, but those could just be uncaught errors.

"Oui, est-tu une baguette?" I ask, using my limited grasp of French to try and check for a translation system.

Leanna turns around, as if regarding the strange sounds that issued forth from my mouth. Then, she looks me in the eye.

"Did you just… ask me if I was a piece of bread in Atalean, the third Founding Speech?" She seemed utterly perplexed.

That was… perhaps the weirdest possible result. Like English, French exists here under a different name and as a language which contributed to English some time in the distant past. By the Marshals, that is odd.

"I just wanted to check if my words were being translated. If they were, you would've heard my weird question in this Common of yours. It would seem, however, that they are not, and we are simply speaking the same language."

"Ah." She nods, finally pausing in front of a shop. She peers inside. Satisfied, she motions for me to follow.

"I assure you," I proclaimed as we entered the shop, "no further language related testing will occur for some time. My brain is about to explode."

"That's alright with me. At any rate, we are here."

As I step into the shop, the first thing I notice the the overpoweringly musty smell of leather. This is not surprising, as many of the walls are lined with different kinds of leatherwear. On other segments, racks of quilted fabrics and cloth garb line the walls, with a few more simple types of clothing made of wool and similar materials neatly folded on shelves. The internal construction of the room is primarily wood-based, and behind the scent of cured leather I detect the curious aroma of exposed treated oak.

A small, elderly man emerges from the back. A pair of round glasses sits on his nose as an apron hangs around his neck. While the shop does stock other varieties of clothing, this does appear to be first and foremost a leatherworking business, which his apparel confirms. His eyes light up as the presence of customers is confirmed.

"Welcome! Please, take a look around." He gestures at the various wares that line the walls of his shop. Then, his smile falters as he notices me. Leanna clears her throat.

"We're looking for a new wardrobe for my friend here."

"Yes, yes, of course… You wouldn't mind telling me what those are made out of, young man?"

"Well," I began, "there is some cloth involved, for insulation, but the primary ingredient is a kind of manmade fiber. I don't know the specific name of the one used here, but they are referred to generally as polymers. They are a rather versatile group of materials."

His eyes widen as I explain, though he quickly blinks back to reality and resumes his pitch.

"Well, you've come to the right place for replacements! We tan our hides and stitch the pieces ourselves. You won't find any finer quality in Meadowhill!"

Leanna smiles politely and strolls towards the selections. I check out two seemingly identical leather vests, both of which are marked at different prices.

I really can't see the difference between them. Maybe they boost different stats!

"Kssh…" I let loose a small chuckle at that thought. Leanna looks over at what I'm considering.

"What is it?" She asks.

"Oh, nothing," I say, continuing to have trouble containing my mirth, "I was just wondering which of these increased my intelligence stat."

Leanna appears confused for a moment, then looks around. Finally, she selects a smart-looking leather vest and presents it to me.

"This one does." She says with a smile. I stare at her for a good while. Finally, we both burst out laughing.

When we are done, she returns the vest to its spot. I finally ask the real question.

"I was just wondering why these two cost different amounts but look the same. It was really weird, so I thought of a ridiculous explanation."

She inspects the offending garments, then points to a segment on both.

"Here. The stitching on the second one is somewhat tighter, and the leather used is thicker. More thread was used making it."

I nod. That makes sense.

She smiles as we continue perusing.

"Do clothes where you come from 'raise stats'?" she asks out of nowhere.

"Well, style points are a thing, but they're mostly subjective. You could consider them a stat, but that is a little weird."

Piece by piece, Leanna and I create a new outfit. The multi-layered outfit is designed for use in various weathers, allowing me to add or remove parts of it as needed. My main contributions were a blue scarf, which I just couldn't go without, and vest and pants that made up the primary insulation layer. All told, it would likely even be useful as a sort of armour. The external layer was hardened, boiled leather, and could withstand quite a bit of force. With everything set up, she goes to haggle with the shopkeeper. I tune out their discussion and watch the people passing by. Their clothing is simple in design, form coming from function rather than aesthetic appeal.

To my surprise, almost everyone walks around armed. This village doesn't look dangerous, but looks can be deceiving. Leanna's voice breaks my out of my internal monologue.

"Why don't you get changed now? There's a space in the back to give you some privacy."

I nod thanks, taking the clothes from her. Once I reach the room at the back, I close the door and change. Putting this new set of stuff on proved difficult, as the lack of self-adjusting elastics mean that every step of the way has something for me to tighten or loosen. The internal layers have pockets, fortunately, and I am able to transfer my wallet over. Then, stowing my old clothes inside a school bag now mostly contained within a bag made of a scratchy fiber, I exit the room. As I do, Leanna gives me a onceover.

"How do I look?" I ask. She grins and nods in satisfaction.

"Wow, look at you! You fit right in. It suits you!"

Before this day, if someone told me that leather armour suited me, I would've rolled my eyes and moved on. But this thing is actually a fairly neat piece of kit. A bit less comfortable, but that is the price that must be paid. I match her smile.

"Well, thanks. This was only possible because of you, after all."

"Let's go find the inn now." She proceeds out of the shop, with myself in tow. As I look out at the thinning clusters of people, I am suddenly reminded of a thought I had a few minutes back.

"Actually…" I postulate, "maybe we could stop by an armoury."

She pauses, and looks curiously at me.

"Armoury? You want to get a weapon?"

Her question is careful, cautious.

"The goal is to blend in, right? It's weird that a person wearing what is basically leather armour is traveling unarmed… I look like a hostage or something."

"Hmm…" she considers, "you do have a point. Plus, it could come in handy."

My fears of running into bandits again resurface. I really hope I don't have to fight anything while I'm here.

"Is there a weapon you know how to use?" Again, though her voice holds no hostility, I can sense the caution in it.

"Two… sort of. I am a trained soldier back home, but unless you can get me an assault rifle of some kind, my marksmanship training is fairly useless."

She shakes her head.

"The other, well… as part of ceremonial protocol, commissioned officers have to learn how to handle a sword. The ceremonial weapon is of arming sword length, and I can move it about with some confidence. Fighting with one, though…" I trail off, before finding a satisfactory answer, "let's just hope we don't need to do any of that."

"I see." Leanna then falls silent as she gazes out into the street. After an extended pause, she nods.

After some investigation, we discover that there is only one forge in Meadowhill Village. Upon entering, I notice rows of blades ranging from longswords to short daggers hanging from the wall, and a variety of other metal weaponry in various fashions of display. Along one wall, spears are racked as close as they can be without clattering with every shift of the floor, at another a cluster of arrowheads sits in a box, ready to be moved to a fletcher's shop. Behind the counter, a few weapons are mounted decoratively, likely showpieces or simply works which turned out well. Aside from those few at the back, all of the blades look fairly plain, but their steel edges glint dangerously amidst the warm glow of the forge.

Unlike the previous shopkeeper, the metalsmith ignores us as he steels himself to extract metal from the largest of his ovens.

Wait… I'm not sure that fire is that colour in pre-industrial metallurgy. Or really… ever.

Though a few traditional furnaces burn low, their coals adding a dull orange to the environment, the one currently in use doesn't seem to hold a flame at all. Instead, a brilliant glow emanates from the insides of the main hearth, rays of light streaming out of it like captured daylight. As we watch, the blacksmith extracts a block of granite, smoldering with residual heat. Raising a large hammer, the smith breaks open the block, the chunks giving way to a brightly-glowing object reminiscent of a longsword. After procuring a different hammer, he begins to pound away on the object until it has cooled to cherry red, then dumping it in a pitcher of water with a resounding hiss of steam. Heating it back up again with one of the smaller furnaces, the process continues. Leanna looks on in wonder.

"I've never seen fire of that colour before." I state simply.

"He must be making a commission for the Academy. That kind of process… that'll be a fortified weapon at least."

She turned to me.

"There must be a tap in Meadowhill, and he is using it to fuel that. A magic tap." She quickly added.

"Awesome. How hot does it get? Does it do something special to the metal?"

She thinks for a second.

"It gets very hot, enough to melt steel with ease. That weapon right there is probably made of an exotic alloy of some kind. As for special properties, the magic used in the initial forging process is sealed within the weapon, making further fortification much easier."

In the background, sparks fly from the clanging metal, reminding me of a plasma torch's effects on steel. Leanna motions for me to browse the swords, as the blacksmith likely will not be done for a fair bit. I reach for one which catches my eye.

I gently remove it from the shelf, noticing its significantly increased weight compared to the ceremonial swords I am used to. As I shift my grip to one more suited to combat, the weapon seems to tremble awkwardly, and I barely manage to hold onto it. For my troubles, it manages to clatter into several other swords on the wall. Steel scratches against steel with a sharp screech, and I wince. The metalsmith pauses in his work to glower a warning. Leanna looks at me in shock.

"Careful!" she exclaims.

I work quickly to right myself, gripping the weapon tightly. However, that tremble doesn't leave the blade, and I wonder if it is unbalanced. Leanna watches me, equal parts confused and intrigued.

"Is this the first time you've held a sword?" She asks. I shake my head.

"No. It might just be that I was trained on lighter, ceremonial weapons, but this feels all sorts of wrong." I step back from the wall, bringing the weapon around in a slow, sweeping salute.

The blade seems to follow my motion with an overzealous fervor, sending it flying out of my hands. I look on, utterly befuddled, as the weapon carreens through the air, only to then gracefully float into Leanna's outstretched gauntlet. My pure incredulity must show on my face, as I run the mental calculations on that motion a third time.

If that obeyed the law of conservation of momentum, I would not have lost my grip. It accelerated to a speed over ten times greater than that of the hands holding it. Something is very wrong.

Leanna also appears to notice that there is something wrong, as she blinks, her flickering eyes searching the sword for answers. She finds none.

"I don't see what could've done that. Are you trying to throw the sword about? Your form seems adequate."

"No…" I say with some accuracy, "that sword just felt off. Like the balance was moving all over the place. Picking it up was fine, but as soon as I held it like a blade…" I gestured to the weapon now in Leanna's hand.

She swept the sword about in a few swift test strokes, then returned it to me.

"It seems fine to me." She said, though my previous performance put a slight edge of hesitation in her voice.

As soon as my grip on the thing is returned, so is the sense of unease. I return to the two-handed lifting grip, and the feeling ceases, allowing me to place the sword back on its rack. I then select another, raising it from its place, only for that dangerous wavering to appear again. My test swing is glacial, but every few moments the weapon twitched violently, as if trying desperately to escape my tyrannical grasp. With an exasperated sigh, I hand the weapon to Leanna, who swings it effortlessly, confirming that it, to, is entirely normal.

I change tactics, selecting a short sword. As I gingerly raise the object, a tremor alerts me to the reality of the situation, and I quickly return the weapon to its place.

After we try a few more blades of differing varieties, Leanna has become as confused as I am.

"What is happening?" she asks no one in particular. "Each one of those was fine, but in your hands they…" she places her head in her hands, ready to give up on getting me a weapon.

I hadn't noticed until now, but the blacksmith had finished with that longsword a while ago, and had been watching my struggles with no little amusement.

"I presume that you've been enjoying the show." I say, with a self-deprecating, defeated tone. He chuckles slightly.

"Yes, I've never seen a man who swords refuse to obey so. Some clumsiness, yes, but nothing to that degree."

I'm about to respond, a simple apology for wasting his time. This wild zebra hunt has gone on quite long enough, and I'm ready to start winding down. Whatever the cause, I will not be using a sword while on Terra, in any capacity. I should best stick to assault rifles, anyway.

Then the glint of one of the swords behind the counter catches my eye.

"I'd assume you haven't, but I wonder…" I pointed to the weapon, "perhaps I could give that one a try?"

He follows my gesture, then laughs heartily, though there is a twinge of irritation in his eyes, as if I reminded him of some issue.

"After all that, and you want to try that sword? It has done the thing you've been doing for the past fifteen minutes to several far more experienced swordsmen. I've been waiting for a chance to melt it down and get it out of my shop."

Really? Despite that, I still felt that I should try that one in particular. Perhaps there is some more knowledge I could gather.

"Why," I ask with a note of genuine curiosity, "is there something special about that sword?"

The blacksmith removes it from its place on the display rack. He takes considerable care, always with one hand on the hilt, one near the tip resting on the flat of the blade. Unlike the other display models, this weapon seems almost unremarkable, but the smith seems put off by having to hold it. He then places it on the desk with a slight clatter.

"I made this weapon a few weeks ago, when I got my hands on some high-quality steel ingots shipped from the Incendiary Mountains. This one got the last of it; there wasn't enough left for a full blade, so I mixed it with regular iron smelted separately during the forging process. And what I got was this. Over its lifetime, it has been picked up by over a dozen travellers looking for a new weapon, and each of them…" he pantomimed a sword flying out of his hands, "well, they left with something else from my stock."

"Well, could I give it a go?"

"Not a chance. Combining a sword which doesn't want to be wielded and a person that weapons already don't want to obey is..."

Suddenly, he looks like he has an idea.

"I wonder…"

"What are you thinking?" Leanna asks.

"I was thinking that there is a possibility that will have trouble locating a sword other than this one that works properly. I don't have anything to lose. Have a go."

He takes a few steps back and to the side. I looked over at Leanna.

"One more, then we can leave. Would you catch this when it flies from my grip, please?"

Leanna nodded, and took up a ready stance. Feeling no small amount of unease, I lifted the weapon. Everything seemed fine, so I shifted into a more proper grip.

The sword felt as though it was simply one of the rapiers I used for ceremony. I fall into a more stable stance, bringing the weapon up to my shoulder. It moves easily, but does not try to jump from my hands. Taking a step back from the counter, I perform a test swing, and the movement feels almost natural, as if I've done it many times instead of a few dozen. As the weapon cuts through the air with an elated thwing!, I can't help but admire how smoothly it slices. It is the equal of any made on Earth. I smile the smile of someone who's persistence has paid off.

"Let's go with this one."

The smith laughs.

"I should've guessed. Dawn magic can be quite unruly sometimes."

As before, Leanna discusses with the shopkeeper. When she returns, I strap the sword to my belt, admiring how it looks on me. The leather scabbard glistens, betraying the weapon which lies within.

"Well then," I start, "that was something of an adventure."

Leanna smiles, nodding.

"Yes, it was."

We make one more stop to gather supplies for our travel. By the time we're finished, the sun has set and darkness blankets the sky. The thick, black clouds remind me of home. The town is aglow with soft light, houses and lampposts each adding to the glimmering illumination.

As we pass by a lamppost, I peek inside and see a small crystal shining brilliantly. I wonder how effective of a light source it is, and how often it must be replaced.

Using the lights to guide us, we find the inn. As we enter, I am stopped by a large individual. He sneers at me in recognition.

"I saw you before today. You was wearing strange clothes. Ya' got any proof you're not one of 'em?"

I was, of course, very confused. For starters, I have no idea who 'em' refers to.

"I'm afraid that I don't know what you are talking about, sir. Let me through, please." My voice is calm but firm. Someone calls out from near the door.

"Let him go, Terry, you're costing the landlord business. A connie wouldn't try anything in a place like this anyway. Not worth it."

"I'm helpin' the landlord keep his business. Now then, lad. Ya' got a talent?"

I could hear the slur of alcohol in his voice, but I did my best to keep my cool. Still, he was asking for something I didn't know about, and a touch of unease crept into my voice.

"I don't know what you are talking about. Let me pass, sir."

Leanna, noticing my debacle at the door, begins to move towards me.

"See, guys? He's a bloody connie! Only one o' them would refuse to show a talent!"

"That isn't true." Leanna said from behind him. The man turns around.

"Izzat so, miss."

"Yes," she said, shooting a reassuring glance at me, "some talents can't really be seen or are embarrassing. And sometimes, as is the case with my friend here, a person can be born without one. You knew this, didn't you?"

The man struggled to regain lost ground.

"But, 'hen how's he gonna prove he isn't one?"

"A talent is a sure sign that a person isn't a construct. A lack of talent only means a person might be. Besides," she says, raising her left hand and gesturing to the sigil upon it, "as a member of the Mage Guild, I can vouch for this person. He is not a construct."

The man sputtered in place for a second, then slinks back to his seat in a corner.

I mouthed a quick "thank you" at Leanna, and then went to secure seating. I found a spot at one of the crudely built tables near the centre of the room, while Leanna talks to the innkeeper behind the bar. There are a number of other patrons, most of whom sit alone, nursing tankards of what I assume is some kind of alcohol.

I stifle a yawn. I had been walking for almost seven hours by the time we reached the village, and that sort of thing does a number on your system. I feel almost fortunate, as this will help me deal with jet lag. Interdimensional transportation lag? Luckily, Leanna returns and hands me a key.

"This is your room for the night. It's right next to mine."

Efficiency would have us share a room, but I shudder at the thought. Even if there were multiple beds, bunking with someone of the opposite gender would be a nightmare. It is fortunate that she got us seperate rooms.

"Thanks."

I get the feeling all of a sudden that I'm going to be saying that a lot for the foreseeable future. She nods.

"They should be coming out with our dinner soon. Then we should get to sleep. We have an early start tomorrow."

Despite having had lunch, my stomach growls in anticipation. I start at the unfamiliar noise.

"Sorry."

Leanna smiles as she sits in the stool next to mine.

"What is a talent? In case I need to know for the future."

Leanna looks surprised for a moment, but then turns to me.

"Most people are born with a kind of small magical ability that doesn't need crystals to function. Something small, like changing the colour of your eyes, or producing a small flame. They've become a lot more important recently, with all of the panic around constructs."

She points to herself.

"Mine is Mage Sight. If I focus, I can see magical energy. I use it to supplement my manipulator's scans."

"Oh, so that dancing light I saw in your eyes back in the forest…" I mused.

"I was looking at the energy surrounding you."

Ah. That makes sense.

Our food arrives, and I stare at the bowl before me. It's a goopy, thick stew and looks about as appetizing as dog food. But it does smell pretty good. At that, I wonder how a person like myself, raised in an environment which preached compulsive sanitation and hygiene will hold up on a place like Terra. A combination of an upgraded immune system that can, under the right circumstances, defeat highly adaptable diseases and a set of wellness-boosting nanites will put me in a better place than some Terrans, but the diseases here will also be both utterly foreign and exquisitely adapted to target humans. I wish I had some nannies in pill form, because the ones that are always present in my bloodstream mostly just get more out of food and bolster existing systems. There's barely enough room for that and self-replication with enough checks to make sure no grey goo can occur.

I'll likely be fine, but if I'm ever not fine, I'll be really not fine.

I then notice that I've been staring at the meal for all of this, and Leanna has already started eating.

"Uh, what is this?" I ask as politely as I can.

"It's stew." I receive a simple answer.

"...What kind of stew." Despite my reverie, I am still uncertain about eating something which looks like this. My stomach shouts protests, noting that food is before me and I am not eating it.

"Rabbit." She says cheerfully.

Oh, that's right. This place won't have synth-meat, either.

"Is something wrong?" She asks, now somewhat concerned.

Back home, trying new foods was just a thing I did. It's natural. Here, it's even more important. If I can't bring myself to eat the local cuisine, I'll starve to death. Shaking off the odd appearance of the meal, I raise the wooden spoon.

"Nothing." I quickly say. "This is fine. Thanks. It was just that, as you saw, food looks a little different where I come from."

I take a tentative bite of my stew. The smell should've given it away, but this stuff tastes great! It's well seasoned, yet simple, and has enough of everything that I'll likely be just fine with it. I may need to mix in a few bits of the stuff my nannies need into future meals on occasion, but otherwise I'll be golden.

"This," I exclaimed after clearing my mouth, "is much better than I expected!"

Leanna grins as she returns to her own bowl. As we're eating, I feel the urge to ask something.

"Leanna, what's the deal with constructs?"

She looks up at me.

"You said that you had constructs on your world. Souls, you called them, right?"

"Yeah, for S O L. Synthetic Organo-patterned Lifeform. A machine based on the appearance of humans to hold a human mind. They're not common, but they are a fact of life, some of the best of almost any profession you could name."

I gestured to her gauntlet.

"But the way you reacted to being called one, and the drunken fervour of that man at the door, I feel like the opinion on constructs is a little different from the one on SOLs."

She nods. Then, speaks in a low voice.

"Constructs first started appearing about two years back," she said between slow mouthfuls of food, "and there was a lot of apprehension surrounding them. With the intricate network of magic moving them around, a lot of people thought they were unnatural. They started being shunned from most of society, and that's when the attacks started. They can't use magic from crystals without being modified with obvious adaptors, so they prefer independent crystal systems like dischargers. What that thug at the door was doing would've been very dangerous if you actually were a construct."

Leanna didn't say anything else on the subject, but I caught the drift. Discrimination, attacks, that would lead to an undercurrent of fear on both sides. It saddens me to see a society caught up in a hidden war like this.

Due to my pause at the beginning, Leanna finishes her bowl somewhat before I do. After I am done, the two of us head upstairs. After a dozen steps or so, she stops in front of a door. I hastily check the room number on my key and realize that I've overshot, doubling back to the door right before hers. I give her a cheerful, if tired, smile.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight." She responds promptly, returning my smile. I'm about to enter when I hear a small voice, the voice of someone I lost track of an hour back.

"Poi?"

Looking down, I see the pango back at my feet. I briefly wonder where he was while we were in the shopping district.

"Have you been following us this whole time," I ask, "or did you lose us and then find us again?"

The pango blinks twice. Then he bounces, his gelatinous structure giggling with joy.

"Poi poi!"

"Pangos aren't exactly welcomed everywhere." Leanna says, explaining the pango's absence.

"Well, why in the Marshals' names would that be?"

"Well, they absorb the energy around them, including crystals which are used to light lampposts or similar items."

"I can see how that might be bad."

I looked down at the blue blob at my feet again. How is it that a creature can both be such a pest and so damn cute at the same time. I then remind myself that rodentia exists back on Earth.

"I think this guy knew to stay out of sight once we came in here."

"What if someone sees him?" I ask. As I do, the image of a pango wearing a stealth infiltration suit appears in my mind, and I snicker.

"Was something funny?" Leanna asks, genuinely curious.

"I was just considering what a pango sneaking into somewhere would look like."

A smile twitches Leanna's lips.

"Anyway, as long as he doesn't stray too close to a crystal, he'll be fine. People only make a fuss when it looks like their crystal might be drained."

"Got it."

She reaches towards the pango.

"Do you want to sleep with me tonight?" She asks the little creature. After a moment, she receives a terse "Poi" as her response.

The pango snuggles against my leg, and Leanna sighs, looking slightly dejected.

"I thought as much." She proceeds to open her door, flashing me one last smile.

"Sleep well."

And then she disappears through the doorway.

I then open my door, stepping through. The pango perks up.

"Poi poi!" I step away from the door, and the pango hops in. He looks around, bouncing across the surface of the floor with his characteristic grin, as if inspecting the room. I close the door, and restore my clothing setup to my Earth garb. The leather has already begun to be uncomfortable, and breaks like this will be very much appreciated. Then, I collapse onto the bed, the pango still bouncing about the room. I lift my head to look at the little guy.

"Are you looking for a good place to sleep?"

I receive an extra-long "Poooooi!" as my answer. He then, without warning, leaps up onto my bed. Then he bounces to the foot of the bed and wiggles himself a cozy nest by creating a small crater on top of the blanket. I can't help but grin as the little guy settles in.

"Goodnight, pango."

Actually, what should I call him? If he's going to be sticking around, perhaps I should…

"Yawwwn." My body impatiently prods me to get to sleep.

"poipoi."

I roll over in bed.

I'll think about this tomorrow.

Despite the lack of true comfort to be found on the straw-stuffed bed, it is not long before I am fast asleep.

A/N: In earlier editions of this story, Alasdair was very much an author insert. He gets a whole bunch of extra abilities with no consequences, and a later me decided that this was dumb. However, I decided to keep them in. Basically, by the end of the original story, MC was a bit of a magical Swiss-Army Knife, which reduced the unique capabilities of Leanna and Amelia in later chapters. So, the idea is to make Alasdair here a magical powerhouse... but that's it. He does big, flashy, cost-intensive attacks that no one else would consider because for anyone else, they're a terrible idea. He lacks the finesse and training to perform truly amazing magical feats, at least on his own. But he pulls his weight in other categories: martial creativity, this sword, [REDACTED], and Earth science. He's not a better swordsman than Leanna or better mage than Amelia, but he's a willful soldier of mankind, a Xenophysicist, and so much more.

This allows him to, instead of just being better, fill a unique set of niches within the party, while still keeping the things that I spent far too much time worldbuilding, and I'm excited to see what a proper audience thinks of the change.