Bog Standard Isekai

The group was pretty ripe when they returned to their bunk room one last time to wash and change for dinner. The smell only got worse as they stripped out of their armor, unleashing smells that had been hiding in wait for three days. The servants couldn't all hide the disgust on their faces as they gathered the clothes to be laundered. It would only get worse from here. This time they'd basically been camping in their front yard, but soon they'd been on the road for weeks or months. He'd need to talk to Cowl about doing something about their hygiene situation.

When Brin was dressed, and feeling the hunger of a quickly growing body, he was interrupted at the door by a man he'd never seen before. He wore the official uniform of a [Messenger], which Brin verified with [Inspect].

The [Messenger] eyed Brin's scars and said, "Whoa. She wasn't kidding. You're Brin the Mistaken?"

"That's right."

He pulled a letter from his bag and handed it to Brin. It was from Lumina. "I was paid to deposit this into your hands directly. I bid you a good day."

Brin returned to the bunkroom, opening the letter.

"Oh, it's a woman's handwriting. Is that from your mommy?" sneered Govannon.

Brin said, "Yeah."

Govannon started laughing and elbowed Brych. The [Rogue] gave an uncomfortable smile and backed away from Govannon. No one else joined in. Brin stared at his Dectant with no expression until the laughter died down.

"Y-yes. Very well. Sir," said Govannon, and then marched towards the door, frowning.

Hedrek burst out laughing when Govannon was out of the door, and the rest of the men joined in.

"If only he'd taken it a little bit farther, we would've seen something good," said Hedrek, as they all filed out.

Knights were stereotypically very defensive when it came to their mothers, so there was no way any wannabe [Knights] would've been happy to see someone make fun of one. Thankfully Govannon hadn't taken it that far.

As for his own feelings, well, he couldn't honestly say he loved Lumina like a normal son loved his mother, but he liked her and he respected her.

The letter began.

My dear Brin,

It was with acute gladness that I received your last letter. Knowing that you are safe with Galan has set my heart at such ease as you can scarcely imagine. The plots and treachery present in the Tower are worse even than I had imagined, and it's been all that Hogg and I can do to stay afloat of them. Oh, but please worry not on our account. I am not in danger of direct attack and Hogg is positively thriving here. For a man who claims to have such contempt for schemes and machinations, Hogg has taken to this world like a duck to water.

As for your own safety, I think it was correct to send you to the Order of the Long Sleep in more ways than one. It is seen that by joining an Ollandish Order you have tied yourself to their nation, and now are in no position to help me in realizing whatever pretentions they imagine I have. Worry not over these matters. All will be settled by the time you are ready to enter the Tower.

Hogg sends his best, and reminds you be circumspect in your associations and prudent in the care of your own safety, though not in those words exactly.

Brin snorted in amusement. He could imagine exactly which words Hogg would use to remind him to stay safe and not make a fool of himself.

As for your questions, I must say that I find this matter of Galan and Lyssa to be deliciously scandalous. She is the sister of a man that Galan slew, and she doesn't know that he knows. What fun! Were she the one with a secret, that would give her advantage over him. To what end? I know not. But now he knows her secret and has advantage over her. He will be able to reveal this knowledge to great effect, but this is a card that can only be played once. If I were him, I would act in all ways as if I had no idea, waiting for the perfect moment to spring my trap.

Brin paused. He had the feeling that this wasn't actually about Galan. She was telling him not to do anything about Lothar yet. She probably had some way to exploit the fact that he was a spy for Arcaena, and he couldn't expose him until the moment was right.

As for [Riding], I must say that I have never regretted taking [Riding] as a Skill. Finding the best beast that money can procure and elevating it further with my own Skill is simply the fastest way to travel. That you also have the chance to train this Skill with true experts makes this a nearly perfect choice. However, I would be remiss if I did not tell Hogg's side and point out the magical conveyances that he is able to conjure for himself, some of which are quite intriguing. Perhaps something could be created with glass to the same effect? I would also point out that you will greatly benefit bringing at least one free General Skill point with you to the Tower, as there is an upgrade to [Meditation] that I consider essential to any young [Mage]. You might also consider keeping your Skill point free for [Inspect]. I have little doubt that the System will soon offer you some sort of upgrade to that, if it hasn't already.

As for the question of how to deal with [Knights], I have several options. I can drown them, bake them in their armor, electrocute them, or simply shatter their armor directly. Blinding or deafening them are both possible, but between their vitality and the protections of their armor, I cannot say whether this will be easier than simply destroying them. I understand that you hope there is some trick of Language that will give you an easy way to undermine their defenses, but I must disappoint you. I did not hold back when I taught you last year, though our time was short. Instead of seeking out new words, have you meditated on the words I've already taught you? Greater comprehension of each word will increase the effects, so if striking power is your aim, then I advise you to expand your understanding of , , , and of course, .

Starting with , have you noticed that letters that make it up are Une and Dow, instead of Astra? When combined with Ka, Kam, and Sek there is a mathematical symmetry that is quite pleasing, especially when you consider how it relates to and . I’ll explain. When we divide the base of a natural logarithm by the…

What followed was several pages of magical theory complete with mathematical proofs around the four words that Lumina had asked him to concentrate on. It was the most Lumina thing possible, and just reading it gave Brin a notification.

Through training you have received the following attribute:

Magic +1

The magical theory section was three times as long as the rest of the letter put together, but she got back on topic at the end.

The funds for purchasing armor should arrive soon. I have also arranged a certain artifact to come into your possession. If my plans come to fruition, you will get it exactly when you need it. When you get it, you will know what to do with it. That is all I can tell you for now. ᚱἈℕŐBĚS̩

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

Be safe, my darling boy.

With love,

Lumina

What artifact? Was that the Lightmind enchanted into glass that Hogg had told him they’d be getting him? That would explain why she wasn’t talking about it directly. It would be a danger to let anyone know about an artifact that he was going to give direct access to his thoughts.

He realized he’d been reading for nearly ten minutes now, and his stomach had advanced from hunger to piercing, gnawing pain. He tucked the letter in his pocket so that he could study the magical section again later, and dashed down the hall towards the mess.

Inside he found the Lance already sitting together at a table, so he quickly got his food and joined them.

“You know, I’m going to miss this place,” said Brych. “The food is bland and the company is worse, but… you know I forgot what I was going to say. I’ll still miss it, though.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the food,” said Cowl.

“Maybe not to you, but some of us are used to eating meals with actual flavor. Cid and Hedrek know what I mean,” said Meredydd.

Hedrek shrugged. “Food is food. As long as there’s a lot of it, that’s good enough for me.” He glanced around with an uncharacteristic look of sheepishness. “You know? When I was little–”

“You were never little,” objected Cid.

Hedrek grinned. From the looks of it, this was a familiar back and forth. “I was! I was a little!”

“You were a giant even as a baby!” said Cid.

“No, I was baby sized,” said Hedrek.

“Not compared to other babies!” said Cid.

“Well, ok then. When I was smaller than I am now…” Hedrek looked to see if Cid would interrupt again, but Cid seemed satisfied by that phrasing. “When I was a child, a somewhat large child–”@@novelbin@@

“A giant child,” muttered Cid.

“Oh, would you let him finish!” said Brych.

Cid waved an apology and Hedrek started over.

“When I was little I used to dream about the food I’d be able to eat when I was a man and I had my own money. I promised myself that I’d make myself a house out of bread and there’d be no door so I’d have to eat my way out.”

Brin laughed. “Bread, Hedrek? I used to dream about the same thing, but my house was made of cake. Candy and cake, Hedrek! With chocolate doorknobs and frosting instead of plaster.”

To be fair, that dream had been pulled wholesale from a storybook, but he really had daydreamed about it.

Hedrek sniffed in amusement. “Well, little Brin had a better imagination than little Hedrek.”

Cid looked like he was about to open his mouth, but Hedrek said, “Oh don't even.”

“It is strange,” said Rhun. It was rare for him to chime in when they were together in a big group. “I have a hard time imagining Brin as a child, with parents.”

“He's still a child,” said Brych.

“Why did [Archmage] Lumina call you Scar the Mistaken? Or was it your foster father who named you this?” asked Rhun.

“Hm? You don't know? I'm certain I told you and Sion the story,” said Brin.

“Perhaps you told Sion.”

“Well there's not much to tell. After a head injury I forgot my name and started telling people I was Brin.”

Hedrek burst out laughing then paused after a moment. “Wait, you're serious.”

Brin shrugged and turned back to his dinner.

“That can't be true. There's no way that's true,” he heard Govannon mutter.

“So you truly don't know your real name?” Cid asked, studying Brin's face intently.

“I know my old name, but there's a reason I haven't gone back to that,” said Brin. Man, telling people even his surface-level history was a minefield. There was a reason he normally kept quiet about this stuff; if he said much more he was at risk for breaking his Oath.

He refused to speak any more on the subject no matter how much they pressed. Eventually they gave up and moved the conversation back to the upcoming patrols. The Lance was divided on whether or not they were looking forward to it. The three men that Brin was calling “Team Lazy” were complaining about the comforts that they'd miss. That was Anwir, Govannon, and Meredydd. The other guys were “Team hothead” who just wanted to get out there and kill something. Rhun, Aeron, and Brych were the team captains. Somehow, Hedrek was on both teams.

“What you're really going to miss,” said Govannon, pointing an accusing finger at Hedrek, “is having someone dress you every day. You can't do anything right unless someone does it for you.”

“What you're really going to miss is having someone change your diapers and wipe your bottom,” said Hedrek.

Govannon's comment didn't elicit much of a reaction, but everyone broke into uproarious laughter at Hedrek's.

They were still laughing when Brin noticed Galan and Lyssa leaving the food line with their trays. Galan was watching them, so Brin called out, “Sir Galan! Come dine with us!”

In a panic, Cid whispered, “Shush, Brin. He won't want to…”

“If I'm not intruding too much. I would not wish to dampen your boisterous laughter, especially as I myself have no taste for humor.”

Despite his feigned objections, Galan wasted no time in taking the empty space across from Brin, and Lyssa sat next to him.

The other members of the Lance looked anywhere from nervous to terrified, and Cid managed to choke out, "We'd be delighted to have you join us, of course. And if humor isn't to your taste, then we'll talk about something else."

"We could talk about Brin," Hedrek chimed in. "He was just telling us how he got his name. He said he got a head injury and just started calling himself Scar."

"Well, yes, that's true. I was there. And good for you on confiding in your friends, Brin. I know how difficult it is for you to speak of these things," said Galan.

"What? Then what's his real name?"

"His name previous to his injury was Aberthol Beynon, though he has joined the Order under the name sir Brin the Mistaken and I have chosen to accept that."

"Then... then he was telling the truth. You've got to be joking," said Hedrek.

"No, indeed, as I've said, I have little patience for jokes," said Galan.

"Yeah, see I don't get that," said Brin. "Everyone likes humor. Saying you don't like humor is like saying you don't like music."

"I don't care for music," said Lyssa. "I care not for the warbling of the [Bards]. Give me instead a tavern full of fine folk, raising their mugs and their voices to a drinking song."

Brin thought it was odd that [Bards] had so completely captured the culture that even the people who didn't like them still ceded the idea that the music [Bards] played was "real" music.

"See, that's actually making my point. People who say they don't like music just haven't found the music they like yet."

"What are you suggesting?" Galan asked.

"Well, let me make some assumptions, and you tell me if I'm completely off base. You don't like physical humor. Pranks, ear twisting, or hitting people in the balls, because someone who's seen as much real violence as you will never enjoy the imitation of it. You don't care for sexual humor or innuendo, and you don't like humor at someone else's expense."

"You have captured my feelings very nicely," said Galan.

Those were the main types of things that guys in a competitive environment like a Lance would lauch about, so it was no wonder that Galan thought he didn't like to laugh.

"I'd also wager that you don't like subtle irony. You favor direct communication, so you have no patience for people who say something other than what they mean," said Brin.

"I don't know if I'd go that far. You make me sound--" Galan started.

"No, no, he's completely right," said Lyssa.

"In that case, you can see that I'm at an impasse," said Galan.

"No, I don't think so," said Brin.

This was a familiar problem back in his old world. Some men who prided themselves on being funny their whole lives suddenly found that they had to adjust their sense of humor to their children. They didn't want to say anything that would set a bad example, and they also didn't want their jokes to go over their kids heads. The natural result even had a name: Dad jokes.

"What do you call a fish wearing a bowtie? Sofishticated."

Lyssa groaned, while Cid gasped in shock that someone could say something like that to the Acting Commander of the Order of the Long Sleep.

Galan tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I did not hate that. Tell another."

"I have a chocolate music box," Brin said. "You could say it sounds pretty sweet."

Aeron gasped out a quick laugh, probably more at the ridiculousness of what Brin was trying than actual appreciation of the joke, and Galan crinkled a smile.

"You know, I taught the guys how to do a split squat. It was a big step forward."

Several of the men laughed, and Galan chuckled a little bit as well.

"I'm going to get rid of my calendar; its days are numbered. What did the [Cleaner] say when he jumped out of the closet? Supplies! I asked my horse what's two minus two; he said nothing."

The last joke elicited a full bellied laugh from Galan. He laughed like a drain that had been plugged up for years finally opened free, and the rest of the men joined in, mostly because of how funny it was to see Galan laugh like that.

"Stop it!" Lyssa said, but even she looked pleased to see Galan so happy.

When dinner was winding down, and the jokes were all spent, Galan announced, "Now, I'm told you're all going on your first patrol as a Lance tomorrow, is that correct? Unfortunately our quick influx of new members means that I'm unable to see you all in appropriate armor before you leave. You'll need to make due with what you have now for the time being. But I think I might be able to do something about your weapons. Would you all care to join me in the armory?'

Cid's Lance was rarely unified on anything, but no one found the need to complain about that idea.