Evadne led me into the crowded mess hall. The air was thick with the scent of spices and sizzling meat. A welcome change from the sterile clinic. I inhaled deeply. My stomach urged me loudly to take action, ignorant of the strain left by the stairs.

  Instinct led my sight to the opposite side of the room. The cooks there were heaping food onto the plates of people in a line. It was far too long for my taste.

  I made a step to navigate the maze of people and tables. But Evadne pointed at a nearby free table for four, looking at the drop of sweat on my head. "Wait here, I'll grab a meal for you."

  *What a kind gesture.*

  After a nod I sat impatiently. With eyes fixed on Evadne, I mused.

  *When would my meal arrive?*

  The distance to the counter felt vast.

  One stronger pulse on my wrist. "Leonard." I flinched, my hand instinctively grabbing it. The mark of the moon and sun pulsed with a gentle warmth.

  I forced my attention back to the mess hall with my eyes on Evadne again. She stood straight and still in the long line, a calm presence in the clamor of the room.

  But Althea persisted. Her voice cut through my thoughts. "I'm sorry, Leonard. My words before were harsh."

  *Harsh, that's good.*

  I squeezed my wrist.

  *Where's Evadne? She was right there.*

  *Oh, she's near the front of the line, already picking up food.*

  Her white robe had thick amber rings around her arms, just below the elbow. Other priests and priestesses who also wore the same robes had different patterns on their sleeves.

  "I just... I worry about you. This world has its own dangers."

  Through gritted teeth I whispered, "That's enough, I don't want to talk now."

  "I understand. Just..." Althea hesitated. "...when you're ready, let me know."

  Grip on my wrist loosened. The mark glowed faintly. Almost vulnerable. "You're the only connection I have to this world, Leonard. Don't leave me out."

  Evadne was coming back, but Althea's words echoed in my mind.

  *What did she mean by that?*

  *I didn't reflect much on her situation before, occupied by my own thoughts.*

  *A Guide. A sealed spirit. Or...?*

  "They don't feed people anymore at the temple?" boomed from behind me, cutting through the general clamor of the hall.

  I spun around, my eyes meeting a mountain of a man—no, not a man, a mountain—sitting at the next table surrounded by others of his caliber. His grin was wide and mocking, his friends covering their mouths to hold back laughter.

  They wore simple clothes made of thick material with a thin weave. A fist, an armored gauntlet embroidered on their chests. A hand held the pommel of the sword, its blade pointing down.

  *I just found myself in another world and each welcome I get has its own distinct taste.*

  *Now I met a bully.*

  Memories of the void came back—the glaring net of eyes, the terror of nothingness, the pain throughout my body.

  *This little mockery? This is nothing.*

  A small annoyance—just words, nothing more than noise.

  I turned back to my table.

  Mountain's side-kick added, "Look at him, he's like a street cat!" The supporters burst out laughing, some unintentionally spitting parts of their meal.

  *A street cat.*

  I could even like the nickname.

  *I guess it fits.*

  No reaction in the crowd despite quick glances and a few hidden whispers.

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  *The room is full of people and they pick on me?*

  I skimmed through the mess hall again. Crowded, a High Priestess just steps away—they wouldn't dare lay a hand on me, unless they were complete lunatics.

  That left words, mockery. Letting it slide was a different kind of danger. If I didn't react now, they'd pick on me forever. Inaction, submission—it's a guaranteed loss. Assertive action, however weak and unexpected, opens up possibilities.

  *What do they expect? Fear? Anger? I won't give them either.*

  I stood up and walked to their table, my eyes locked with the leader's. I pulled out a free chair and took a seat. Their laughter died immediately, and they stared at me in surprise.

  The mountain grabbed my shoulder, his grip surprisingly gentle. He leaned in. His grin switched from mockery to mischievous amusement. "Come on guys," he said to his friends, "that's not true." He looked at each of them in the eyes, then back at me. "He's a starving street cat!"

  Even I smiled at that.

  *A simple joke, but I admit—it is kinda funny.*

  The mountains began eating again, conversations returned around the table.

  The bully leaned in to me, whispering conspiratorially, "You surprised me, you didn't break under pressure or challenge our strength."

  He shook my shoulder slightly, "you took the initiative and just claimed a seat. It was a simple move, but a damn clever one. I respect that."

  The remnants of the tension in my shoulders eased. The strange praise lifted my spirit.

  "My name's Pylades," he said, and I replied simply with, "Leonard."

  He shook my shoulder one more time and was about to speak again, but then came Evadne, and all mountains went silent when they noticed her.

  Pylades loosened his grip and distanced himself from me. I was still smiling but others became serious. They bowed slightly and welcomed her respectfully, addressing her as "High Priestess."

  She pointed at the man sitting beside me and then at an empty seat at another table.

  Without a word, the man scrambled to obey, leaving a space for her. Before I realized what had happened, Evadne was sitting near me comfortably.

  Pylades and his friends looked like they were sitting on needles. They tried for serious and dignified, but their sheer size ruined the effect.

  Across the table, the mountain's grin was gone. He looked at me with curiosity and anticipation.

  My focus narrowed to Evadne when she spoke. "Here's your bowl, Leonard." Peripheral vision showed cautious glances as I reached for the food that was rightfully mine.

  But the air went out of me when I noticed the contents.

  I stared for a moment, then slumped into the chair disappointed. "What's this, High Priestess Evadne?" I pointed at the bowl. "It's some white pulp."

  My accusation made the corners of her mouth twitch, a fleeting reaction before her composure returned.

  She held back a smile and replied like nothing happened. "It's the perfect dish to strengthen your vessel."

  *No, no, where's meat?*

  "I want to eat like a normal person," I pleaded, but Evadne just said, "Your vessel is not ready yet; it's your first meal after summoning."

  Plate in the middle of the table was stacked with steaks. Like a pyramid. Potatoes, each the size of my bowl, on another. And two plates were already empty, meat juice left as only evidence.

  And my bowl? Mushed white-something. Evadne's gaze followed mine, but she stubbornly insisted, "Your vessel won't accept this food; it'll be rejected."

  I sighed deeply, slumping on the chair. I've had my share of confrontations for today.

  *It's just a meal anyway.*

  *And maybe she's right.*

  "Fine," I said.

  Pylades watched my submission, amused. Evadne's glare whipped it out of him, leaving only a neutralized expression.

  I attacked the pulp with fury, finishing it without mercy. Partially out of frustration, partially out of hunger. When the sounds of my battle faded, I leaned back in the chair and looked at everybody.

  With my stomach full, my mood surprisingly improved, but the food in my belly sent a dizziness through my exhausted body.

  The grin returned on Pylades' face. Eyes were sparking with interest and questions.

  Thinking I couldn't leave a man hanging, I asked, "So who are you?" Then I added nonchalantly, "I'm the Otherworlder."

  Pylades inhaled sharply. The others froze, forks halfway to their mouths. A collective, shocked 'Whaaat?' erupted from our table, loud enough to cut through the hall's general murmur.

  That shout was the trigger.

  The chatter at the nearest table faltered, its occupants turning to see why the mountains had suddenly gone rigid. A moment later, the table next to them noticed the spreading quiet, and their own conversation trailed off.

  Like a domino, the silence fell outward from our table, one conversation dying after another. Forks paused mid-air. Laughter cut off. Within a few moments, the roar of the mess hall had faded to a hush.

  The focus of the room fixed on us. Curiosity. Suffocating curiosity.

  My casual introduction had just turned into a major incident. Alarm flashed in Evadne's golden eyes—not at Pylades, but at the rapidly escalating situation.

  Her expression, however, remained serene, a mask of professional calm. It was unnerving.

  Pylades was the first to recover. He spoke with authority: "High Priestess,"—he gave a brief, respectful bow—"Otherworlder. I am Pylades, Centurion of these Holy Knights." His hand swept over his companions.

  "This gentleman over there"—he pointed at a sidekick seated a table away—"is my second, Optio Diomedes." The "gentleman" tried to mimic the bow, stiff as if he had swallowed a spear.

  "Pleasure is ours, Centurion," Evadne spoke calmly. She was addressing Pylades, but her words were meant for the dozens of eavesdroppers now shamelessly listening in. "As you can see, his presence is... significant. And his recovery is our utmost priority." She placed a gentle but firm hand on my shoulder. "Perhaps this conversation is best continued in a more private setting, once he is fully rested."

  My muscles tensed. Stares pinned me. The whispers had already begun to ripple back through the room. Everybody seemed to speculate frantically. Part of me wanted to stay, to push through. But another, more primal part screamed at me to get out of their net of glaring eyes.

  I stood up, following her lead. I looked everyone at the table in the eyes and said, "I look forward to our next encounter, Holy Knights. Goodbye."

  They replied with "Farewell, Otherworlder," their voices a low murmur. Pylades's grin was gone, but when Evadne turned away, he nodded slightly and added, "Get some rest, Otherworlder. That boldness of yours needs a body to match. We can work on that." Some of the other mountains gave their nod of approval.

  I managed a small smile in return, but as the distance from the knights' energy grew, so did my frustration.

  She had neutralized my blunder with surgical precision.

  She had seen the board, analyzed the threat, and made her move before I even realized we were playing.

  *What game are we playing, exactly?*

  What best describes Leonard's decision to sit with the knights?