So, I'm sure you know the general gist of the story. Random first world high school student gets summoned to a magical world, goes on a life changing adventure, and returns home. There are countless variations, from the classic tale of the prophesied hero to the deconstruction where the protagonist is the dark lord.
See, the one thing all these stories have in common is that they stop there. They don't ask about what comes next. The warrior who fell in love and fought for their paramour atop the dark lord's dark tower has to deal with high school drama? The general who led armies in grand campaigns now has to fight against college applications? The hero who delved into ancient ruins has to worry about end of term tests? Stories don't explore what the hero does now that they're back in the normal world where magic is myth and anyone they tell otherwise will think they're insane. It's only natural, though. Such questions either ruin the ending themes and emotional overtones, or work better left unanswered for the reader to think about after they put the story down. But you see, in your case, those types of questions are very relevant to you in particular.
Because up until a handful of minutes ago, you were the hero of such a story, summoned far away from Earth to another world. And now you're back to your 'normal' life on 'normal' planet Earth where 'normal' things happen. You've got to find the answers to those questions yourself.
Now, here's the important question…
Who Are You?
[] The Hero of Asterea
You had several titles, Sword of Light, Ebonsbane, but that one was the most encompassing. After all it was the whole reason you were summoned; to save the continent of Asterea from the Dark Lord whose armies were sweeping across its lands. It was a long, hard fight. The bonds of friendship were forged and tested in the fires of battle and hardship. You almost failed at more than one point, but the skills of your friends pulled you through. Anyone who said it was a perfect victory was lying through their teeth. But, in the end it was worth it. You gathered a band of lifelong friends, found the seven sacred relics, and sealed the Dark Lord was away for good (you made sure of that last bit). Then it was over, and you were back here on Earth, sitting in the kitchen, with a family you hadn't seen in years staring at you as your once again brown hair bleached away from the holy magic bleeding out of you.
-Typical adventurer who was the leader of a small group of companions that went on a great quest across the continent to defeat the evil Dark Lord. Has a lot of battle experience and excels at directing small groups. Is bonded the Legendary Sword Eanar and is a user of Astrean Healing Magic, Astrean Shield Magic, or Astrean Light Magic.
[] The Reincarnation of Draschal Edolin
Everyone called you that, but few among the people who mattered actually believed it. It took you a while to realize that to the nobility of Dolinar, a once mighty fallen empire, actually hoped you weren't the reincarnation of their legendary founder. After all, it's easier to justify wars of reclamation if the King in the Mountain is the one leading the charge, and it's easier to direct those wars if the leader wasn't actually the King in the Mountain. Too bad no one told you or Draschal Edolin that. Not only did you restore the empire better than they could have hoped for, you also went to work purging the deep corruption that had taken root. It was a long, thankless task, but when all was said and done, the Empire of Dolinar was once more dominant, you had reclaimed the tools and legacy of your past life, and no one doubted your power or right to rule. It's weird being back on Earth without any of that legitimacy or reputation.
-A reincarnated hero who has gone through most of the identity crisis such a nature involves. Is very experienced with handling large scale campaigns, diplomatic issues, and delegating. Has the memories of a past life to help patch over anything that might be missed, and is a user of Dolinic Steel Magic, Dolinic Soul Magic, or Dolinic Weapon Magic.
[] The First Captain of the Bannerwall Mercenary Company
Honestly, you're still not sure why you ended up in Korrosp. You weren't summoned by any big ritual and you didn't fulfill any great prophecy. Falia speculated that it wasn't purposeful and you had just 'fallen' through a hole in space-time, a freak accident of circumstances. Regardless of why though, you still wound up in a country neck deep in a five-way civil war. If the Bannerwall hadn't taken you in as one of their own, you shudder to think what would have happened. Not everyone was happy with the taking you in bit, but by the time First Captain Torrhic had shoved his bloodied helm of office into your hands with his last breath, no one really cared. Under your leadership the Company were the ones who finally brought an end to that entire shitty war, and everyone was happy with that. Then as you were figuring out what to do next, you found the portal back home, one thing led to another, and you were back at bording school, no weapon, no armor, and your family far away on another world.
-A mercenary who spent most of their time just trying not to die and earn a living. Learned how to fight, not piss off customers, handle funds, and everything else involved with being part of a Mercenary Company. Is a user of Korrospic Weapon Magic, Korrospic Fire Magic, or Korrospic Divination Magic.
[] The Bane of Shaderain
The worst thing about being suddenly summoned to another world without even a by-your-leave? Your summoner getting killed immediately afterwards as the Shadow's forces break into his hideout and slaughter everyone there. His two surviving apprentices managed to grab you and run, but it was a near thing. What was cool was hiding right under its nose in Shaderain's chaotic underbelly, where no-one could find you. You spent that time learning the ins-and-outs of assassination and demon hunting. The nobles of the capital city had no idea what hit them, and in only a year you had turned things completely on their head. Course, you only got that far because the Shadow itself had been away. But hey, that had given you more than enough time to build up a network of allies and contacts throughout the Fallenlands. And in the end, it didn't matter how powerful you were if there was always a knife waiting for the slightest opening. Now you're back, although you're not sure if that's quite right. Maybe it's a trick? Some deception of the Shadow's meant to get your guard down?
-A master assassin and demon hunter used to dissembling. Spent a lot of time in the evil empire, knows how to distinguish the evil from the desperate, and how to most efficiently wage guerrilla warfare. User of Fallenland Alchemy Magic, Fallenland Light Magic, or Fallenland Dark Magic.
[] The Scourge of Vornel
You hate the name, but the races that summoned you often got such titles, why would you be any different? Even if every government of every Vornel nation your troops ran over was rotten down to its core, you'd still razed them to the ground to be replaced with your own. The fact that your entire army had been made up out of the continent's 'monstrous' populations hadn't helped either. But really, what were you supposed to do? They'd summoned you as a last ditch effort to avoid genocide. Not your fault that the elf, dwarf, and human kingdoms had all been a bunch of racist assholes. It's not like you used unholy or evil magics or anything like that. Hell, the gods of your people, who you actually got to talk to, made it very clear what would happen if you did. But your enemies, damn them, figured out your nature and managed to send you back to Earth before the war was over. And now you're very worried about the state your people are in.
-The 'Evil Overlord' who led a revolution to save the Orc, Satyr, Centaur, and Kobold races. Knows how to establish a large organization and kingdom while waging war, but only has some direct combat experience. User of Vornel Warrior Magic, Vornel Wyld Magic, or Vornel Lord Magic.
[] The Harbinger of Nature
Nature's great, really. Trees with roots that dug deep into the earth. Waterfalls that plunged roaring over the side of cliffs for hundreds of feet. Mountains tearing at the cloud-covered skies like hungry fangs. Animals of strength, power, and beauty unlike anything seen on Earth. It took you a while to appreciate the sheer majesty of Pryheren, but your partner was patient with you, and you slowly grew into your role, your duty. The world had been sick and dying, killed by rotted nature from within. Pryheren had fought against the Infestation for centuries, human and ent and elf and spirit-beast working together as one. You were the one that turned the tide, you and your partner finding the secret that saved the supercontinent from extinction. Next you knew you were back home, in your family's tiny little apartment, the walls too small for the soul-bonded spirit beast that was your partner, looming over you, your aunt, and your uncle.
-A beast-master type hero who fought against a land corrupted by evil and came out the victor. Has a soul-bonded spirit-beast companion accompanying and is their closest ally and protector. User of Pryheren Rain Magic, Pryheren Cleansing Magic, or Pryheren Song Magic. Companion species to be decided in the next vote.
[] The Navigator of the Silversail
Maegerdol was a strange, dangerous land full of terrible creatures that no one would want to face. In the three hundred and fifty years since the Collapse, the many cities that had made up the continent-spanning United League had fallen far from their glory days. Nations and city-states desperately squabbled over limited resources, hoarding what few treasures remained even as thousands of mechanical and biological horrors ran rampant through the wild and untamed no man's lands. The Silversail was one of the few remaining skyships from that old era, and its crew were renowned mercenaries and explorers plumbing the secrets of the old world from the depths. It was the skill of its captain that led you to victory, but it was the skill of the entire crew that kept it free and strong. You were proud to serve as a part that crew while you did, even as you searched for the twin to the teleporter machine that had brought you to Maegerdol in the first place.
-An adventurer from a post-post apocalyptic steampunk world who served on a skyship for many years. Went on several different adventures with a crew of plucky almost-pirates and delved deep into ancient ruins. User of Maegeric Trasport Magic, Maegeric Wind Magic, or League Circuit Magic.
[X] The Reincarnation of Draschal Edolin
[X] Girl
[X] Lucy Fair
Ah Dolinar, the ancient empire of history. Formed seven hundred years ago by Draschal of the house Edolin, it was a mighty thing that was home to all sorts of people. The Imperial Armies were strong and numerous, patrolling the borders and policing the provinces. Noble families ruled their fiefs with skill and wisdom, promoting the sciences and building infrastructure so that their people could prosper. Then the barbarian hordes began to press against the edges, and after one fatal mistake that saw the Imperial Family dead and gone, Dolinar began its slow decline. Court politics became vicious and self centered as everyone began to look out for themselves, blackmailing, plotting, and colluding to squeeze out every advantage they could. Nepotism and corruption rotted the wood of the armies and turned them into weak, useless things. Infrastructure crumbled as vassals broke away and claimed independence for themselves.
In the end, it was the very embodiment of the Vestigial Empire, and you were its last hope.
What kind of ruler were you?
[] The Warlord
Dolinar had a hundred different enemies, from old enemies with a grudge to former vassals looking to expand their power. Those enemies need to be either put down or assured of what would happen if they attacked your lands. You reforged the Imperial Army from the ground up, rewarding the competent and discarding the useless. The nobles could keep their political intrigue and backroom dealings, because when all was said and done, true power laid in the military apparatus you had made. Land was awarded to every soldier, and the commanders who led well were given rights and authority. All of it assured that the armies would be strong and powerful, bound to the will and welfare of the Imperial Family.
Draschal's memories of war and battle had been useful in the extreme, advising you in your campaigns and speeding your study of the Empire's war magic in the extreme. No one could best you in the field or in the duel.
Primary: Dolinic Weapon Magic, focused on summoning and enhancing weapons, and improving various martial endeavours.
Secondary: Dolinic Soul Magic, focused on recalling memories and inspiring your followers.
[] The Sovereign
Fallen as far as it had, tradition and ceremony still held a lot of weight in the higher courts of Dolinar. They were as much your tools as your armies and bureaucracies in bringing the corrupt nobility to heel. With the cloaks of prophecy, politics, and diplomacy, you swayed as many to your side as you could and cut out those too power hungry or conceited to change their ways. You were the King in the Mountain come again, and everyone knew it. They called you the Lionesse for the noble glory you bore, and the vassals who had once ambitiously broken away now begged to be brought back into the fold. The battles you fought were few, but each of them were legendary.
The ghost of Edolin walked by your side into battle, guarding your flank and giving wise advice. Your warriors stood strong beneath your banner and never broke, while your enemies cowered before you and fled the field.
Primary: Dolinic Soul Magic, focused on interacting with you past life and influencing the emotions of both friend and foe.
Secondary: Dolinic Steel Magic, focused on enchanting yourself and objects.
[] The Autarch
Everyone had expected you to restore the empire in a conventional fashion. To retake lost lands and increase the power of the nobility. While you certainly restored the Empire, you did it in a way no one expected. You forged alliances with former vassals, promising legitimacy in exchange for trade and friendship. Instead of expanding the military, it was pruned and focused, hard to defend land abandoned or traded away to future allies. You focused the border around easily entrenched choke points and built mighty fortresses around them. Sites of culture, tradition, and noble power were uprooted and exploited for valuable goods, elevating the merchant families up into the realm of politics. Political infighting and civil strife broke out across the empire and was cleansed. While some could say Dolinar became lesser for your efforts, its borders became strong and its foundations became stable.
Draschal Edolin was some help in your efforts, but as time passed his emotions and thoughts never truly grew present in your mind. You always wondered whether he'd approve of your efforts to change his empire.
Primary: Dolinic Steel Magic, focused on imbuing objects with permanent enchantments and people with temporary enhancements.
Secondary: Dolinic Weapon Magic, focused on summoning and using weapons.
-------------
A harsh, unnatural buzz filled the air, snapping you awake. Move. You tumbled out of the small, unfamiliar bed you had been sleeping in, hands groping for a dagger that wasn't there. You took in your surroundings in an instant, crouching low to the blue wool rug. Four pastel pink walls covered in glossy pictures with no hidden corners for enemies to hide in. Lacquered wooden bookcase filled with various sundry by the single door. White curtains pulled closed across a wide window, with a small desk and chair in front of it. Tall dresser just big enough for an assassin to hide in, only an inch of space between the single-person bed and the floor.
You froze in place as you realized where you were. You old room back on Earth. The sundry on the bookcase were mementos from seventeen years of life, the glossy pictures were posters of One Direction and the Backstreet Boys. You hadn't seen the stuffed animals on your bed in thirteen years. Rising to your feet, you padded towards the window and flicked the curtains aside. A black sedan trundled down the street, under the bright green canopy of spring trees. Just yesterday you had been staring out your window at a capital covered in snow.
A fist banged against the bedroom door, loudly. "Hey Lucy!" a boy shouted, "Dad says to turn off your alarm and get ready! School's in an hour!"
You blinked for a moment before realizing the unnatural buzz, your alarm clock, was still going strong. After shutting it off you sat down on the bed, your bed, as the weight of realization hit you like a train. You weren't in Dolinar anymore. No palace full of servants and guards and courtiers. No city full of commonfolk struggling to survive through the harsh winter.
Your eyes fell on the picture on your desk, a framed photo of you, your dad, and your little brother Max. You were back.
Your hands clamped down over your mouth as a sob rose to your lips. You were back on Earth. Back home, with a family you hadn't seen in forever. Emotions whirled inside your chest, and one in particular rose to prominence.
What emotion was it?
[] Relief
[] Confusion
[] Happiness
[] Fear
[] Greif
[] Write-in (one word emotion please)
Yet again you'd been pulled away from everything without even an explanation. It was all gone; the kingdom you had spent thirteen years rebuilding and reuniting, the wars you had fought, the friends and enemies you had made. Come morning Lilith would be distraught when she found out you were missing. She'd get the entire palace staff looking for you. Panic, pandemonium, what if the border states broke away again? And Gareth, oh gods Gareth would be besides himself with worry and fear.
But that had been Max just outside the door, just as bratty as you remembered him. And Dad had to be downstairs, making breakfast and getting ready for work. Sweet gods when was the last time you had actually thought you'd be able to see them again? This couldn't be real, could it?
Peace, a ghostly hand touched your shoulder, and you forced out an uneven breath. Things are as they are, Lucy. You smiled at the familiar words, turning to the apparition hanging at your side. He was indistinct, a pale shade that was little more than a torso with arms and a head, outlined by wisps of blue light flickering like candle flames. You took comfort in his presence all the same. "At least one friend is still with me."
Indeed I am, Draschal said, responding to her thoughts. Why you have been returned can be addressed later, but for now you should see to your family. You've missed them for a long time, after all.
You nodded, sitting up straight and squaring your shoulders. You had no idea what was going on, but your family was right there, just down the stairs, and you wanted to see them. Wiping the tears from your eyes, you stepped out of your bedroom and walked down to the first floor. The plush carpet sunk underneath your bare feet, soft and yielding and achingly familiar. The walls were painted a soft grey, and the sound of a skillet shifting on top of a gas stove filled the air.
"...get her again? It's not my fault she's always so slow," Max rounded the door to the kitchen just as you hit the first floor, coming face to face with you. You looked the fourteen year old over, taking in features you hadn't seen in what felt like forever. Blue eyes and brown hair, pinchable cheeks that still had baby fat... Had he always been as tall as he was? You remember him being shorter.
"Oh, you came down already," Max turned around towards the kitchen. "Nevermind Dad, she's he-ack!" He cut off as you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into the tightest hug you could. "Ack! Dad help, help! Lucy's trying to crush my chest!" You don't pay attention to his words, instead focusing on the fact that your little brother was right here in front of you. This is what you do with siblings you haven't seen in a long time, right? You hug them with all you strength. You tried to lift him up off the ground, but your arms were weaker than you remembered and it didn't last.
"Well, this isn't something you see every day," a deep voice said. You looked up and saw your father standing at the door. The tall, well muscled firefighter looked way too domestic with his white t-shirt and pink cooking smock. "If you're feeling that lively this morning, maybe you can let your brother go so we can eat breakfast?"
"Uh, yeah, sure," you say, smiling. Max pulled away from your arms and ducked back into the kitchen, with you following after him. The kitchen table was familiar, old and battered and stained just like you remembered. None of the chairs matched, but that was okay because only your family used them. Yours was the wooden armchair, the creaky one with a short leg that had to be propped up with an old dictionary.
This is how things went for you back then, right? Before you were summoned to Dolinar and got a crash course in politics, your mornings were you sitting at the breakfast table and eating with your family.
"So Max," Dad said, pulling the skillet from the stove and doling out the servings. "Anything big happening at school today?" He slid two rashers of bacon and a sunny-side up egg onto your plate as Max answered. You pick up the masterwork fork (made by mass production, you remind yourself) and begin to eat your food. The egg is still warm and runny, the edges are burnt, and it's been liberally coated in salt. This was so different from the meals you've had for the past thirteen years. At the palace you'd either be in your small hall discussing strategy with your advisors or in the feasting hall being briefed on whatever the latest emergency was. If you were on campaign it would be much the same only in a cramped tent full of too many people. In both cases servants would be running every which way bearing trays of food and jugs of water.
Dad said something, and you're shaken from your thoughts. "I'm sorry, could you say that again?"
"The test later today," he said. "You feeling up for it?"
"Yeah, I am," you say. You do remember studying for it, the night before you were summoned to Dolinar. But you don't even remember what subject it was for, let alone the material. You look down at your almost empty plate, there's only half a rasher left. You don't even remember eating what was there. Were you that lost in thought?
"Um, I'm gonna go shower," you say, shoving the last bit of bacon into your mouth as you flee the table. You almost missed the look Max and Dad trade with each other, but caught it as you fled up the stairs to the bathroom.
You close the bathroom door behind you a breath out an uneasy sigh. Definitely acted strange back there. But what were you supposed to do? You haven't interacted with them in forever, and you have all these tangled up thoughts inside eating away at you. You can be forgiven for not instantly adjusting back to the way things were, right? A ragged sigh escaped your lips as you stripped out of your pink pajamas (why were you so obsessed with the color?) and stepped into the shower, turning the knob all the way. At the very least the palace had had pipes of running water, so that was one thing you were still used too. Then the water turned scalding and you let out a panicked squeak.
Hot! Hot hot hot! You fumbled for the handle even as you tried to get out of the stream of HOT water. You grabbed the knob and turned it back down to a more sane temperature, and leaned against the wall, your breath easing.
Although, you supposed, there was a difference between a wood burning stove meant to provide for an entire palace and a dedicated water boiler.
The shower was relaxing. The warm water pounded away at the crown of your head as you kneaded shampoo into short brown hair and rubbed soap on to unblemished skin. You had forgotten what it was like to not have long hair or scars running across your sides. In battled you kept it in a tight bun beneath your helmet, but otherwise the long flowing braid played to the image the court had of you. It was another new thing to get accustomed to, but it gave you a place to start.
You couldn't go to school today, that was out of the question. Not only was there the test you had absolutely no memory of, there was the fact that you wouldn't be able to keep up a front for long. You needed time to remember the social customs and forms of address to your teachers and classmates. If you were lucky you'd get away with it, but Amanda and Jen would definitely realize something was wrong. And they were your friends, so it isn't like they'd accept being brushed off either.
There was a gentle knock at the door. "Lucy," Dad said, his voice muffled by the wood. "If you don't feel up to taking the test today and want to study some more, I can call the school and tell them that you are sick today. I don't mind, and the school should let you make up for it later."
"N-," You bite off the instinctive refusal that rose to your lips and breathed out a breath. He thought you just needed more time to study. Play to that, a bit of shame and hesitance would go a ways to convincing him. "Y-yeah, that would be nice. Thanks, Dad."
"It's what I'm here for, sweetie," Dad said. "Me and Max are going to be heading out in a bit. If there's anything you want to talk about when get back, let me know."
And that was the question, wasn't it? What do you tell, and to whom. You could go back to the way things were before, pretend nothing had happened and just let the memories and experience wash away like water under a bridge. Draschal would always be by your side, but you wouldn't part from his presence even if you could. A part of you rebelled at the idea of locking it all away, of forgetting. What had happened in Dolinar was real, and none of it should be lost. But if you told anyone about it, your life would be different from then onwards. The life you had before would be gone. And if went public with your magic and performed it in front of people, you would get sucked right back into the mire of intrigue that is politics. You were good at the game, no question, but you didn't want to spend the rest of your life as a celebrity and object of interest, dancing around reporters and government agents. That would be you life if you went public.
You shook your head, splattering water against the curtain. You could think about whether or not you'd go public with anything. The current problem is what are you going to tell your family. Because what you do and don't tell them is certainly going to change your relationship with them.
What to explain right away to Dad and Max? Note that just because you don't tell them now doesn't mean you can't tell them more in the future.
[] Nothing. What happened in Dolinar is over with. It's done, there's nothing more to talk about.
[] Minimal. They deserve some explanation, so you'll tell them that magic is real and give an overview of what happened to you, but no details.
[] Details. They're your family, so they deserve to know. You'll tell them about Draschal, about the people you met, and about how you rebuilt Dolinar. But the big things are private, personal. They don't need to know about the friends who died. Or about Gareth. Or Lishtha.
[x] Minimal. They deserve some explanation, so you'll tell them that magic is real and give an overview of what happened to you, but no details.
AN: Huh, glad I left it to a vote at that point, was sure that SB would unanimously want to bring them in on the secret. This way is more fun!
You know, you remember the internet being much more helpful than it seems to be right now. You didn't expect a 'how to tell your family that you're magic' guide or anything like that, but after four of hours google searches you expected better results. After several hours wasted looking at role-playing forums, blogs from people who were just good at writing (the inconsistencies in their stories were the give away), and news articles on people who might or might not be insane, you had stepped away from your computer with a whole lot of nothing. Best piece of advice you could find was that just waiting and not saying anything would make things work.
So, here you were, sitting in the living room across from your brother and father, the evening sunlight pouring in through the windows, knowing you had to say something, but with little idea how to do it.
It was frustrating, the lack of control and certainty. It reminded you of those first few years in Dolinar, when you were an inexperienced girl stumbling about as the nobles led you around by the nose. Everyone just saw you as a figurehead to be manipulated towards their goals. That changed after you got the servants on your side. The information they had let you play the courtiers against each other, getting everyone to dance to your tune instead of you to theirs. You were the one with the cards, the one who understood how the various players would react to what you told them. But now, you're lost again. You haven't seen Max or Dad in thirteen years, by your recogning. You don't even remember what your relationship with them was like, let alone know what it is now. Would they think you were crazy, or just pulling their leg? Four Hells, where do you even start?
Start from the beginning, Draschall said, his voice echoing in your head. Convince them that magic is real, and the rest shall follow from there.
You nodded, and folded your hands in your lap. You took a breath to prepare yourself, and squared your shoulders. "This is going to be strange, to both of you, but please let me say everything before you start asking questions. First off, magic is real."
They both blinked at that, and an incredulous smile spread across Max's face. "Seriously? What, are you gonna tell us can conjure a ball of fire or something?"
You reach forward and grab a napkin from the coffee table, whispering a quiet "Durrham," while cycling your mana. The spell flows through your fingers and into the paper, strengthening and solidifying it. You bang the now hardened piece of paper on the table, and it makes an audible thunk. Both of your family members are stunned, and you hand it over for their inspection. It doesn't bend no matter what Max does, but when Dad takes it he grips both sides and places his thumbs in the center. A quick jerk of his wrists and the napkin cleanly splits in half, and now he's holding two pieces of hardened paper. You release the spell all the same, and a moment later the mana dissipates into the air, the paper softening.
"Fireballs aren't really my thing," you say, giving a soft smile.
Dad puts the napkin pieces down and steeples his hands in front of his face. "Explain," he says after a moment, face unreadable.
"Let me give you an overview first," you say, keeping your voice steady. "Last night, I was targeted by a summoning ritual from the kingdom of Dolinar on the world of Karas. The people who performed the ritual thought it would summon who was a descendent of their founder, but it wound up targeting his reincarnation instead. That was me. The reason they cast the ritual was that they needed someone to help stop the eventual fall of their kingdom and help reclaim lost lands. For me, that was thirteen years ago, and I did most of that. I was their queen, and a pretty good one by all accounts. Then, last night, I woke up back here, in my seventeen year old body."
Admittedly, that wasn't the best way you could have put it, but a brief rundown was better than nothing, right? The silence hangs in the air, and you have to struggle not to fidget. Maybe you should've walked them through things better, gone into more detail, instead of just dumping it all on them. No, things would have dragged on if you had done that, and things would have gotten even more complex.
It was Max who broke the silence first. "So, you're saying that you're the rightful ruler of an entire country? Like, Arthur Pendragon or Frederick I? Like, the whole 'true king come again' kind of thing? Or, queen in this case." You nod, unable to suppress your smile. Max had always had a thing for history and myth, so you weren't surprised he got that.
"Cool," he whispers, grinning.
"You said that you were there for thirteen years," Dad says, hands still steepled. "But I saw you last night just before you went to bed. You were complaining to me about studying for the math test."
"I know," you say. "I, Dolinar doesn't have a lot of research on that kind of magic, but I do have some idea of how it works at least. As far as I can tell, there are multiple 'realities,' like, different worlds layered on top of eachother. It's not multiverse theory or anything like that. It's more like what fantasy and sci-fi TV uses to explain stuff. Time doesn't pass linearly between them, so it can be weird at times. It's more of a ball of wibbly-wobbly stuff than anything else. Just because thirteen years passed on Karas doesn't mean that thirteen years passed here on Earth."
Dad closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is all a bit much. I, I don't have any real choice but to believe you on the magic thing. That was proof enough," he points at the paper napkin sitting on the table. "But...I'm not so sure about the getting summoned to another world. I mean, that's just..." he huffed out a laugh, unable to finish the sentence.
You bristled at his words. "I'm not lying to you. I was there, I-"
He held his hand, cutting you off. He breathed out through his nostrils, his body shifting into a more stern, authoritarian posture. It was the posture parents took when they wanted to be in control. "I believe you think you're telling the truth, but that doesn't meant it actually happened."
Your lips pinched together into a thin line, back straightening. "Considering how ten minutes ago you didn't even know magic was real, maybe you shouldn't be making assumptions about what is and isn't possible. Do I need to describe the Marble Palace to you? Or how about the Grass Seas? They make up the northern border between Dolinar and Ahklham, and are covered in Tallgrass as far as the eye can see. You can ride for days and see nothing but fields of yellowed stalks spreading out in every direction unless you're near a river. The seas are home to dozens of nomadic tribes, each with their own histories and customs, and if you're not careful-"
"Okay, okay!" Dad says, throwing up his hands. "You're my daughter, and I should be supporting you in this. I'm sorry," he sighed, and meets your gaze. His eyes aren't blue like yours and Max's, they're brown. It's the only the only physical trait you got from your mother. "I'm sorry. It's just...you're saying I've missed thirteen years of your life. I've only just started looking out for boys you're interested in, and now you're telling me that you've skipped right past that. I don't have to worry about grandchildren, right?" The grin on his face is joking, but you can see the seriousness in it.
"No, no grandchildren," you said, returning the smile. You don't mention how you'd been hoping for that to change. You weren't even sure if you were ever going to tell them about Gareth or not.
"So, what are you gonna do now?" Max said, interjecting back into the conversation. "I mean, you're still pretty lame, even with magic, but don't tell me your lame enough to just pretend you're normal for the rest of your life?"
You breath out a laugh, sitting back in your seat. "I've spent enough time in the center of public attention for two worlds. Not really sure I want to go public with my magic. But no, I don't think I'm going to pretend it isn't a thing. It's too integral to big a part of who I am." That was putting it mildly. Depending on how you looked at it, you were technically haunted for the rest of your life. Of course, since you and Draschal shared the same soul it was more like he was just a part of you that you didn't have complete control over, it didn't really work out like that. Best you could do was stay out of the public eye and not draw attention.
"Are you going to try to find a way back to Dolinar?" Max asked, "Could we come with? I mean, it'd be pretty wicked to the brother of royalty. I'd get to order servants around and do whatever I want. Hel-heck," he glanced at Dad, who eyed him at the near curse. "I could serve in your army. How cool would that be?"
"I'm not sure," you said. "I have no idea how I wound up here again, let alone how to go back. The summoning ritual is finicky at the best of times, and I'm not sure if it would work again."
"Well, regardless," Dad said, rising to his feet. "Whatever you decide to do with your future, the present also needs tending to. Tomorrow's Saturday, so you've got the weekend at least, but you need to think about what to do in the short-term. How about I make some cheesy chicken and pasta as a welcome home dish, is that still a favorite of yours?"
"Actually, yeah," you say, smiling. "Pastas weren't really a big thing in Dolinar. I think I would like some."
"Well, there you go," Dad said, walking towards the kitchen as Max ran after him. You followed after them, trying not to think about how the smile on your dad's face had looked a little forced. It was only natural after all, to be uncertain about all these new developments.
What are Lucy's goals for the weekend? (Pick Two)
[] Spend time with your friends, Ammanda and Jen. They sent some worried texts to you when they heard you were sick, but you've only responded with perfunctory messages. You don't remember everything about them, but there's really only one way to fix that.
[] Spend time reconnecting with your family. They both took it well all things considered, but maybe spending some time with them would be good for both of you.
[] Brush up on your school work to make sure you know what's what. You have a math test you'll need to study for, and doubtless your knowledge for the other subjects has faded a bit.
[] Tap back into the news feeds. If there's one thing you learned in Dolinar, it's how valuable having information can be. Even if you don't expect anything to come out of it, it's worth keeping an ear to the ground.
What is Lucy's long term goal, the end result she wants to achieve, no matter how unlikely (Pick One).
[] Find a way back to Dolinar and back to the life you have there. You don't think you'll ever be able to go back, you're not even sure if it's possible or not. But if you had to choose between your life on Karas and your life here on Earth, you know which one you would choose.
[] Work on having as normal a life as possible. Your time in Dolinar is over. While you're not sure you would've wanted to make the break, it's been made, and it's time to move on. Best to just try and get back to who you were before.
[] Make a new life here on Earth. You won't ever be able to return to who you were before you were summoned to Dolinar, but considering all the magics you know, going back to that world seems just as unlikely. You can't return to who you were, but you can at least forge a new identity for yourself. A magic user in a world without magic.
[] write-in, subject to approval.
A/N: Sorry this took so long, family slowed me down a bit, and I needed to work on my outline for the quest's future (it's still so barebones though ;_; )
[X] Spend time reconnecting with your family. They both took it well all things considered, but maybe spending some time with them would be good for both of you.
[X] Brush up on your school work to make sure you know what's what. You have a math test you'll need to study for, and doubtless your knowledge for the other subjects has faded a bit.
[X] Make a new life here on Earth. You won't ever be able to return to who you were before you were summoned to Dolinar, but considering all the magics you know, going back to that world seems just as unlikely. You can't return to who you were, but you can at least forge a new identity for yourself. A magic user in a world without magic.
You let out a frustrated groan, leaning back in your chair and away from the evil papers laid out on the dining room table. You kneaded your brow to ease the tension, collecting your thoughts. The clock said it was just past one in the afternoon, which meant you'd been studying for five hours. Not the worst workload you've had, administering a growing empire could be a nightmare, but that didn't make it easier. Saturdays used to be your break day. Math had been tricky, but in the end trigonometry was pretty straight forward. All of the numbers were solid and concrete, with none of the uncertainties involved in logistics or tax collections. Same for physics. The real problem was with French. It was just so, different from what you were used to, full of gendered words and with a structure that, at times, didn't make sense. And so many letters had different pronunciations even though they used the same alphabet.
It gave you a new appreciation for the headaches you had never had to deal with on Dolinar.
"Having trouble remembering how to parlez-vu Francis, blondie?" Max asked, sitting down across from you with his own textbooks.
"'Parlez-vous Francais'," you say, pinching the bridge of your nose. "And yes, I am. On Karas, everyone spoke Dolinic, so there was no need to learn another language. For that, I'm grateful."
"Pfft, yeah right. I'm not dumb enough to buy that one language covered an entire globe."
You glared at the cheeky smile he's giving you, seriously tempted to reach over and bop him on the head. "You know what I meant. Dolinar had been the power in the area for near seven hundred years; if it wasn't a country's native language you can be sure it was their trade language. Everyone important spoke it, and in Dolinar it was all people spoke."
"Seriously?" he asked, unfolding his history book. Looked like it was on the World Wars. "The nobles didn't use foreign languages as a way to one up each other? They're normally all over that."
"Please," You scoff. "Dolinar's nobility were a bunch of pompous as- jerks, obsesed with the lost glory and prestige of the Empire. Speaking another language was seen as lacking integrity and pride. Actually worked to my advantage, one less thing I needed to do to gain respect." Although, Hrammic had been creeping into the western fringes as the families with strong trade connections to Hramaya grew in power. You had always meant to look into that, once all the fires had been put out. Now it looks like you never will.
Max looked at her for a few moments, before looking down at his book. The conversation over, you leaned forwards to dive back into the confusing world of French. For a few minutes, the two of you sat there in comfortable silence.
"What was it like?" Max asked, breaking the quiet. You quirked an eyebrow at him, and a flush crept onto his face. "Being Queen, I mean. Ruling an entire kingdom couldn't have been easy, especially for you."
You cradle your chin in the palm of your hand, thinking on it. You spent thirteen years wrangling Dolinar back into some semblance of order. How did you describe that? "You know how a lot of stories get to the hero reclaiming their throne and then end? As if getting there was the hard part was getting there? Well let me tell you, that's easy. The hard part is fixing all the problems without getting everyone pissed off at you."
Max tilted his head to the side, and you smiled. "Everyone knew there were problems with the Empire and wanted someone to fix it, but they all expected to not be hurt by the process. The barons and counts all wanted me to finance the army and protect their lands, but didn't want me to stop them from skimming off the taxes they owed. The dukes and marqueses wanted me to reclaim lost lands and then leave all leave the actual ruling to them. Everyone wanted me to marry into what was left of the Imperial Family, but then not use the authority it gave me. It was like herding a pack of cats who wanted to be dogs."
"Marry?" Max asked, sitting up straight. Oh dear, you hadn't meant to say that. "You mean they forced you into a political marriage? Was he hot?" Quick, damage control, damage control!
You smiled at you brother, the kind you used in negotiations to make someone think you were letting them in on a secret. "Oh, he was decent looking enough." Hah! "But it's hard to force a girl to marry someone when she's has enough proof of corruption to strip you of all your lands and titles if you push her too far." Of course, by that point you'd been more than willing to marry Gareth, even without the boost it gave to your legitimacy.
It took a moment for Max to understand the implication, but he let out a snort when he did. "God interacting with you is so weird now."
"Oh? How so?" Topic successfully diverted!
"That right there!" He said, throwing out his hands. "You're so confident now, so...able. You haven't risen to any of my ribbing and aren't defensive at all. You're even studying during your free time! It's like, like you're a completely different person or something, and I have no idea how to handle that."
You blink in confusion. Defensive? Had you really been that insecure about your own abilities? Your memories about what life on Earth used to be like weren't the clearest, but you do remember getting angry at Max for a lot of things. And the assignments shoved into your folders were all marked with Cs and Bs. Now that you think about it, that A you saw on the history assignment from a month ago was the only one you found. It's easy to imagine you weren't the most secure in your own abilities.
"People change," you say, shrugging. "I spent thirteen years making backroom deals with corrupt nobles, arranging military campaigns, and studying magic. I had to rise to the challenge if I wanted any hope of not getting swept away by it all."
"I guess," Max sighed, gnawing at his lower lip. "It's just...weird." He turned back to his textbook.
"Hey," you lean forwards, placing you hand over his. "I know it's a lot to take in, but I'm still your sister. That hasn't changed."
He nodded, but didn't say anything. After a few moments, you pulled your own hand back and returned to your work as well.
-------------
Sunday morning finds you in much the same position as Saturday, only this time it's at the breakfast table. The crumbs of your breakfast litter the plate pushed off to the side, and you're nursing a cup of coffee as you review your notes for The Great Gatsby. There's not as much as you'd like, but they're enough to give you a reference point as you skim back through the tome.
"Morning, sunshine," someone says, and you glance up to see your dad standing in the doorway, hair still mussed with bedhead. "You're up early."
You glance at the clock hanging next to the stove, "It's already ten in the morning, not that early. Most work schedules start before now."
"True, but it is the weekend. Usually you like to sleep in." He walked over to the counter and swished the coffee brewer. "You made coffee?" There's a hint of disbelief in his tone as he glanced back at you.
"Mmhmm," you hum, sipping the last dregs from your mug. "Dolinar didn't have its own fields, too temperate, but we imported a plant from the southern continent which was a close analogue. It isn't the exact same, bit more spicy, but it's just as much a stimulant as coffee. You might want to reheat that though, it's been a few hours."
"Yeah, you're right," he said, pouring what was left into a mug of his own and placing it into the microwave. Convenient that. Steel mages were good for a lot of stuff, but automatic heating wasn't something that anyone had figured out. Too energy intensive and complex.
"So, going over your schoolwork?" Dad asking, pulling his coffee out and taking a sip at it. How could he stand to drink it straight like that? It was so bitter! "Any plans to hang out with Amanda or Jen later today?"
You shake your head, making a note in the margin. "I barely remember any of my coursework. I need to go over them if I have any hope of keeping up in school."
"Smart thing to do, especially since final exams are only a month away."
"Right," you grimace, turning back to your notes as you flip to another chapter. "I forgot about those." Just wonderful, more things you need to prepare for. You'll need to make study plans, research into what your school's tests were like, and come up with notes on any surprises a teacher might throw at you. It seemed like life on Earth was not as easy as you remembered it being.
The silence hung in the air between you and Dad for a few moments, before he broke it by sitting down in his chair and glancing at your notes. "Um, Sunshine? That's not English, as far as I can tell."
You paused, glancing down at the notes you'd been scribbling in the margins before sighing in frustration. Not only had you been writing in Dolinic script, which was all hard angles and straight lines, but you'd been using the shorthand you and your close advisors had developed so as to prevent casual spying. You could read it just fine, a bonus of being so intune with your past life, but if anyone looked at your book they'd immediately know something was up. Not exactly staying below notice.
"Going to need to rewrite the last two hours of work," you grumble to yourself, flipping back through the book's pages to find that, yes, all your notes were written in the shorthand. Wonderful. You are a master of stealth.
"Is it that big a deal?" Dad asked. "Not a lot of people are going to be looking at your book, are they?"
"English classes involve a lot of group work, especially when it comes to review," you say. "And we have to share books whenever someone forgets theirs. So unless I want to constantly explain away a script that doesn't exist on Earth, it is that big a deal. Don't want more people to know about Dolinar."
"Why?" Dad asks, his tone too casual. You glance up, and he's sitting back in his chair, hands folded across his chest. His body's relaxed, casual even. But unlike you he hasn't spent years navigating through the Imperial Court. Something's nagging at him, but you're not sure what. "Was Dolinar really that bad?"
"What? No, no," you shake your head, a smile crossing your face. "Dolinar was a wonderful place, I wouldn't trade it for the world. It's just, any convincing explanation wouldn't stay secret for long. Before I knew it the media would be on me and I'd make international news." You fiddle with your empty mug, looking at the bits of hardened sugar sitting on the bottom. "I've spent more than enough time in the spotlight. For now at least, I want to live without all the attention."
Your dad eyes you for a few minutes, before nodding. "Alright, if you're-" he's not looking as he reaches for his mug, and his fingers scrape against the side. That sends it tumbling over the edge and crashing to the floor. Dad bites off a curse as drops of coffee and shards of pottery scatter across the floor, instead letting out a frustrated growl. "Just great. Give me a moment while I go get the broom and dustpan."
"It's okay," you say, getting out of your chair and kneeling to the ground and beginning to pick up the larger pieces, "I've got something that can help." In a few moments, you've got almost the entire mug, minus a few small slivers, piled on the table. You press your finger against the pile, and whisper the spell under your breath. "Durbahl Maleneik." The pieces shift and slide against each other, pulling and restructuring until, in a few moments, the mug is sitting before you, whole and unbroken. You pick it up and hold it out to your dad, smiling. "I can't do anything about the coffee, and you might not want to put this in the microwave, but it should be good as new."
Dad reaches forward cautiously and takes the mug from you, cradling it in one big, meaty hand. "Huh, how about that," he glances at you, offering a quiet smile. "You know, if you're ever less shy about your magic, you could make a killing in repair work."
You accept the compliment for what it is, and scoff. "Please, if I did that manufacturers the world over would unionize to stop me from ruining their planned obsolescence."
As if that would stop you, Draschal whispered. Even the King of Taumun with all his armies and warbeasts couldn't intimidate you, what could a bunch of CEOs bring to bare against you? Your smile becomes more genuine at the joke, and you return to your work as Dad moves to the living room to do some reading.
-------------
"Okay you two, we're here" Dad said as the van pulled up to the curb. "You know what you're doing?" he asks you, face creased with worry.
"Of course," you say, pulling your bookbag from between your knees. You'd reviewed your schedule and the school's floor plan, so there's no risk of getting lost. "Classes from eight to eleven, then an hour of lunch, then classes again from twelve to three. You're at the station, so I'll take the bus back. It's just a day of school, I can handle that easily."
"'Easily' she says," Max mutters, hopping out of the backseat onto the sidewalk. "I'm going on ahead, don't want to get caught associating with my sister." With that, he moved joining up with the hundreds of other students streaming past into the central building.
"Okay," Dad says. "Check up on your friends, bet they have some things to say to you."
You suppress a wince and nod, hopping out of the car. You had given perfunctory text messages to your friends over the weekend, playing at being sick, but the tones of their responses made it clear that they had something they wanted to talk to you about. You still hadn't decided if you would let them in on the secret, but until you hope you could at least deflect their attention.
You make your way through the halls of the school to your locker. No one pays attention to you as you walk past, just another part of the crowd of students. To them, you're not the Lioness, noble and majestic and legendary. Hells, you don't think most of them know your name. It's an odd feeling, not being the center of attention. Just an unobtrusive drop in the bucket.
It doesn't stay that way however. You're about ten feet away from the locker when a girl steps out in front of you, deliberately blocking your path. Suddenly everyone has an excuse to be looking somewhere else, even though you can feel their attention on you. You don't recognize her face, but you easily recognize her type. She's tall, with long platinum blonde hair and a developed body that would have boys drooling over her. The makeup has been carefully applied to her face, and you wouldn't be surprised if those earrings were actual silver. She's the type of person who likes to dominate social interactions, to be at the top of the pile not for any particular reason, but just because that way she can say she was at the top. In the early years, those like her had been your strongest opponents.
"Well, look who finally decided to come back to school," the girl said, affecting an air of disinterest. "You know, because you didn't show up to school last Friday, our project report didn't get turned in. I had to talk to Mr. Cleaton and convince him to allow you to turn it in today. You'd best stop by his office before final period."
You frowned at the girl, remembering the project in question. It had been a laboratory report for Physics. If you remembered correctly, the teacher for that class chose the groups and didn't leave it for the students. The report file had been sitting in your email, completed, and you had sent it to your partner late last Thursday. The text had angrily said your partner could be the one to hand it in, since you'd done all the work yourself. Which meant this was girl was Cecile. You don't remember her, not even her face, but that wasn't surprising. After thirteen years you'd barely remembered the names and faces of your friends and family. But have a good idea what happened. Cecile probably told you to finish hand the report in yourself, or something similar. You were probably really frustrated by the end, and had decided to spite her. Now, she was putting you in your place for being so uppity.
How do you respond?
[] Apologize and promise to turn in the report some time later today.
[] Point out that you sent it to her late last Thursday night.
[] Ignore her and walk past to your locker. You'll turn the report in later, since she's obviously not going to.
[] Write-in
AN: Realized I used 'professor' in the previous post, even though this is a high school and no one calls their teachers that. Fixed.
[X] Point out that you sent it to her late last Thursday night.
Dolinar's capital, High City, had been been full of nobles who were too full of themselves. From nobles with no concrete power to their names to second and third sons and daughters meant to further family interests, the Imperial Court had been full of people whose only purpose was to keep the wheels of the Empire turning. None of them cared for the empire beyond how it furthered their own welfare, and to many you were either a tool or an obstacle. In those first few years, the social elite had been your most powerful enemies, spreading whispers behind your back or leading you about by your nose. You had been forced to play the game of politics with no training and little backing. However, you won in the end, and afterwards no one dared to speak against you for fear of retaliation.
You don't know what power Cecile is in the school's political hierarchy, but you don't care. You've played this game against tougher opponents for much higher stakes, and you're not going to back down now.
A confused frown crossed your face, but you didn't hunch your shoulders or show any other signs of deference. "Sorry? But I was sick last Friday, and I couldn't have handed the report in."
Cecile's frown deepened at the back talk. "Then you should have sent me an email with your part of the report, so that I could have turned it all in myself."
"But I did," you said. "I sent the final draft Thursday night, and mentioned that I was feeling ill and might not be at school tomorrow." The last part was a lie, but no would care about that.
"Watch yourself there, Fair," Cecile said. "It almost sounds like you're forgetting something here. I'm a model student, who does well on projects and never gets a bad grade. The report was due on Friday, and you were supposed to hand it in. Only you weren't here, and the report wasn't handed in." She stepped forwards, using her height to loom over you and force you to look up. "So obviously, I didn't get it, and since we're in this mess in the first place, it stands to reason you should be the one to fix it."
You have to suppress the grin of triumph, because now you've got her. Instead you pull out your phone and tab over to your email. One of the things about the school's email system is that you can see when your message was opened. It was intrusive, yeah, but in this case it worked to your advantage. And look at that, the message you sent her last night had been read Friday morning.
"Well then you need to read your emails more carefully," you say, making sure that everyone listening in could hear. "I know skimming messages can be a pain, but you can clearly see the report attached to my message, which you read before class." Cecile's eyes bug out at the unexpected confrontation. She thought you would fold under her intimidation and just give in, not turn things back around on her. Well, sorry sister, but you weren't done. The battle is won, and now you're making her defeat a route. "Still, I am sorry about this, and it's partially my fault, so I'll make sure to turn in the report and explain the situation to Mr. Cleaton at lunch." Like that, you've cut out her ability to argue the point further and taken away her chance to explain away the issue to the teacher. Well, unless she goes earlier, but second period is a Study Session for you, and that's when you're really going to talk to your teacher. If she presses the point, she'll just look bad in front of the students and further damage her position.
"Fine," Cecile says, glaring at you. "We'll be playing things that way then. Watch yourself, Fair." She doesn't stomp away, but you can tell she's mad. You ignore the few students staring at you and head to your locker. You fish out your books for history and stuff the rest into your locker, humming as you do. Politics may be unpleasant at the best of times, but you'd grown to like the flush of satisfaction a victory brought you.
-------------
By lunchtime word of your confrontation had spread through the student body, and everyone was eyeing you. Some of them were awed, a few conciliatory, but most were of anticipation. You'd bucked the status quo of high school, and they expected you to get knocked down. The anonymity from before was gone, and now you were someone to watch, at least for a while. Of course, there were also those who just weren't interested in the school's political infighting, but that didn't stop people from looking at you. At least while waiting in the lunchline, everyone is too hungry to look at you.
"Lucy, girl friend!" A voice calls out, and you turn to find yourself wrapped in a light hug by a girl dressed in an eye searing collection of pinks and light blues. She pulled back, and you recognized the face of Amanda, your friend since sixth grade. Her smile was way too wide and white, like it always was, and she bounced in place on the balls of her feet. "It's great to see you're not sick anymore. That's never fun. Your stomach is all churny and upset and it's like your head is a furnace because of the fever. Then there's all the shaking of your limbs and the way the way your skins get all clammy and sweaty which just leaves your sheets drenched which, blech, no thank you, and don't get me started on all the soups you have to eat, with no snacks or meats or sweets because your body can barely hold them down. No fun."
You chuckle, taking a moment to recover from the rapidfire pace of her words. You had forgotten how fast a talker Amanda could be, especially when she was excited. "It's okay Amanda, it was just a fever. It's not like I was dying or anything."
"Yeah well obviously that fever messed with your head if what I've been hearing all day is true, and since you haven't actually talked to either me or Jen since Thursday, you're going to explain some things. Because seriously just 'Lucy Fair talked back to Cecile Farroway and got away with it,' doesn't even begin to make sense and is too far out there to just be the rumor mill. But if you did do that and never told us, then that means you've been holding out which, by the way, jerk move, especially since that was part of what had us worried over the weekend and wanted to talk with you over. So, you, me, Jen, usual place, explanation, ten minutes, or I'm burning your homework."
"Alright, I'll give you two an explanation," you say. "Just let me get lunch first."
"Holding you to that girl friend!" Amanda says, bouncing off into the crowd.
Ten minutes later and your walking food tray in hand to the corner of the lunchroom where Amanda and Jen, two friends you had given up hope ever seeing again, are sitting. Unsurprisingly, your friends are just as you remembered them. Where Amanda is loud and flamboyant, dressing in bright gaudy colors and with her heart on her sleeve, Jen is more quiet and reserved. Besides her jeans and t-shirt, she's wearing her signature grey hoodie that, while not baggy, does hide her upper body from casual observation. Her current book is sitting unfolded on the table, like usual, but unlike usual she isn't reading while eating. Instead, she's staring at you.
"Okay, start explaining," Amanda says as you sit down. "What happened?"
"What, you mean with Cecile?" you said, "I just pointed out that I had sent her the report, and really it was her own fault she hadn't turned it in on time."
Amanda and Jen exchanged looks. "See, that makes sense," Amanda said, "when you ignore the whos and whats. You being tired and angry Thursday night at having to do the report yourself while also coming down with a stomach virus? Yeah I can see you not thinking straight sending her the report. But this morning, when you're not sick, when the Queen Bee of the school herself is talking down to you and making it very clear that's she's top bitch? Yeah no, no way would you not folding make sense, especially since she knows how to mash your insecurities. So, that just leaves one question." She folds her hands in front of her face glaring over them at you.
"What happened over the weekend to turn panicky insecure Lucy into confident, badass Lucy who really needs to communicate with her friends better instead of just sending 'I'm fine' texts to worried questions. Seriously, not cool, you've got both me and Jen concerned." The quiet girl nods in agreement, brushing a lock of long black hair out of her face.
You sigh, drumming your fingers on the table. They're right, you owe them something of an explanation. The place you're sitting in is quiet, an out of the way spot with no one nearby, because most everyone is outside enjoying the mid-april weather. With three walls blocking off other paths, you'd see someone approaching long before they got in earshot. But the question is whether you want to give your friends an explanation, and how much. A secret is harder to keep for every person that knows it. They're your friends, and you doubt anyone they told would believe them, but the principle is the same. In Dolinar some things had to be kept close to the chest, and you'd hidden things from even Lilith and Gareth if the matter was delicate enough. But that was on Dolinar, and this is not. You've already hidden matters from your family. Do you wish to do the same with your friends?
What do you tell your friends?
[] Nothing. This is valuable information that needs to be kept secret, to be revealed when the time is right. What happened to you in Dolinar isn't their business, friends or no.
[] Magic is real. They should get some kind of explanation, but not as much as what you've told your family. You'll tell them about magic, but not about Dolinar, or what happened there.
[] I Became a Queen. These are your friends, the kind your supposed to rely on. You've shared secrets with them that even your family doesn't know. They can be trusted with the facts of your rise to power, and the changes those facts had on you.
[X] I Became a Queen. These are your friends, the kind your supposed to rely on. You've shared secrets with them that even your family doesn't know. They can be trusted with the facts of your rise to power, and the changes those facts had on you.
No. No, you do not want to hide things from your friends. You did plenty of that on Dolinar and even though it was necessary, the guilt still ate at you.
And what about Max and your father?
That was different. You care for them, truly, but you've always kept private things secret from them, and even with what you've told them you've seen the worry in their eyes. Imagine how they'd react if they knew the truth?
"Alright," you say, blowing out a breath through your teeth. "Bare with me on this, because there is a lot to talk about and most of it is going to sound strange.
"First off, magic is real. If you have the proper training and know what you're doing, you can do things that modern science says should be impossible. More importantly, it has its own central logic that you extrapolate on and build from. You can go from picking up a candle flame, to generating your own, to making fireballs, and eventually to throwing them." You grab at the food on your plate, picking up a thin, floppy noodle. "Durrham." The noodle stiffened and congealed became rigid. It didn't bend or move as you waved it about, almost like it had dried out, but it was still saturated with liquid. "That, is the most basic spell of Steel Magic, the school of imbuing, shaping, and enchanting."
Amanda opens her mouth, but stops as Jen nudges her. "Let Lucy finish, then ask," she says.
"Thanks," you say, putting the noodle back on your tray. "All the schools of magic are pretty amazing, and the more you study and research it, the more there is to discover. Weapon magic gives the user a mastery of combat that is, kinda hard to believe, even when you've see masters perform dozens of times. Nautical magic can make someone a peerless ship pilot or a deep sea explorer. Soul magic allows for the interaction between spirits, and can be used from speaking to the dead to inspiring hope where there should be none. I don't know if there's an underlying rule, a....base principle that it all works off of, but I wouldn't be surprised if there is. With me so far?"
Your friends nod.
"Okay, good. Next important thing, alternate worlds exist. I'm not sure how many, but there are at least two, maybe more. After I went to sleep on Thursday night, I woke up in the kingdom of Dolinar on the world of Karas. The reason why was because the nobility of Dolinar enacted a ritual that they thought would target an illegitimate descendant of their founder. None of them were good enough at Nautical, Soul, and Steal magic to fully understand the ritual though, and it targeted his reincarnation."
"You," Jen says. Amanda is nearly buzzing in her seat. She really wants to interject.
"Yeah, me," you say. You spear an overcooked piece of broccoli on your fork. "It was a very public event, so they couldn't exactly cover it up, but they played it to their favor. Turned me into their queen and for a few years tried to use me to advance their own goals. I was piece in the grand game of politics to be won and used. Thing is, I don't like being manipulated, especially when it was getting people killed. It took me nearly ten years, but I forced the nobility to respect me, and I actually cowed a few of their enemies. It kind of led to me reestablishing the empire they'd once had as well."
"Okay, okay, okay, stop." Amanda finally can't control herself. "You're telling us that the difference between the Lucy of Thursday and the Lucy of today is ten years on another planet?"
"Thirteen years, actually," you shrug. "Best as I can tell they measured time the same as us."
"Yeah, sure," Amanda says, burying her face in her hands. She takes a few deep breaths, and then looks up to meet your eyes. "I was giving you a chance to tell us what happened, but this is way out there bonkers, ridiculous and unbelievable. You're telling me you're some bullshit power fantasy about you becoming queen then empress of a fantasy world with science breaking magics and everything. I got a text from you on Friday afternoon which means that according to you that all had to happen in less than a day, but everyone knows time doesn't work like that. Girlfriend I'll accept the magic thing easy enough but come on, are you serious?"
"Time isn't exactly stable between the two worlds," you say. " I don't know the exact ratio, I only have one datapoint for reference, but math point to around one hour on Earth being about fourteen thousand, two hundred thirty five hours on Karas. That's assuming I was summoned to Karas as soon as I fell asleep and woke up as soon as I was brought back."
"Like that makes any sense," Amanda mutters. "I might not be the best at physics but I'm pretty sure time doesn't work like that!"
"Doctor Who," Jen says, giving your a flat look friend.
Amanda pauses for a second, then shoves a finger in Jen's face. "That is a science fiction tv series and while I'm not on the level of Whovians I know that it is inconsistent with itself on multiple occasions. I like the good stories and fun characters the show gives me but never once have I considered it to be a good example of how time works in any shape or form." She folds her arms across her chest, gaze shifting between the two of you. "Try again, Lucy."
You growl low in your throat, massaging your forehead. You thought you were done with these kinds of idiots when you showed the Marquis of Thulinar what disobeying you would get him. "Why would I lie on this, Amanda?" You say. "I've just shown you that magic is real, and I have nothing to gain from deception. The honest truth is that, yes, I have spent nearly half of my life in another world where I was the ruler of millions. That's fact whether you like it or not. Why does that upset you?"
Amanda looks away, lips pinched together in a line. "Because it doesn't make sense," she says. "Magic, reincarnations, another world….forty minutes ago everything was nice and simple and made sense and you weren't some warrior queen come again to rule us all. It's just, how? How is that a rational world."
"New discoveries," Jen said. "People used to think the world was flat. Round didn't make sense. Humans used to think they were created wholesale. Then Darwin proved evolution. This is the same thing."
Amanda seems to deflate at that, sitting low in here seat. It's a bit saddening to see her like that.
Show me to them, Draschal said, his voice whispering in your ear. Part of you desperately wants to convince her, and seeing me will go a long way to removing the last of her doubt.
But, there were other people here within easy sight of you. A ghost made of wispy blue light is going to stand out.
Then take them somewhere private, but show me to them, Draschal said. There is time yet until lunch is over.
"You're right, as usual." You stand from your seat, gesturing to Amanda and Jen. "Follow me," you say. "There's something else I want to show you. It'll at least help you accept my story."
One of the nice things about your school, Westmont Municipal, is that it's old. Old buildings, old hallways, old rooms. It grew with the city over the years, haphazardly and without clear planning. After countless renovations, repairs, and additions meant to keep the public school servicing the district, there were plenty of dead end nooks and crannies that allowed for privacy, tucked away from prying eyes. You find one such dead end easy enough, an unused classroom just off the lunchroom, overstuffed with extra desks and with dust gathering on the chalkboards. The windows looked out on a narrow brickwalled alley that looked like it never saw any use. You walk further into the room, take a breath to collect your thoughts, and prepare to explain things.
Unfortunately you are beaten to the punch.
Amanda lets out a shriek and Jen takes a startled gasp. You whirl around, hand instinctively going for a sword that isn't there, only to force your guard down as Draschal Edolin fades into existence. He's more distinct than before, the blue glow stronger and sharper as it outlines ornate but functional armor, lines of script flowing along the breastplate and curving around the faulds hanging off his waist. The writing is a battle poem, something common among the clans he had united under his banner, although it is in a much older language that barely anyone remembers. His legs fade away just below the knees, the tops of his greaves turning into a churning mist. The facsimile of his greatsword, Firesbreath, is cradled in the curve of his right arm, middle of the blade resting on his shoulder and his fingers curled around the pommel. Huh, he decided to go with his battle gear this time. Usually he likes formal wear.
"What the hell is that Lucy?" Amanda says, voice higher than usual. "You didn't say anything about ghosts but I'm pretty sure that's a ghost right there, which means you're haunted and everyone knows that is not a good thing!"
"Well," you say, "I didn't want to show him in the cafeteria as he's kind of noticeable. Although I would have given a brief explanation, but Draschal here decided to pre-empt me."
You would have stumbled across your own words and meandered on the road, Draschal says, smiling sardonically. It works well with the trimmed beard and mustache, although the helmet hair doesn't. Erudite you may be, but few people in Dolinar need explanation about Apparitions. Besides, they will have many questions either way, I merely save us the trouble of repetition.
"Oh ha ha," you say, "Like you were ever any better at explaining spell-work, Mr. 'I'm going to leave behind a half dozen very powerful spells that no one understands.'"
A personal failing I have already conceded on. But your friends require an explanation.
You snort, turning to your friends and offering an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. Anyway, this is Drascahl Edolin, my past life and the founder of Dolinar, the empire I told you guys about. He's reliable, but more than a bit of an ass at the best of times."
"You...talk to him?" Jen says glancing at the blue shade. "Can he interact?"
You wiggle your hand in the air. "Yes and no. He's an Apparition, a part of my soul given solid form through my skill with magic. Apparitions are a type of spirit, so they can only interact with the spiritual and magical. He can't speak aloud because that requires him vibrating the air, which is, in most cases, completely material. He speak directly into a person's mind, because they have a soul, but that requires a connection."
"Couldn't he establish one with us, if he wanted to?" Amanda asked, looking uncomfortable at the idea.
"He could," you shrug. "but minds are private things. Giving someone permission to speak to your mind is considered an intimate action, like kissing. So you don't have to worry about that happening."
Amanda offers a hesitant nod, while Jen walks forwards. She looks Draschal up and down, pausing as she looks at his gauntlets. The right one shows the roaring head of a dragon, maw pointed towards his fingers. The left one is shaped to look like a claw, with pointed fingers and and a scale pattern carved on the back. You remember when he had his physical armor shaped like that in preparation for the first dragon hunt in recorded history. A full grown dragon had been terrorizing nearby villages, stealing sheep, ruining entire fields, and killing hundreds of peasants. Standard practice was to evacuate everyone and wait for the beast to move on, as no one thought they could be killed. He proved otherwise.
"Magic is powerful," Jen said, turning to face you. "Could you teach me?"
You blinked in surprise, but chuckled. It made sense that Jen would want that, she was always eager to learn new things. "Maybe, but that's something for later, and I've never been a good teacher." You turn to Amanda, still looking hesitant and unsure. "This isn't irrefutable proof for the existence of Dolinar or Karas, but it's the best I can do on short notice. I know this makes you uncomfortable, but I am telling the truth. Are you willing to at least accept that I believe it, as my friend?"
She pinches her lips, looking off to the side. "You don't play fair. How am I supposed to say no to face as serious and earnest as that?" Earnest? You hadn't thought you were being earnest, but whatever works.
Amanda blows out a breath and nods, turning to smile at you. "I'll need time to adjust to something as crazy as this, but it's no worse than your scheme for getting a prom-date last year so I'll believe you."
"Oh really?" You say. "I barely remember it, so you'll have to remind me in the future." The shrill ring of the end of period bell echoes through the hallways, and the three of you jump. "Later, we need to get to class right now." And you'd just started eating. Well, not the first time you worked on an empty stomach before, you'd manage.
-------------
The following days pass as you reacquaint yourself with school life again. The student body doesn't seem to know how to handle your new attitude, but they'll adjust. Amanda and Jen do so as well, asking you questions about magic and Dolinar, and also sharing the latest school gossip and comparing the male students against each other. Dad and Max seem to be accustoming themselves to the new you, although you catch them eyeing you at times when they think you aren't looking.
Time Skipping to Friday, what do you focus on in that time? Choose Three
[] Keeping up with class work and studies
[] Asserting yourself in school as a person to just leave alone
[] Meditating and keeping your magic sharp
[] Practicing your sword forms
[] Spending time with your friends
[] Spending time with your family
[] Start looking for a job, summer break is around the corner
[] Re-acquainting yourself with current events via the news
[] write-in
