Bog Standard Isekai Book 1. Chapter 13

The next day, Brin set off for his chores like usual, a hard morning at the mill, but it felt like the ti went by in a flash now that he knew he’d be done with work at the end of the four hour shift.

To his surprise, he found Hogg waiting for him when he finished. The [Millers] had laid out so bread and butter for him, but Hogg didn’t even wait for him to pat the flour off his clothes before he said, “I gotta talk to you. Co here.”

Brin followed him back behind the building, where the huge blades of the windmill spun slowly in the breeze.

“I got news,” said Hogg.

“About the Heroes?” asked Brin.

“No, that’s the sa as ever. This is about you. Or, your body. The kid whose body you– You know what I an.”

“Oh,” said Brin. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this.

“Just like we hoped, there were survivors of Travin’s Bog. So are scattered to the wind, but most settled in Kara’s Bog. I asked around, trying to find out about you, figure out who knew you and maybe what your na was. Didn’t have much to go on, but I passed around your picture. There were so who recognized your face.”

“And?”

“Nothing. No one knew you. Your parents were traveling rchants. The people whose house you were staying with died in the attack, and they were the only people who got your parents’ nas. No one learned your na. I’m afraid it’s a dead end.”

That was a relief, although he felt guilty at how much of a relief it was. He knew it was his responsibility to follow up on whatever final wishes this boy may have had, but being told that there was nothing else he could do was very liberating. He could dare to think that this life was his now. Completely his, without so poor lonely ghost following him around.

Brin t Hogg’s eyes and said, “Thanks for letting know.”

Hogg nodded and turned to leave. Over his shoulder he called, “You should talk to the [Priest]!”

Brin didn’t respond. If there was soone who would know more about the circumstances of his reincarnation, it would be the [Priest] in the temple. He had to go soti, if only to get this weight off his shoulders, but Hogg was right when he accused Brin of being afraid.

What if the [Priest] decided that Brin was an evil spirit that needed to be cast out? What if the boy was still inside here sowhere, screaming silently as a stranger controlled his body? Also, Solia was real. The gods in that place were real. But were they gods? What if he found evidence that the faith of his old world was wrong? What if he didn’t?

He walked towards the temple. Then turned around and walked away. Then turned around again and walked straight there, eyes on the ground. He stood outside, waiting. For what, he didn’t know. An invitation, maybe?

The temple was beautiful white stone, one piece to all appearances, and the only stone structure in town. Before him was a wide open doorway leading to a large open space on the inside. Above the door, images of the gods were arranged in rows, forming a pyramid-shaped roof.

The sixteen godlings on the bottom row. The nine minor gods were next. Above that, the seven major gods, including Nedramus, Magelin, Eridu, Sezorat and the goddess who’d apparently been speaking to him. Solia.

Above that were the three Fundantals: Inanu, Babus, and Nocta. On the top row, the Ur-god, Primus, stood alone.

“Are you wondering if you’ll light on fire the second you cross the threshold? Maybe you shouldn’t take the chance,” said a woman.

He turned and saw the absolute last person he wanted to see. It was that [Weaver] lady, Tawna. From anyone else, he would have taken it as friendly banter, but there was sothing in the way she said it that told him it was far from friendly.

“I guess you would know.”

He didn’t get this lady. Everyone said [Weavers] could see the future. They talked about her like she was all mysterious and wise, but every ti he’d t her he’d seen nothing but a small, bitter old hag.

She had wide open eyes with an unhappy smirk; in his old life he’d seen that face on all kinds of unbearable people. She had the sa long black hair as her daughter, and she was closer to his mind’s age. In his past life, she probably would’ve been soone he’d try to get to know better. At least until he saw her make that face.

“Well? Why don’t you move along?” she said.

“Why don’t you? I’m not blocking the street,” he said.

“I’ll excuse that because you’re from out of town, but in my town, that isn’t the way that children talk to adults. You can bet that I’ll be having a talk with your guardian.”

“Oh, please do. I would love to see you try to throw your weight around with Hogg,” said Brin.

“Do you exist to vex ? You are ruining this town. Why can’t you do as I say and leave?”

“The only thing wrong with this town is you,” said Brin. He turned toward the temple doorway.

"Ah ah ah! What do you think you're doing? You have no idea what you've brought. What you're bringing."

"Then tell ," said Brin.

She pursed her lips back into the tight little smirk, eyes wide.

He shook his head and walked away from the silly conversation. Into the temple. Maybe he’d just needed the motivation to co in here, and spite was a pretty good motivator. Tawna didn’t want him to co in here? Then that was a good reason to do it.

Looking around, he felt stupid that it had taken him so long to do this. It was a beautiful building, with so solid stone benches, a few murals on the wall, and beautiful geotric patterns on the ceiling. The [Priest] Ellion was sitting on a plush armchair, head back and eyes closed. He was taking a nap. This was a peaceful place.

The stone walls and floor echoed every single sound, but sohow also made the room feel quieter. Quieter, and larger. It seed to get larger and larger the further he walked inside.

He walked across the empty chamber and sat on one of the benches. He was here to talk to Ellion, but there was no rush. He could wait for the man to wake up.

His eyes moved across the room’s decorations. The murals told a story of sorts. Each wall was a different season, winter, spring, sumr, fall. So they did have four seasons here. That was one question answered. He’d been beginning to wonder, because the entire ti he’d been here, the weather hadn’t seed to change at all. Muggy and warm, always.

The seasons depicted on the murals weren’t really the ones he was used to. Winter was depicted as torrential rain. Spring had lots of rain and flowers, with sunbeams peaking through the clouds. Sumr was all bright skies and greenery, while fall was rainy again, and brown. The gods frolicked here and there in the pictures, acting out their various roles. Sotis they were easy to understand, like the goddess Magelin fighting a bear. So were more difficult, like Eridu shouting at a waterfall.

In the center of the chamber the statues… no, there was just one statue. One very large, twenty foot tall statue of a goddess. Solia.

How had he not seen that from outside? It was huge. A gigantic white statue, whiter than marble, more like plaster. She was so large her head nearly touched the dod ceiling. She lood, almost threateningly.

No, she stood triumphant, one arm pointing to the horizon, the other a fist in the air. And why had he thought she was white? The stone was golden and glossy, almost tallic.

Seriously, how was this even here? If there was a huge statue of the goddess Solia in this town, he’d think at least one person who ntion it. And it was really here, [Know What’s Real] wasn’t ringing any alarms for him. It was doing the opposite. Sohow, the statue was more real than anything around it.

It was also strange that Ellion was asleep, co to think of it. Did [Priests] just randomly take naps in the middle of the day?

Maybe if Ellion was awake, Brin would be able to ask him about the strange, shifting statue. He hadn’t actually seen her move, but now she was looking down. One arm was at her side. The other was held towards him, palm outward.

Despite all the strangeness, his mind felt calm. Sluggish. Sothing was going on, but he couldn't seem to turn on his internal alarm bells. He tried to shout, but it ca out as a sigh.

Ellion’s eyes snapped open. He stood and took a step towards Brin. “What–?”

He was gone.

The panic Brin had tried to muster hit him all at once.

The statue. Solia. She wasn’t standing at all. She was bending over, looking at him. She was still as stone. She was moving always moving she’d never stopped motion she was pure motion she was still she’d never moved at all. She was solid and unchanging as the firmant she was rapid and amorphous she never stopped changing she changed slowly she was still as the void.

Brin’s head was screaming. Brin was screaming. Brin’s Skill, which wasn’t really a Skill, more like a part of him, a delicate organ, exposed to open air and vulnerable and raw. It was screaming at him.

THIS. IS. REAL.

He shut his eyes. He closed off his mind. This couldn’t be real. It was a bad trip. In the religions that Christianity replaced, they used to give people that visited their temples hallucinogens, and then bedazzle them with optical illusions. Smoke and mirrors.

The truth slamd into his mind, tearing apart the lie he was trying to create. His eyes were opened again.

THIS. IS. REAL.

“Look upon ,” said Solia.

It was hard to comprehend what he saw. A woman in form, but also other things. Her head was the sun, and she had a cow’s horns. From her arms hung the wings of a bird. She stood in a river between life and death.

She was enormous. She spanned dinsions he couldn’t comprehend, that itched at the edge of his awareness, pulling at threads trying to unravel his mind. She was powerful, controlling and using forces that he didn’t have words for.

“Look upon , and fear not,” said Solia. This ti… he saw what she was trying to show him. He didn’t need to fear her. She wouldn’t hurt him, and she wouldn’t lie to him either. He saw the edges. She was enormous, but not infinite. She was powerful, but not omnipotent. Godlike, but not god. Even so, she was too much for him. If he looked any longer, he'd co apart completely.

She looked down at him with pity in her eyes. Pity and universes in her eyes. “Fear not. I will depart, so that you may remain alive for a ti. I will instruct my servant Ellion. Ask your questions of him.”

All at once, the world was normal again. He was in the temple, but it was just stone. The chamber was empty except for the stone benches and the murals on the wall, and Ellion the priest. The statue of Solia was gone, if it had ever really been there in the first place.

[Know What’s Real] hit him like the aftershock of an earthquake. IT WAS THERE. IT WAS REAL.

Brin knelt, putting his hands on the floor. It was comfortably cool. He put his cheek against it, feeling the stone pull the excess heat away from his body. It felt nice, despite how he was shivering.

Normal floor. Normal stone. He wanted to kiss it for how normal it was.

Ellion stepped towards him, confusion and concern in his features. “What was…” Then he stopped short and his eyes went wide. “No no no, please don’t–!” He scread.

A glow appeared behind Ellions’ eyes, a fire. His feet left the floor, and his eyes shone brightly, so bright Brin had to look away, where he could see the stone benches casting black shadows despite the noonday hour.

Then all at once it was over again, and Ellion fell to the floor. The temple lay in silence.

Brin lay on the stone floor for a while, while Ellion sat and stared at the open air. Neither rembered exactly how long they stayed like that.

Brin shivered and pulled the blanket closer. Ellion placed a steaming cup of tea on the table in front of him. It amazed Brin to see how steady the priest’s hands were when he picked up his own cup and took a sip. He winced. “Ow. Hot.”

They were in Ellion’s basent apartnt, underneath the temple. It was small, but clean and surprisingly cozy. A sofa, a bed, a small half kitchen. A small bookshelf. Everything you’d need and nothing you didn’t.

A fire roared in the fireplace. Where the smoke went he didn’t know. Elaborate pipework must take it away from the temple, because as far as he knew they were directly below the stone where he’d had his vision.

He was grateful for the fire. Sohow he couldn’t shake the cold. One bright side; his thermophobia was cured. He was cold and he never wanted to feel like this again.

He tried the tea. It was too hot and it burned his tongue, so he took smaller sips, but he didn’t stop because it tasted great. A lot of honey. An absurd amount of honey, actually, maybe more honey than water but it was exactly what he needed right now.

“It helps,” said Ellion. “This isn’t my first ti. Hopefully it’s my last, though.”

Brin chuckled, and that made him feel better, too. "I would think you'd have an easier ti of it, being a [Priest] and all."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you," said Ellion, chuckling but also sadly serious.

Ellion’s fine robes and headdress made him look older than he really was, but up close Brin could see that he was in his pri, without any gray in his hair. He had strong features, and a line of dried blood still lay in tear tracks under his eyes.

Brin pointed to them on his own face, and realized that he had bloody tear trails as well.

“Oh, where are my manners,” said Ellion. He wiped his face with a handkerchief, and gave Brin a spare for his own face.

Ellion produced a hand mirror to get the last few little spots, then handed it over to Brin.

“Now, where to begin. Let’s start with you. You are twelve years old. Your na is Brin isu Yambul. Translated into English, it’s Scar the Mistaken,” said Ellion.

“You’re speaking English! How are you doing that?” Shocked, Brin realized that Ellion had been speaking English since he’d co down here.

Ellion shuddered. “I was given the language, as well as so knowledge of your situation. If the goddess had imparted it to you directly, you would have perished. An interdiary was necessary.”

“In that case, I’m sorry you had to go through that. If it was anything like what I saw... I didn’t know she was going to do that when I ca in here.”

Ellion nodded. “I know. And your apology is accepted. Now, there is much that Solia would have tell you. So of it is for later, but much of it I can tell you now. First, about your na. Brin ans ‘scar’ in Frenarian, but it’s actually not unheard of as a na. ‘Mistaken’ is, though, so that’s how people think of you. Brin the Mistaken. For the record, Mark Lambert is dead.”

Brin thought he was done being surprised, but that still shocked him. “I’ve never told anyone my last na.”

“That doesn’t an it isn’t known.”

“When you say Mark Lambert is dead, does that an I’m not–?”

“You were. Mark Lambert. Then you died and now you’re here. You have mories of your past life in your head, but your body is that of a twelve-year-old boy and that makes you a twelve-year-old boy. The water fills the vessel, but the vessel is not the water and the water is not the vessel; this is wisdom.”

“That’s actually… really nice to know. But I still think and Zilly should just be friends,” said Brin.

Ellion’s lips quirked with humor. “I think that’s wise. On that note… your body.”

Brin braced himself for the news. This question is what had brought him here in the first place, and if he’d gotten more than he’d bargained for, he still needed to know about who his body belonged to.

“Your body had a previous owner. He’s dead now. The [Mage] Lumina guessed correctly at what happened to him. His mother… she didn’t treat him the way she ought to have. But she loved him, in her own way. She crafted an artifact to save his life, one ti, from a mortal wound. Due to his circumstances, he was given a choice. He saw what lies ahead, and he knew what waited for him should he turn back. He chose to move on.”

Brin bowed his head. “Ok.”

“Don’t resent him for his choice. You made another. When you lay dying, your soul cried to the heavens in rebellion. You felt it unjust, to die the way you did. It was seen that another body was available and so it was given to you. Make no mistake, if that unsouled body had fallen into the hands of the one who destroyed Travin’s Bog, great evil would have been done with it. By taking possession of it, you were able to resolve the boy’s final regret. This life is yours now. He no longer cares what happens to it.”

Brin nodded. “Can I ever go ho?”

“No,” said Ellion.

“What? But–”

“What would you have Solia do? Send you back? You’ve received a true miracle, sothing far beyond anything you had any right to expect, you already demand a second miracle? No, make the best of this life. You won’t get another second chance,” said Ellion.

“What if I find another way? So kind of spell or sothing,” said Brin.

“I know of no such thod, but perhaps. Perhaps you’ll gain the levels necessary to extend your lifespan, and after a century or two you’ll gather the power you'll need to make it happen. But you’ll be traveling there as Brin, not Mark. This is a lesson all n must learn. You can never go ho. The place you once called ho has changed, and you don’t belong there any more. Hold that mory warm and safe in your heart, but move on. You must make a new place to call ho.”

Brin sat and thought for a mont. He pulled the blanket off; it was getting too warm. “What was his na?”

“That is not for to say. If you wish to know, find out on your own.”

Brin nodded, and stared at the crackling fire, deep in thought. “I should go.”

Ellion said, “Very well. Should you ever feel the desire to converse in your mother tongue, I hope you will not hesitate to visit.”

Brin promised he would, then left the temple. It was night. Late at night, but he didn’t go back to Hogg’s place. He wandered the streets, walking endlessly as he thought.

The houses and buildings took on a new cast. They seed a bit more solid than the day before, a bit more substantial. They weren't just backdrops any more. This wasn't a temporary shelter. For the rest of his life, whenever soone asked where he was from, he'd have to tell them he was from here.

A new ho. A new life. What did he want that to look like?

He found himself at the public house.

The custors had all gone ho, but it wasn’t empty. The bartender was sitting behind the bar, the [Bard] was counting coins on stage, a young man was sweeping the dance floor, and Hela, the owner, was clearing tables. She scowled at him when he walked in. Kids weren't allowed in here, especially after dark.

He ignored her and walked straight over to Jeffrey the [Bard]. “Can you teach to play?”

“It won’t work,” said Jeffrey. “There’s no surefire way to get the [Bard] Class.”

“I don’t care. I’ve always wanted to be able to make music. I don’t need a Class for that, do I?”

Jeffrey smiled and strumd a note. A chair jumped up from the dining area and danced its way up to the stage beside him. He patted it.

“Sure kid. I can teach you.”