As he walked, Shawn’s mind whirred with possibilities. Could it be that he’d found himself in some kind of video game world? That would explain a lot. The runes clearly were magic, and Shawn could cast them. Did that make him a wizard? And when he’d cast that first rune, he’d gotten a massive shock of power. Is that what the first rune did? And why did he get a second one?

  Shawn pulled the pouch from his pocket and removed the triangular rune from it. He tried to toss the tile in the same way he’d thrown the first.

  The tile plinked to the ground.

  He picked it back up and replaced it in the pouch. If a rune is like a word, what does this one mean? He continued trudging through the woods. The forest was dark off the path, but the packed dirt path was so wide it was nearly a road. Even though the air was relatively cool beneath the canopy, before long, sweat coated his body. He rode his bike around campus, but he didn’t often go out hiking in the woods for hours at a time. After only two hours, his strength began to flag and he was forced to stop and rest, taking a seat beneath a tree.

  The buzz of insects and the cool shade nearly lulled Shawn to sleep, and his eyelids began drooping. If I fall asleep here, I’ll be easy prey for more of those demon hog things. If there are others. He jumped up, shaking himself back to alertness. I have to find a town.

  He started back along the path, tired to the bone. Only thoughts of a soft bed or a hot meal kept him going. Suddenly, Shawn saw his first signs of civilization. A small puff of smoke over the canopy. Then another. He started jogging as fast as his exhausted body could take him, running towards the town.

  A large wooden wall loomed from the forest, an intricately carved gate inset into it. The wall looked very…natural. Trees grew directly into the wall, and the boards between trees were carved with a bark pattern. It gave off the impression of a solid wall of forest. A pair of guards stood on either side of the gate, armed with halberds. As Shawn came around the bend, one spoke.

  “Wait a moment there, stranger. What business do you have with entering Vallaren?”

  Shawn blinked for a moment at the guard, rubbing his forehead. “Honestly, I just need a place to stay for the night.”

  “I hope you know that the price of disturbing the peace is expulsion from the walls. Especially on feast days like tomorrow.” He still sounded irritated, but maybe that was just because his job was to stand outside of the city during these “feast days.”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “Uh, I will make sure not to…do that then,” Shawn responded, hesitantly. “Can I enter?”

  “...very well,” said the guard, begrudgingly. He called to the two towers above the gate. “Open the doors!” The thick, wooden double doors were carved with designs that resembled trees and (surprise!) more runes. They looked ancient, and clearly, they had been around for longer than the walls around them. Even so, they swung open smoothly at the guard’s call.

  “Um…thanks,” said Shawn. He stepped forward and slipped between the two doors and was met with a wave of noise. A massive crowd of people filled the street, walking between merchant stalls, dancing, and laughing. There was a triumphant air to the scene, and the smell of food set Shawn’s mouth watering. He longed to investigate the roasting kebabs and honey slathered bread that he spied at one stall, but he had no money. Forcing himself away from the food, he marched down the street, wading into the crowd.

  One woman stood at the side of the street, enjoying what looked like a veggie wrap, but with a thick sauce inside. Shawn approached her, feeling awkward already. “Hello, um, ma’am. Would you happen to know where the nearest hotel might be?”

  She stared at him blankly, chewing. “You know, a hotel. Where you can rent a room to stay in?” She still made no move to respond. “I want to sleep. Where can I get that?” As he said this, he mimed sleeping, laying his head on his two stacked hands.

  Just when Shawn had stopped to consider the fact that perhaps, no one in this world spoke English, she responded in a thick voice, “Inn…hrn…that way.” Her mouth was full, so the words were garbled, but she still pointed down the street.

  “Thank you,” said Shawn, dashing in that direction. He managed to find the inn, which had a crudely painted sign of a glass of wine and a loaf of bread hanging above the door. Stepping in, he realized, for the second time, that he had no money. Thinking fast, Shawn walked up to the bar.

  “Do you need some help with the kitchen?” he asked the barkeep.

  The barkeep paused, turning towards him. “What’dchu say?” he responded, in a gruff voice.

  “I need a room. I can wash dishes and, uh, serve? I just need a room for tonight and maybe a meal. Please.”

  The barkeep regarded him for a long moment. Finally, he snapped his towel and wiped up a spot on the bar, saying, “You can scrub those dishes in the sink. You do that and you can have room eight for a night and some leftovers from dinner.”

  “Thank you, sir, thank you.”

  Shawn scrubbed for what felt like years, each new dish taking a little more of his skin until his hands were red and raw from the coarse sand they used. After those years of his life ended, he finally was allowed to sit and have a small plate of cold potato and roast pork.

  It felt like one of the best things he’d ever had. And when he stumbled up to room eight and opened the door to find a leak dripping in the corner, a listing table, and peeling wallpaper, he didn’t even bat an eye. He just collapsed on the hard, straw pallet-bed and fell straight to sleep.