Chapter 36: Chapter 30: Chamomile and Brandy

For a new “fantasy world” first, I arrived back at Mary’s house from town with daylight to spare. It may seem like such a minor thing but it filled me with an odd sort of satisfaction. Getting home with daylight to spare was a rarity in my past life, with my coursework making long hours a necessity.

 

It was just the nature of it all, having classes and graduate assistant work, but that kind of life gets to be a massive drain on your psyche. It had slipped my mind since most of my work has been at the house here and surrounding outbuildings, but it was always such a drain. The daily grind of getting up balls-early, making coffee before hoofing it to the train station, getting on a crowded commuter train to the university, and spending all day there with a short break to scarf down lunch from the nearby convenience store…

 

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed learning immensely, but by the time you arrived back home your legs and brain would just feel dead. You’d microwave some pre-made food, pop open a beer, and read or watch videos for a bit before passing out to restart the routine the next day. If I was feeling especially energetic I’d at least manage to put my clothes in the hamper before falling asleep, but it was maybe a fifty/fifty change I’d be able to pull that off.

 

Wow… my life before coming here was really kind of bland. For all I know it might have gotten better after graduating with my master’s degree. It probably would have, but the drudgery of the commute was an absolute bitch. Or maybe I’m just being overly dramatic. After all… Just then, the front door burst open and Mary came rushing out.

 

“Rose, are you okay?” A worried look was painted on her face. “You had stopped at the front porch, and I could smell blood...” Holding up the rabbit I had hunted helped to slightly calm her expression.

 

“I had gotten distracted. I was just thinking...”

 

“About what?”

 

“I’m glad I was able to come here.”

 

Mary stared back at me, looking confused but at the same time, happy.

 

---

 

Dinner… wasn’t rabbit stew. For one thing, even though it was daylight I still arrived in the late afternoon. Mary had already started cooking dinner by the time I got there. Another one of the perks of leaving my past life, division of labor. While that could have been accomplished if I had a roommate, I tended to be kinda awkward. I just didn’t normally do well with others. It’s actually odd how I feel perfectly comfortable around Mary… Anyways, by the time I cleaned and butchered the rabbit it would be late in the evening and we’d be hungry.

 

“Here’s your tea.” Mary said, after dinner was cleared away. We were both sitting on the couch in the library drinking herbal tea, with just a touch of brandy, as a post-meal palate cleanser. The actual blend of tea was rather good; Mary had mentioned trying out a new blend and quite frankly it was delicious. It went perfect with the brandy.

 

“Delicious.” I said. It truly was. The blend of herbs cut the slight tinge of alcohol from the liquor, and the brandy brought the temperature down enough where I didn’t even need to blow on it to cool it. I took a large sip, savoring the taste. “How did work back here go?”

 

“It went great! I feel like I was able to put a bit more effort into understanding the nature of black powder mixture. It’s a bit different from working with plants, but even this compound had a bit of the energy that plants do, and not just from the willow charcoal. It was immensely productive.”

 

“Magically-enhanced gunpowder? That seems neat. I’m glad your day went well.”

 

“How did your errands go?”

 

“The glass worker was helpful. She was here the other day, actually. I didn’t even have to dig into the money I got to pay her, she just wanted some coffee as payment. However,  the blacksmith was a bust.” I replied, taking another gulp from my cup. “He said I’d need to find a specialist for the lock; the thing that makes the fire that sets off the powder.”

 

“I must admit I find the mechanism behind it all rather ingenious, when you explained it earlier. But, do you really need it? You could use magic too, and it’d be much simpler to use that way. More accurate, too since you wouldn’t have a bunch of fire and smoke going off near your face.” Naturally I had explained how flintlock rifles worked to her. I refilled my cup. Considering her hobby of collecting books from my world, she had caught on fairly quickly to how they worked. But for some reason her taste in books she’s actually read seems to trend more towards fantasy novels. I liked fantasy books myself, but I still can’t understand why someone in a fantasy world would be drawn to them.

 

Or maybe I do? I suppose in some ways it’s like seeing your home country depicted in books from another country, or ego searching yourself on Google to see if people are talking about you. There’s that sense of curiosity about what other people might say or think about you. I can only guess it might be something similar here. Like, what would people say if they were “aware” of you, but in the context of you being some sort of fictional entity?

 

Someone unaware of the reality of the supernatural trying to write a story about it might come to some odd conclusions. If they’ve never experienced it themselves, or never considered the possibility that it could happen to them, what might they write? Would they get things horribly wrong, or would they get eerily close to the truth? There’s a lot of writers out there, so for all I know there could be someone out there right now recording thoughts similar to my own for mass consumption. Given the whole “multiverse theory” people like to talk about, it’s probably safe to say someone, in some world somewhere might even be writing down my life story, thinking it’s only a fiction they thought up themselves.

 

“Rose? You’re doing that thing again...”

 

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“Sorry, I guess the wine we had with dinner might be hitting me harder than usual. I’m just having some weird thoughts.” I answered, refilling my tea cup and topping it off with a bit of extra brandy.

 

“About what?”

 

“The fourth wall being overly fragile, like it could break at any time.”

 

“What?”

 

“Never mind. Anyways, I don’t really care if magic is easier. It just doesn’t have the same feel as a proper lock. I know on some level you understand, or else you wouldn’t be playing around with recipes from my world. It’s not about the practicality, it’s about the ‘cool factor.’” I answered as I topped off my cup. “It’s all super-neat how they came up with such an elegant neat solution. Can you imagine having to use the old way they did it, carrying around a lit slow-match? That’s full-on ‘yikes’ territory considering you’re also carrying a bunch of black powder. Wheel-locks are kinda super neat too, but considering that blacksmith couldn’t make a simple flintlock a wheel-lock would be a bit much.

 

“Is flint and steel really ‘cool?’ It seems kind of simple.”

 

“So is using magic to set it off. There’s like, no cleverness in that. While the flint lock is just so..so...so… cool. I know when I got to this world at first magic seemed super neat, but I’ve gotten acclimated to it now, I think.” I really hope I’m getting across to Mary how cool I think they are.

 

“You only got here a couple months ago...did you really get used to moving to a whole new world that fast?” She looked at me incredulously.

 

“Yess, I think so...’A whole new wooooooorld….’” I sang, only slightly off-key I’m pleased to say. Everything was feeling super comfy.

 

“Rose… are you all right?”

 

“I’m fine… just fineeeeeeeee.”

 

“Shit, maybe it’s a reaction with the new tea?” Mary lifted the tea-pot experimentally. “Oh. When did you even pour more? There should have been at least three or four more cups worth in here. I had added extra brandy to help take the edge off the chill...”

 

“Wat chill? Everything feels super warm and fuzzy.”

 

“I could swear your alcohol tolerance was higher than this.”

 

“I guess I diiiid kind of forget to eat lunch today. Too busy getting coffee brewing stuff, and I wanted to get home for dinner with you.” Lunch had completely slipped my mind to be honest.

 

“You really need to take care of yourself more.”

 

“You forget lunch all the time while working. Calling me out for missing a meal is kinda hypocritical. Kinda tired though. I did walk alllll the way too and from town.” This couch is comfy, with my body sinking into it, but staying upright still feels like a lot of effort. Maybe I can just lay down for a bit. Yup, this is super comfy.

 

“Eep! Rose, that’s my lap… Eh, this is fine, actually.”

 

“Thanks for looking out for me...”

 

I slowly drifted off to sleep, vaguely wondering about the cause of the reassuring feeling of my hair being brushed.