Survivor: Definitely Not Minecraft

Of all the ways a man could react to seeing a man riding a wyvern in heavy armor land in front of them, blowing smoke rings would not have been on the top of my list. I had asked Esmelda to wait while I went to meet the man who was claiming to be Fladnag. It wasn't that I didn't think he was Fladnag, but anytime a stranger decided to park their wagon outside of a fortress you had to wonder what their plan was.

At first glance, Fladnag was true to his inverted name. His robes were suitably long and gray, and his hair and beard, both prodigious, were snow white. His right arm was hidden by his sleeve as he sat on the bench built into the side of his wagon, which was pulled by a single burly ox. The ox was munching, its snout dipped into a feed bag, as unconcerned with my arrival as the man.

"Greeting many and fair," Fladnag said before taking a long draw on his pipe. "May I presume that you are the lord of this dark mountain?"

"Yeah," I said, "that's me." As he wasn't wearing any armor or carrying any weapons that I could see, I removed my helmet. If this was the man Esmelda had told me about, there was no need to turn this into a confrontation.

Fladnag released a little ball of smoke, then sucked it back into his mouth before it had a chance to get away. "As I told your men, I am Fladnag. Storyteller, entertainer, magician. I travel the towns of the Free Kingdoms spreading mirth and cheer in exchange for coin and hot meals. This region is a bit off my beaten path, but it occurred to me that Dargothians are as much in need of a good show now and again as any other men, and I hoped you would not resent the intrusion."

"Listen," I said, taking my helmet under my arm. "It's just us here right now. I'm sure you have your reasons, but let's drop the cosplay for a second. My name is William. I was reborn in Plana after dying in another world. I'm pretty sure you came from the same place I did. Your name is Gandalf spelled backwards. Can we talk about that?"

"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with that name.” Fladnag tapped the ash out of his pipe. “Gandalf, was it?"

"I get being cautious, " I said. "But you came here for a reason. You knew Kevin, right? Well, I'm not him. He's the only other Survivor I've met, and I feel like I've been stumbling around since I got here. Please, if you’re who I think you are, there’s so much you can tell me."

"Survivor?" Fladnag said. "I know many stories of Dargoth and its Dark Lord, but I do not know of this Kevin you speak of any more than your Gandalf."

"Well, I'm the Dark Lord now, or the lord, anyway. We might have to work on the dark part. Are you telling me you have no idea what I'm talking about?"

Fladnag’s eyebrows did a little dance, his expression thoughtful. "You say you came here from another world? That is a miraculous thing. Certainly, you are not the first to make that claim. There were heroes in the past who said the same. Some called them angels, others, demons. Would you like me to spin you a tale? In honor of your lordship, I would be glad to share a few stories with you, perform a few tricks. If you are so gracious as to allow it, I would like to ply my trade here in Dargoth as I do in the Free Kingdoms."

I wasn't getting anywhere with direct questions. As much as my memory had failed me, it was possible that Fladnag didn't remember who he was. If that wasn't the case, he seemed dead set on staying in character. If it meant I could learn something from him, I was willing to play along.

"You can have whatever permission you'd like," I said. "You're welcome here."

"I am honored by your benevolence," he said, glancing behind me. "And it appears that my audience approaches."

I turned. Esmelda, Leto, and Gastard were already coming on horseback from Mount Doom. They didn't look to be in any hurry, so we had a few minutes before they would arrive. It was a little annoying that they hadn't waited for a signal from me, but I wasn't surprised. Esmelda had been excited to meet Fladnag again, and she clearly wasn't taking my warning that this could be a trick seriously.

"So we do," I said, patting Noivern. The wyvern had crouched low to the ground to rest on his haunches. "Maybe I was mistaken about who you are, Fladnag." Just saying the name out loud felt ridiculous, but that seemed to be what he wanted. "How long have you been in the entertainment business?"

"It feels like lifetimes," he said. Despite his beard, he didn't sound ancient. Though there were lines on his face, I guessed he was around fifty, at least physically. Survivors didn't age, and maybe that was true of the other classes as well.

"And you just go around from town to town? Does that support you well enough? How did you make it across the Wastes?"

Zareth had assured me that much of Dargoth was more hospitable than this region, but I hadn't seen that side of the dark empire. There wasn’t much between Mount Doom and the Free Kingdoms aside from dust and poisonous mushrooms, and it didn't sound like he had made a stop off in Nargul to resupply.

"The journey was a trial for Boson, but we have weathered worse."

"Boson?"

Fladnag gestured toward the ox with the same hand that held his pipe. The arm under his sleeve had remained motionless, and I was beginning to wonder what was under there.

"Is your arm alright?" I asked.

Fladnag pulled back the sleeve, revealing a stump that ended at his wrist.

"Oh," I said. "I'm sorry."

"Not at all, I'm better off without it."

Which was a weird thing to say about a hand. He wasn't wearing a glove on his left, so I could see there was no elder sign to mark him as a survivor. Had he cut it off?

"What happened?"

"Ah, I'm afraid that tale is not on the itinerary for today."

"Fladnag!" Esmelda had pulled ahead of the other two, and she slid down off her horse as soon as she reached us. "It is you!"

"Of course, my dear, who else would it be?"

"Do you remember me?" Esmelda was glowing.

"I have seen thousands of faces in my travels, young lady. It is ridiculous to expect me to recall them all."

"Oh," Esmelda lost some of her enthusiasm. "I know it's been years since you came to Erihseht. I was being foolish."

"Ridiculous," Fladnag continued, "and yet, here we are. You are Esmelda, the loveliest flower of Erihseht, and daughter of Boffin. You seem to have led an interesting life in the interim."

"Your illuminators were one of the highlights of my childhood.” She beamed. “I waited for them every summer."

"I'm glad," he said, "and who is this now?"

Gastard and Leto were pulling up, and Esmelda went to help Leto down from his saddle, though he looked as if he wished she wouldn't.

"Hail," the templar said. "My name is Gastard, and I serve Lord William. I've heard of you. They say in Henterfell that you are a sorcerer."

"A magician," Fladnag said, "no more. My sorcery comes out to tricks and natural science in the end."

"This is Leto," Esmelda said, "our son."

"Hello," Leto said. "What kind of tricks do you do?"

"Your son?" Fladnag looked at me sharply.

"Yes," I said. "Esmelda is First Lady of Dargoth." I smiled at Leto. "Now that I think about it, I guess that means you're a prince."

"I'm a prince?" Leto blinked. "No one ever told me."

"I'm sorry," a shadow fell over Fladnag's face. "I didn't know."

"Sorry about what?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Forgive me. I'm an old man, I don't know what I'm saying sometimes. Now that everyone's here, why don't I give you all a performance? Just a small one."

"You could come to the fortress," Esmelda said. "You have a ready audience in the garrison. I'm sure the Major would agree to it."

Fladnag looked to Mount Doom, and his mouth turned down. I thought I saw pain in his eyes, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by a mask of good cheer.

"Ah, well. The four of you are all the audience I need for now. Why don't we begin with a story? I was just discussing my repertoire with your husband, and I think he would like to hear a tale of old times. Why not the Legend of Umberious Rex?"

"What's that?" Leto said, pointing to a small wooden box resting on the windowsill on the side of Fladnag's wagon. The box was exquisitely carved with a leaf-like pattern, and Fladnag grinned down at Leto as he picked it up.

"You have a keen eye, young man. Would you like to see a bit of magic before we begin the tale?"

Leto nodded, his gaze focused on the box as it was opened to reveal a gleaming steel ball. Fladnag had rested the box on the wrist that was once again concealed by his sleeve, and he picked up the ball between his thumb and forefinger to display it for Leto.

"An ordinary object," he said, "or so it would appear. In truth, this ball was forged by dwarven smiths in days of yore, and it has some very special qualities."

"Like what?" Leto asked.

"It exists in two worlds at once," Fladnag said. "Neither entirely in or out of either one." He rolled it into his palm, closed his fist, and then opened it again to reveal that the ball had disappeared. He brought it back to roll it over his knuckles, made it vanish again, and then reappear in the pocket of Leto's vest. Neither Leto nor his mother were wearing their armor, which was something I intended to lecture them about later, but for now, it was nice to see him enjoying the show.

Assuming Fladnag wasn't using actual magic to do what he was doing, he was an expert at sleight-of-hand. I'd seen magicians on television, but it's a different experience to be standing a few feet from someone performing.

The System allowed me to do things far more incredible than making a ball appear and disappear, but I found myself more impressed by this simple display of skill than I would have been if the man had summoned a hurricane. Magic was one thing, but even though I knew what he was doing was only a trick, I couldn't follow the ball. System abilities were a shortcut into the impossible, whereas this was the appearance of the impossible made possible through sheer practice.

The ball was back in its box a moment later, and we all clapped.

"That was amazing," Esmelda said, "thank you."

"A small thing," Fladnag said, brushing off her praise. "Hardly a wonder for the Lord and Lady of Mount Doom."

"Are you sure you're not a sorcerer," Leto asked.

"Very sure," Fladnag returned the box to its place on the sill. He sat on his bench. “Why don’t you make yourselves comfortable.”

Esmelda, Leto, and I sat on the ground like so many children must have done in years before, gathering to listen to the traveler’s tale. Gastard remained on his horse, as stoic as ever.

“Umberious Rex has been known by many names,” he began. “Your people,” he nodded to Esmelda, “remember him as Lord Umber. The earliest stories of his exploits begin in Dargoth.”

“Our exodus,” Esmelda said.

“Quite right,” Fladnag nodded. “Four heroes led the lillits out of Dargoth, though as I am sure you are familiar with that story, I will tell another.”

“Four?” I asked. I vaguely recalled Esmelda telling me about Mizu’s previous chosen ones, but I didn’t think there had been four of them.

“Yes,” he said, smiling, “if you would be so kind as not to interrupt. Lord Umber, Lady Nadia, Frodo, and David, who is now more commonly and regrettably remembered as Captain Murderface.”

I had more questions, and Esmelda seemed to want to comment as well, but we let him continue.

“After the lillits came to the Free Kingdoms, and their pursuers were rebuffed, the heroes stayed together for a time, recovering from their travails. Then Frodo remained with the little folk to watch after them, but Umber, Nadia, and David traveled further into the lands of men. There was a war going on, as there is always war, and the kingdom of Drom was not yet born. Flussmund and Waldreich were at odds over the stretch of land that would become Drom, which at the time was home to several druidic tribes called the Mendi.

The Mendi did not care to be absorbed into either nation, and they took David as an avatar of their god. With the help of the heroes, the Mendi were soon recognized by the warring powers as being a nation in their own right, and peace was established as they became a buffer between Flosssmund and Waldreich.

David settled there, beloved by the druids, while Umber and Nadia went on in search of more adventures. The world was a more dangerous place in those days, with monsters and sorcerers apart from what is found in Dargoth presenting a perennial threat to humanity. They hunted dragons, and bested giants, and generally made a name for themselves.” He looked at me.

“The Dark Lord could not rest knowing he had been denied his playthings. He sent demons to capture the heroes, and after several attempts, they succeeded in taking Lady Nadia back into Dargoth.”

“That wasn’t me,” I said. “It was the other guy.”

Fladnag nodded. “I know. I would not be here had I not sensed a change in the air of the dark lands. The birds have been speaking, and I listen to birds.”

I glanced up. Harpies were circling above.

“Not those birds,” he said, smiling. “The harpies are a breed of their own.”

“What happened,” Leto asked, annoyed by the interruption.

“Ah, well.” Fladnag sighed. “Lord Umber went after her, of course. And David went with him. They braved the shadows of Dargoth, defied demons and the Dark Lord alike, and found the crystal cage where Lady Nadia had been confined. The cage was guarded by a demon, of course, powerful and old, who sorely tested the heroes. The demon could shape diamonds as if they were clay and armed himself with armor and blades the likes of which the world has not since seen. David took the form of a dragon, and fought him to a standstill, but was sorely wounded.

Lord Umber healed his companion and held back the tide of koroshai and other monsters that appeared to harry them. After many hours of fighting, they defeated the demon and broke through the wall of crystal, only to find that Nadia was gone.”

Leto leaned forward, completely absorbed in the story. “Where did she go? Did the Dark Lord take her to another prison?”

Fladnag shook his head. “She had left this world entirely and returned to the embrace of the goddess. The heroes were simply too late.”

That was Kevin’s game plan for dealing with other survivors. Capture, imprisonment, and torturing them to death until they stopped coming back. It hadn’t worked on me, but as far as I knew, that was an exception to the rule.

“David and Lord Umber returned to the Mendi,” Fladnag said, “defeated even in the hour of their victory. Time went on, and the Mendi became more civilized, as some would put it. They built their own cities, but they were never as numerous as the people of Flossmund or Waldreich, and over many generations, their land grew unrecognizable. Lord Umber became Umberious Rex, the first king of Drom, and he grew old and died, as kings do.”

“The heroes aren't immortal?” I asked.

“Nothing lasts forever,” Fladnag said. “David disappeared with the Mendi, and Umberious lived as a man. He took a queen, and his children ruled after him. I must apologize, the stories I usually tell are more engaging. That was more a history lesson than a proper performance. But I thought you would find it interesting.”

“I thank you for it,” Esmelda said. “The Shui doesn’t tell us much about what happened to Lord Umber after he left our people.”

“It is a strange world we live in,” Fladnag said, picking up his pipe, and finding it empty, replacing it on the bench. “And the years hide much.”

“I’d like to hear more,” I said. “But we are about to begin a journey.”

“A journey,” Fladnag said, “now that is interesting. Is your seat not here?”

“It is,” I said. “But Dargoth is under attack in the north, and I need to do something about it. You can resupply in the fortress if you like, I’m happy to give you whatever you need if you want to continue your travels alone. That being said, you are welcome to join us as well. You could share more stories, and I’m sure Leto would like to see you do a few more tricks along the way.”

“And the illuminators,” Esmelda said, “I haven’t seen one in ages.”

“To the north,” Fladnag mused. “I must admit, I have not traveled so far out of my route in decades, and I could not ask for a better guide in Dargoth than the Dark Lord himself. Are you certain you have room for an old fool like me?”

“Is this wise?” Gastard said. “I mean no offense to you or your art, Fladnag, but we are going into danger.” He glanced at me, “This seems a rash invitation.”

Gastard was less worried for Fladnag’s safety than he was for our own. He didn’t know this man, who was obviously more than he seemed, and bringing an unknown quantity like that along with my family must not have sounded like a good idea on the face of it. But this was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. I’d wanted to find Fladnag when I first heard about him, but searching around the Free Kingdoms for an itinerant entertainer had never reached the top of my to-do list. Now, however, the man in question was on my doorstep, and he hadn’t come here by chance.

“We would be glad to have you,” I said.

Fladnag looked from me to my wife and son, and the shadow of an old sadness passed over his face again.

“Very well,” he said. “How soon shall we be on our way?”

I looked at the sky. The sun was hidden by the storm, but you could gauge the progress of the day by following its highlights in the clouds. “Uh, basically, now.”