The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 321: City of Portals

Mason had the skinny looking elf's throat in his hand before it managed to grab whatever it was reaching for. His experience in the fey had him somewhere between frustrated, panicked, and enraged, and it took just about every scrap of will not to squeeze.

He met the thing's eyes, and they stared until Mason's breathing slowed, his rational mind regaining control.

"Where am I? And who are you?"

The elf finally blinked, slowly softening his hand to pick up what looked like...eye glasses.

He lifted them slowly, as if not to disturb the wild animal before him, and placed them on his face.

"Y-you..." the elf closed his eyes and tried to swallow, and Mason eased his grip. "Thank you. You're in Sharisse. My name is Amit. I am one of the caretakers of the Common Library."

Sharisse. Elves. Wasn't that where Naya said she was from?

Mason thought so but he wasn't sure, and cursed himself for not paying more attention. He decided to assume yes. But why would some random fey creature send him here?

"Could you possibly...I am unarmed, sir, and no threat to you. So if you don't intend to..."

"What? Oh."

Mason let go of the elf's throat and looked around. He appears to be standing in the middle of some kind of circle painted on a wooden floor. All around him were shelves of books, dimly lit in a large room with several floors above. A minute ago he'd expected 'horrible, fey trap of misery', not 'some elf's library.'

"Thank you," said the elf, rubbing his throat, looking intensely at Mason. "How did you come through this portal?"

"I have no idea," Mason said. He saw little reason to doubt the elf or lie, and he sensed no danger or hostility nearby anywhere. He snapped. "I was in the fey, and something..." he blinked and spun, then realized: he was alone.

"My wolf," he said, a spike of panic shooting through him. He reached out with his senses, his connection, with Speak with Nature. He felt his existence—he knew Streak was alive and unharmed. Somewhere. But that was all. His mental presence was completely blank.

"I had a wolf," he said, the urgency and violence coming back. "He was right with me. He should be here. Is there another portal? Some other kind of..." he shrugged helplessly, rational mind knowing some random elf wouldn't have a damn clue what he was talking about. The bespectacled elf frowned.

"It sounds like you encountered one of many fey tricksters. A satyr, maybe, or any number of the Unseelie."

Mason wasn’t much interested in hearing about bullshit worldbuilding. The man wouldn't know anything or be useful. Streak was maybe lost in that terrible place that seemed not to like him much. And he'd been terrified of it.

Mason put a hand to his head and looked through his powers. He never should have taken the animal inside. Stupid. Stupid.

He tried to activate Wyrdwalking, but it didn't just fail. It wasn't just on cooldown. It was entirely greyed out, as if it wasn't even possible to use it here.

"Why can't I wyrdwalk?" he said. "I need to go back to the fey. Now."

"I should like to help you do just that," said the elf, then licked his lips. "But I'm afraid…it's not so simple. This ity is not technically in the fey, it’s...hovering, somewhere between the fey and the material plane. It's actually a very interesting planar story. When the original elves of the East came to this continent, their wizards..."

Mason grabbed the elf by his shirt and lifted him a good three feet.

"Help me get my friend, or tell me who can. Or I have no use for you."

The elf held out trembling hands, licking his lips as he seemed to comprehend he was in more danger than he'd realized. Not that Mason intended to really hurt him. Though the chances of tossing him across the room in anger were decently high.

"The council...they can help you. But we'll have to go to them. They're in sceance…that is, in a retreat, it's not far...but there's many warriors. It would be much easier if...you will need my help. I..."

Mason put the elf down and sighed.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He cursed and shook his head. "God damnit I was just trying to get home. I have so much to do."

The elf seemed to really look at Mason for the first time, and his eyes glazed. Then he pulled back in something like shock as he stared.

"Y-you...you're...an elf lord? There are elves sworn in service to you?"

Mason shrugged, and the librarian's shoulders slumped.

"You are the human. The one betrothed to Baroness Anshan," he said, as if he'd understood something he didn't much enjoy.

Mason said nothing, and the man shook his head.

"It was an Unseelie you met," he said with a sigh. When Mason still said nothing, the elf licked his lips and explained.

"The Unseelie are…dark fey, at least to us. They do not worship the fey gods, or any gods, at least none that we know of. Their magic is as cruel and twisted as their bodies. And they do not choose a place to send their targets with teleportation, as we might. With the Unseelie it’s more like… a feeling, or an idea. Like 'childhood home', or 'place they're most afraid of'. It's likely why you and your...friend, did not arrive at the same location."

Mason pinched his nose, knowing he needed to try and understand to find Streak.

"And what category do you think would have landed me here?"

The librarian pursed his lips as if in consolation.

"I don't know, human. But 'most unfortunate' would not be far off. You will not be welcome, I'm afraid."

Mason nodded, thinking about the little Naya told him about her people and their reaction to the proposal.

"Great," he said, wondering what the worst possible place for Streak might have been. "Just great."

* * *

Amit the elven librarian led Mason to a smaller room in the library, and pulled some clothes out of a chest.

"Wear this," he said, "and pull the hood over your head. You will be looked at as strange, but there are some nomads yet who travel in the old ways and with ancient garb."

Mason took the cloak and pants and put them on without protest. The pants were too short, but Amit found Mason some high boots that covered the distance. His feet were too big, but he managed to squeeze them inside.

"Why are you helping me?" Mason said. "I told you I wouldn't hurt you."

Amit stopped and frowned, his jaw clenching slightly before he seemed to make a decision.

"House Anshan is old and honorable. Their lord was a good man, and he served this city as much or more than any. He was owed much by many." Here he shook his head and spoke softly. "Perhaps his faith made him a fool, in the end. But to have his house and line banished...” The elf shook his head. “The council went too far."

"And what will happen to you if you're caught helping me, Amit?"

The librarian snorted, then seemed to actually consider this and swallowed.

"I'm meaningless enough." He grinned a little and met Mason's eyes. "Anyway. I'll just tell them you said you'd kill me."

Mason matched the grin and held out his hand.

"Name's Mason. And I'm sorry. About the throat. And the shirt."

The elf mostly stared at Mason's hand before touching his fingers to his temple the same way the others had when they entered Nassau.

"You also almost ruined my pants. But apology accepted."

Mason’s grin turned into a smile.

After they'd both changed slightly, Amit was taking a series of deep breaths and looked considerably less sure of himself when they reached the door.

"What else should I bring?" he muttered to himself, then made a sound like 'oh!' and ran back to collect something out of a cabinet. "We'll need tokens. And a bit of money, maybe. Oh bother." He looked at Mason a little sheepishly. "I don't do this sort of thing very often."

"Smuggle humans into secret council meetings?"

"No." Amit snorted. "Well, that too. But I mean travel the city. Or leave the library, for that matter. Sharisse is a bit complicated."

With that he made another 'oh' sound and wrote a note, leaving it on a table next to the door.

"Alright," he said, with a final breath, handing Mason a round piece of wood covered in symbols. "Don't lose that. But it should work. I don't think humans should be any...well, we'll have to just try. Are you ready?"

"Uh." Mason held the token and shrugged. "Yes?"

"Here we go." The librarian put a hand on the door about the same moment Mason realized it didn't have a handle. He grabbed Mason with the other hand, and the familiar feeling of dungeon travel moved over him even before he saw the text.

[Entering Secret Planar Dungeon: Sharisse.]

[Title gained: Traveler to the City of Portals. +2 intellect ]

Then Mason and Amit were standing on a circular platform covered in a translucent sort of shield. It felt like being inside a giant bubble. Literally all around them were what looked like circular mirrors, all surrounded by symbols Mason couldn't read.

"Well. At least that worked. Now I just need to remember...ah yes. This way. Come along."

Amit walked up to a mirror that looked the same as all the others, and again reached for Mason's hand. He mostly just stared in wonder at the place.

"Oh. Yes. I suppose you'd be confused. This is a kind of...travel center. Do you have, um...well, I'm afraid I don't know anything about humans. Anyway, we call them Waygates. Much easier to make permanent locations when it comes to teleportation, you see.

"Uh huh," Mason muttered, taking the elf's wrist. Then the 'waygate' vanished just as quick, and the world got darker, the air moist and warm.

Suddenly they were standing in a small room that looked like it belonged in some forest cabin, the walls made of beautiful, interlocking logs.

"Thank Luna, we're alone. But don't remove your hood. I'll need to find out where the council is, and then we'll...frankly I don't know what we'll do...but..."

"Amit," Mason said, nostrils flaring before he turned around.

"Wait, this is important. Once I've found the council, I'll..."

As Mason stared at the naked, submerged elf sitting in a large, wooden tub, she cleared her throat. Amit cringed and turned.

Two other tubs were fortunately empty, with just the single, female elf staring at them with surprising calm.

"Hello, Amit," said the maybe thirty-ish looking woman, her dark, wet hair spilling over the side of the tub. She raised one hand to drink from a wooden cup. "You were saying? You would find the council, and then...?"

"Blessings, Councilwoman," said Amit, his face turning a color of red usually found in birds. "I fear I...may have...input the wrong...might I introduce my...this is..."

"Naya's mother," Mason said, practically looking at the spitting image of his betrothed. He pulled back his hood and sighed. "I'm sorry she didn't tell me your name. I'm the human who's supposed to marry your daughter. Which I expect you're not very happy about. But I need your help."

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