The voice cracked into a laugh, and Itani was about to let loose a warning arrow when she spun to find a dark elf emerging from the shadows with hands raised in mock surrender.

  "Easy! It's me."

  Heat rushed to her forehead. It was a familiar face that she hadn't seen in a while. It wasn't the Mardukists at all.

  "You absolute fool, Arad!"

  She lowered the bow, but the adrenaline rush was still making her pulse hammer.

  "What's wrong with you?"

  "I thought you'd be happy to see another Eridu ranger." His grin disappeared when he spotted her weapon. "I didn't expect you to pull your bow on me."

  She exhaled hard, scanning the street in both directions. Luckily, no one paid them attention. Girsu seemed a little more laid back than Lagash: the marketplace droned on as merchants continued to shout out their wares, old women kept shuffling through the streets with wicker baskets under their arms, and there was an enticing smell of roasted meat in the air.

  "Listen, Arad, you can't creep up on people like that."

  "Noted. But it was a laugh, wasn't it?'"

  His face stretched back into a smile, but only for a moment, and then went back to its slack state. He scratched the back of his neck, giving Itani a sheepish look.

  "Really. I'm sorry."

  The tension then suddenly bled from her shoulders. It was just Arad. He'd always been like this, back when they hung out in Eridu, too playful for his own good, reading people about as well as a drunk dwarf recited elvish poetry. But he was harmless.

  "What are you doing here of all places?" Itani asked with genuine interest.

  "Grinding sand lizards. I managed to get a good spot to the south." He gestured vaguely toward the desert. "How about you?"

  "Ah, I'm just passing through, with a caravan."

  He nodded, accepting her vague but honest answer without question.

  "Are you hungry? There's a flatbread place around the corner I really like. My treat."

  She glanced back toward the bazaar where the wheelwright was. The wheel wouldn't be ready for at least an hour, and Anzu had his own errand. She was actually dying to eat something, so a quick meal wouldn't hurt.

  "Alright, sure. But I'm on a tight schedule, so I'll need to leave soon."

  "Ah, no worries. I'm meeting a couple of others for the grinding session, so I can't stay long either."

  They followed the street until the first intersection, where the flatbread kiosk was. It occupied a shaded corner and had steam rising from the griddle as the cook, a middle-aged dwarf, slapped dough onto the hot bronze plate. Arad ordered two flatbreads with butter and a pair of mead shots, to celebrate the occasion, apparently.

  They found a bench with a small table, where they were able to sit.

  "Since we have seen each other in years, I thought a shot of mead would be appropriate, eh?"

  Itani smiled and nodded. Though she didn't feel like celebrating right now, the mead would relax her. And she liked the drink, either way. There was something about the contrast between the honey and the sharp, warm spirit that appealed to her.

  They raised the clay shot glasses and drank. It was maybe a little early for mead, but what the hell.

  Itani bit into the bread, which was still warm and deliciously enhanced by the butter melting into its soft grain. It was simple, but good.

  "So, when was the last time you were in Eridu?" Arad asked between bites.

  Of course, he wanted to talk about Eridu. But it was fine. It was perfectly normal. They were both born there and practically grew up together.

  She kept chewing, though, buying herself time.

  "Not sure. It's been a while."

  "I don't go back often, either. I try to pop back to my parents' place about every six months or so," Arad continued as he chewed on his flatbread, "You know, to let them know everything is fine, and then I can leave again."

  He laughed out loud.

  He then began talking about new hunting grounds and new ranger techniques he'd picked up from a higher-level recently. And this was much better. She definitely preferred this over any discussion of Eridu. And, usually, these topics would really be interesting to her. But right now, so much had happened that was so much above her level that she just couldn't talk about grinding spots and bow-shooting techniques with him.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  She let him ramble, offering nods and short replies, but absolutely steering clear of anything personal.

  "By the way, when I was in Eridu, I went past your parents' place. I saw they still have that old mule. What was her name again? She must be pretty old by now."

  Ah, yes, there he went. Her parents and Eridu. The most annoying thing was that he actually knew she disliked talking about that. Or had he forgotten? Either way, she'll pretend it's fine, and they'll move on to different topics then.

  "Umm, yeah, I guess they do. Its Huzalla, and she must be, like, at least forty years old now."

  Arad laughed out loud, clearly enjoying the conversation. It triggered thinking about the good old days; reminiscing about their childhood; it was fun. Not for her, unfortunately.

  Then he paused, swirling the rest of the mead in his shot glass.

  "My sister wrote to me last week. It was two whole tablets, and the first time in months. It's so hard to keep track of your family when you're not there."

  He looked up and finished his mead.

  "When was the last time you've heard from your..."

  "Arad, don't."

  The word came out harder than she meant. Arad blinked and kept his mouth open on the unfinished question.

  "Ah, yeah, okay..."

  He was struggling to let it go. She could see it in his eyes as they continued bouncing left and right.

  "But is he still with them?"

  Her hand jerked, knocking the mead glass. It tipped, and its contents spilled across the bench in a sticky amber trail. She watched it drip onto the dust.

  "Itani..."

  "I said don't," Itani added, trying to keep her cool, setting the glass upright and wiping her hand on her cloak. "Just... leave it. Leave it."

  Arad's face deflated all of a sudden.

  "Right. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

  "I know.'"

  She stood up and began to brush crumbs from her lap.

  "I need to go."

  Arad rose too, and he seemed quite awkward now, his hands fidgeting with his belt.

  "It was good seeing you, though. Really. I hope we can meet up sometime and talk more properly."

  "It was good seeing you, too, Arad."

  He walked away before she could say more, awkwardly taking the first turn right to another street.

  Oh, gods, Arad.

  Clumsy didn't even begin to describe him. He'd always been like this. All the way back in Eridu, he'd lacked social skills, and it seemed to be the same now. He clearly meant well, she knew that, but some wounds really didn't need poking at.

  She needed to focus on something else now. On easier, manageable things.

  First, the fletcher for arrows, and then the wheel, with Anzu.

  The archives occupied a mud-brick building near Girsu's temple complex. Its entrance was marked by faded cuneiform letters carved into the doorframe. As soon as Anzu stepped inside, the scent of dust, parchment, and clay swirled around his nostrils. It was exactly the smell he'd always imagined the in-game archives would have. Except he'd thought there would be a smell of wax, from the seals. That wasn't present, but oh, well.

  The interior consisted of long hallways that were occupied by rows of shelves at the sides, stacked with parchment scrolls and clay tablets. A single oil lamp flickered near the front desk, where an elderly clerk was examining a ledger as his stylus moved in careful strokes.

  Anzu approached.

  "Can you direct me to the historical section?"

  The clerk glanced up with eyes surrounded by deep wrinkles. He pointed toward the back without a word, then returned to his writing.

  "And, I'll need the section with the Divine Decrees later, as well."

  The man grunted and looked up at Anzu again.

  "That's just to the right of the historical section. You can't miss it."

  Good. Now he knows where to look. The first order of business is the recent history. It was imperative he understood what was happening in detail. When he'd left the game, Larsa was in a good place, as was all of Sumeria. Now, things were much different.

  Itani had already given him a quick run-down of things back in the tavern, but he needed to understand how it connected to the time when he was still in the game.

  Anzu navigated the narrow aisles until he found what he sought: scrolls marked with dates from roughly two hundred years ago. He selected one covering the events and consequences of the Battle of Larsa and unrolled it carefully on a reading table.

  Some of it was still connected to his time spent in-game just before he left.

  After Larsa, the city-states of Sumeria entered a brief golden age. Trade flourished, the arts thrived, and, most importantly, there was no war. The overwhelming victory at the Battle of Larsa ensured this.

  However, it was somewhat of a double-edged sword. Military spending dropped to ceremonial levels because, with the Hero of Larsa and his legendary companions standing guard, who needed soldiers and the expensive production of bronze weapons?

  But then the Akkadians came. They initiated a brisk campaign to their south, while Sumeria squabbled over relatively mundane matters like grain taxes and temple donations. And more importantly, the Hero of Larsa had disappeared. The conquest took less than a decade, and by the time anyone thought to rebuild the military, it was too late.

  And now the Gutians were in control, which they were aided in establishing by the Mardukist priests.

  Luckily, it seemed that Larsa hadn't been affected so much. It was the southernmost Sumerian city. Perhaps too far south for, first, the Akkadians and, later, the Gutians to try to invade?

  He rolled the scroll closed with a tight jaw.

  It was historical patterns all over again. The most fascinating thing about it was that the Battle of Larsa and everything connected to it didn't exist in Anni's world. But it still followed the obvious patterns of human society we see in history.

  Peace and prosperity made people soft, and such people made war inevitable. Then war came, and the cycle repeated itself eventually.

  This was deeply fascinating for the scholar Anni, but for Anzu, who lived in this world, it was excruciating. How did you know what the right steps to take were if society always reverts to its initial state? You didn't. Perhaps, nobody did.

  There wasn't enough time for actual reflection on this, so he placed the scroll back in its place and moved deeper into the archives, moving to the right, as the clerk instructed him. That's where the Divine Decrees should be.

  The decrees were an odd thing, actually. In the Age of Menhirs, the developers tried to assign a lore background to anything that happened in-game. So, these decrees were essentially just developer patch notes, masquerading as decrees issued by the gods.

  He didn't know what this meant in the world he was in now. It was possible that the decrees wouldn't have any mention of his Bounty Karma problem.

  Moving deeper and deeper into the right section of the archives, he finally came upon the right shelves. These were different, as they were stored in a locked cabinet. Luckily, the clerk had left the key in the latch, either being too trusting or simply too old to care. Anzu opened it and began sorting through scroll cases.

  He stopped as he glanced over:

  Decree on the Practice of Ritualism.

  So, it was here after all. The information he'd been seeking ever since he manifested in this world.