The journey to Silverwood took the better part of the day. Holding Arthur's hand, while initially inducing a level of internal fluster that could power a small city, did significantly reduce my encounters with gravity. He pointed out various flora and fauna, explaining their (sometimes alarming) properties with an easy familiarity. I learned that the fluffy, cotton-like plants were actually highly flammable "fire blossoms," and the melodious birds we'd seen earlier had a surprisingly potent paralytic venom in their talons. My appreciation for the relatively benign wildlife of Earth grew exponentially.
As we approached Silverwood, the quaint charm of Oakhaven was replaced by a bustling energy. The town was larger, with more imposing stone buildings, a lively marketplace overflowing with strange and wonderful wares, and a general air of purposeful activity. People of all shapes and sizes, and even a few with distinctly pointed ears, bustled through the streets.
The moment we entered Silverwood, I became aware of the stares. It wasn't malicious, not exactly, but it was… intense. My modern clothing, which had seemed merely out of place in Oakhaven, felt positively alien here. It was like walking through a Renaissance fair in a neon tracksuit.
"Don't worry," Arthur murmured, squeezing my hand gently. "They're just curious. They probably haven't seen anyone dressed quite like you before."
"You mean like I raided a particularly uninspired thrift store after a power outage?" I quipped, trying to inject some humor into my growing discomfort.
Arthur chuckled. "Something like that."
He led me through the crowded marketplace, a sensory overload of exotic smells, vibrant colors, and the cacophony of bartering voices. I gawked at the stalls selling shimmering fabrics, intricately crafted weapons, and strange, glowing potions. It was like stepping into the concept art of all my favorite fantasy games.
"We should find an inn," Arthur said, navigating the throng with practiced ease. "Somewhere you can rest and we can discuss… your situation."
Finding an inn wasn't difficult. The "Silver Stag" looked respectable enough, with a sturdy wooden sign depicting a rather majestic-looking deer with (you guessed it) silvery antlers. The common room was just as bustling as the marketplace, filled with travelers, merchants, and locals enjoying a midday meal.
The innkeeper, a stout man with a booming laugh and a surprisingly well-groomed mustache, eyed me with the same intense curiosity as everyone else.
"Well now, Arthur," he boomed, wiping his hands on a stained apron. "Who's this unusual-looking lass you've brought in?"
"This is Lauren, Master Borin," Arthur explained. "She's a traveler from a… very distant land. She needs a room for a few nights."
Master Borin's gaze intensified, lingering on my jeans. "Distant, you say? Never seen clothes like that before. Looks… practical, I suppose." He then winked at Arthur. "Though not quite as… eye-catching as some of the attire we see from the Ornicar Kingdom."
I resisted the urge to disappear into the nearest potted plant. The Ornicar Kingdom? That was the one ruled by the French speakers, right? I had a feeling their fashion sense was probably a few galaxies away from my faded band t-shirt.
Arthur secured a small, private room for me, and we settled down in a quieter corner of the common room with some more of that delicious local bread and a surprisingly potent cheese.
"So," Arthur began, his expression turning serious. "We need to figure out what to do next. Getting you back to your… continent might not be easy. The seas are vast, and travel to unknown lands is… well, unknown."
My heart sank a little. The initial thrill of being in a fantasy world was starting to wear off, replaced by a growing sense of being truly, utterly stranded.
"Right," I said, nibbling on the cheese. It had a sharp, tangy flavor that was surprisingly addictive. "So, no interdimensional bus station then?"
Arthur looked confused. "Interdimensional… bus station?"
"Never mind," I sighed. My attempts at humor were clearly not translating well across dimensions.
"Perhaps there are mages who specialize in teleportation or planar travel," Arthur mused, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "We could inquire at the mage's guild here in Silverwood."
The mage's guild? That sounded promising! Maybe they had a big, glowing portal labeled "Earth – One Way Ticket."
"That sounds like a plan," I said, a flicker of hope igniting within me. "Where is this… mage's guild?"
"It's in the northern district," Arthur replied. "A rather imposing tower. You can't miss it."
As we finished our meal, I couldn't help but notice the continued stares. People would subtly turn their heads as we walked by, their eyes wide with curiosity. Some even whispered to each other, their gazes flitting between Arthur and my decidedly un-magical appearance.
One young boy, no older than ten, pointed at my sneakers with wide-eyed wonder. "Look, mama! He's wearing foot-gloves!"
I stifled a giggle. Foot-gloves. Actually, that was a pretty accurate description.
Later that afternoon, Arthur and I made our way to the northern district. The architecture here was grander, with tall, spiraling towers and buildings adorned with intricate carvings. And there it was, just as Arthur had said: an imposing tower that seemed to pierce the sky, its stonework imbued with a faint, almost imperceptible shimmer. This was definitely the mage's guild.
As we approached the entrance, a stern-looking woman in flowing robes and spectacles perched on her nose stood guard. She eyed me with an even more intense scrutiny than the townsfolk.
"State your business," she said, her voice crisp and authoritative.
"We wish to speak with a mage regarding… interdimensional travel," Arthur said politely.
The woman's spectacles nearly fell off her nose. "Interdimensional travel? That is a highly specialized and… rare field of study." Her gaze returned to me, as if I was somehow responsible for this outlandish request.
"My… companion here is from another world," Arthur explained, gesturing towards me.
The woman's eyes widened further. "Another world? Preposterous! Such things are mere legend!"
"It's true," I chimed in, feeling a sudden urge to prove my otherworldliness. "We have these things called… smartphones. They can access a vast network of information and entertainment." I even mimed scrolling through my phone.
The woman looked utterly unconvinced. "A… smart… phone? Sounds like some sort of enchanted trinket."
After a lengthy and somewhat frustrating explanation from Arthur, the stern gatekeeper finally agreed to allow us to speak with a senior mage. We were led into a dimly lit chamber filled with bubbling cauldrons, stacks of ancient-looking books, and strange, glowing artifacts. The air hummed with a palpable magical energy that made the hairs on my arms stand on end.
Seated at a large, cluttered desk was an elderly mage with a long white beard that reached his knees and eyes that seemed to hold the wisdom of centuries. He peered at us over a pair of half-moon spectacles, his expression a mixture of curiosity and skepticism.
Arthur explained my situation, recounting my bizarre arrival via the interdimensional puddle. The mage listened intently, occasionally stroking his beard and emitting a thoughtful "hmm."
When Arthur finished, the mage turned his gaze to me. "So, young one, you claim to be from another… dimension?"
"Yes, sir," I said earnestly. "My world is called Earth. We don't have magic, but we have… technology." I launched into another slightly rambling explanation of things like cars, computers, and the internet, trying to paint a picture of my home.
The mage listened patiently, but his expression remained unconvinced. "Fascinating… theories. But interdimensional travel is a complex and dangerous undertaking. The energies involved are volatile, and the pathways between worlds are rarely stable."
"So, you can't just, like, open a portal?" I asked, my hope dwindling.
The mage chuckled, a dry, crackling sound. "Open a portal like opening a door? My dear child, it is not so simple. It requires immense power, precise calculations, and a thorough understanding of the very fabric of reality." He sighed. "And frankly, such expertise is… uncommon."
My shoulders slumped. It seemed my hopes of a quick trip home via magical portal were dashed.
"However," the mage continued, his eyes twinkling slightly, "there are legends… ancient texts that speak of stable crossings between worlds. But these are often guarded, hidden, or require specific artifacts to activate."
"Artifacts?" I perked up. "Like what kind of artifacts?"
The mage steepled his fingers. "Objects of immense power, often tied to specific celestial events or imbued with the essence of a particular world. Finding such things… would be a quest in itself."
A quest. Of course. This was a fantasy world, after all. Why would anything be easy?
As we left the mage's guild, the reality of my situation sank in. I wasn't going home anytime soon. I was stranded in a strange world with no special powers and a wardrobe that made me the subject of constant, albeit mostly harmless, scrutiny.
"So," I said to Arthur, trying to sound more upbeat than I felt, "a quest for interdimensional artifacts it is then?"
Arthur looked at me, his blue eyes filled with a mixture of sympathy and determination. "If that's what it takes to get you home, Lauren, then we'll find them."
His unwavering kindness, despite my utter lack of contribution to this whole "getting me un-isekai'd" situation, was surprisingly touching. Maybe being the useless sidekick wouldn't be so bad after all, especially if the hero was this genuinely good.
As we walked back towards the Silver Stag, the setting sun casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets, I couldn't help but think about all the adventures that lay ahead. Dangerous monsters, ancient ruins, perhaps even a grumpy dragon or two. And me? I'd be right there, probably tripping over my own feet and offering unsolicited (and likely inaccurate) advice based on my extensive knowledge of fictional worlds.
This wasn't my manga, and I definitely wasn't the overpowered protagonist. But maybe, just maybe, I could still have a somewhat interesting story. Even if my "cheat skill" was currently limited to identifying surprisingly accurate foot-glove descriptions.