Between Cruel Crowns

Chapter 3: Gwen's Whispers of Fate

Despite my rocky beginning, I soon found my way in this new realm and a year passed. Despite consulting with numerous sorcerers, scouring online, and reading books, I couldn't find a way home or even find out who summoned me here.

Eventually, I found myself within the company of Madam Robeswell and her various human... freelance workers. None of the jobs she oversaw was taxed. I had no idea how she laundered the money, and I didn't ask. While I did odd jobs along with many others, most of her workers were either drug dealers or prostitutes or both. I didn't judge. Before I fell in with the Madam, I had a short stint of selling my antianxiety medication to afford necessities. Thank the gods, there was free healthcare even for humans within the kingdom of Brenn.

I lived in a small, dingy apartment with some of my colleagues. It could be worse. One of my other colleagues lived in a duplex where he had to wear earplugs at night to ensure bugs didn't crawl into his ear. Thus, I considered myself extremely fortunate when I thought about how I came to this world penniless without even a pot to piss in. When I first met the Madam, the clothes on my back were threadbare and not even worth a dollar.

Overall, Madam Robeswell treated us fair enough. We only took the jobs we were willing to and just cut her a finder's fee.

At least my limited knowledge of tech was useful. Most of the jobs I now worked were little contracts for hacking people, IT support, or building websites. The technology here was different but similar to Earth. For example, the trains hovered above the tracks, powered by magic, but the printers here still got jammed regularly.

At the moment, I was visiting the warehouse that Madam Robeswell rented for various business ventures. The savings I had from my previous job were rapidly dwindling, so I needed a new contract soon. I sat in the breakroom with some of the more educated freelance workers. I complained about the little wage paid to a low-experience, human worker such as myself for what I thought was high-quality work.

One of my colleagues suggested in a mocking tone, "If you need money, you can always go down to the pier." That was where many of the prostitutes picked up their Johns.

"I'm not going to sleep with men for money." I didn't judge others for doing so, but personally, I knew my own limits.

"The method may be different, but the cash smells just the same."

"Screw you. I know you want me out of the way so you could get that new IT contract."

"I'm just saying if you want a little extra cash, you know where to go." I waved them off. I wasn't going to listen to this.

I was soon called into the Madam's office. We talked for a bit, but she had no positions for me open right now. The only thing she could offer me was a waitressing gig where I would probably be fired within ten minutes for dropping things. Just as quickly as I came in, I left.

Despite being on limited funds, I was bored, and the pier was hosting a traveling carnival this week. I debated my options and decided to check it out. Maybe I would use my last few dollars on a drink or two.

I took the bus over to near the pier. On the way, I reminiscent about riding the bus in college from one class to another. Although it was only a year ago, it felt like another lifetime. I got off the bus and walked a few blocks to the pier. At least, there was good weather today. It was sunny with some clouds in the sky and a pleasant wind in the air.

One of the carnival's welcoming signs advertised a psychic. A current of curiosity built up within me. Considering the presence of magic within this world, maybe this psychic was real. Maybe she could be the one to help me return home.

I soon navigated to the appropriate tent and joined the long queue. When it came to my turn, I handed a young woman at the entrance a five-dollar bill and opened the tent's flap, casually scanning the area. There was an older lady who I assumed was the supposed psychic. Inside, the setup was sparse. There were no tarot cards or crystal ball. Opposite the psychic across the table, there was a chair in front of a mirror on the wall. Interesting. I suppose if someone jumped and pushed their seat out of their seat too quickly, then it would easily shatter, causing seven years of bad luck. I cautiously scooted in as I sat down.