Summoning America

Chapter 196: Echoes from Within

Author's Note:
Want some more modern military vs fantasy content? Check out Manifest Fantasy, my latest work!

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Esthirant, Parpaldian Republic

Zack Holloway eyed the steaming cup of kafa — Esthirant's liquid lifeline — and wondered if the locals had secretly cracked interdimensional travel long before Earth stumbled into this magical mess. How else could they nail the perfect brew while still thinking electricity was black magic?

He snorted at his own joke, earning a few sideways glances from nearby patrons. Six months in, and he still stood out like a smartphone at a Renaissance fair. Well, probably because he was in fact using a smartphone, and because Esthirant was a Renaissace-era city. Or was it Napoleonic? He could never get that right.

"Your morning repast, good sir," the waiter announced with a slight bow, setting down a plate that would give Gordon Ramsay an aneurysm. The "bread" looked like it had lost a fight with a beet, and the "cheese" was doing its best impression of sentient goo. Looks aside, it actually tasted pretty decent.

"Much obliged, Etrean," Zack said, trying not to think about the McGriddles haunting his dreams. "How's the family?"

The waiter's professional mask cracked into a genuine smile. "They are in good health, I thank you. My daughter is most intrigued by the 'daguerreotypes' your people have introduced."

Zack grinned. "Wait 'til she sees TikTok. On second thought, maybe don't show her that."

As Etrean moved away with another bow, Zack tugged at his cravat, silently cursing GE's 'When in Rome' dress code. Did it have to be so scruffy? The tailcoat and waistcoat helped him blend in... somewhat. But the smartphone he'd just slipped into his pocket was a dead giveaway.

A commotion near the entrance drew his attention. A group of nobles — distinct in their embroidered frock coats and haughty expressions — clustered around the maître d', their voices rising with each passing second. He knew exactly what they were: Karens. At least, the Parpaldian version of them.

"—utterly preposterous!" one of them said, his face looking like steam might pop out at any moment. "First, they invade our streets with their iron carriages, and now they dare to infiltrate our dining establishments?"

Zack's fork paused halfway to his mouth. Great. Bacon and a side of xenophobia. Just how he liked to start his mornings. Now, he was a pretty progressive-thinking guy, but man did these Parpaldians make him want to rethink that. If anything, it was he who had justification for xenophobia. They were doing the Parpaldians a favor, uplifting their backwards society, and this is how they treated them?

He listened in to their conversation. The maître d', a petite woman with a stern expression, held her ground. "My lords, I must insist you lower your voices. You're disturbing our patrons."

"Disturbing the patrons?" another noble scoffed. "What of our disturbance at finding our traditions trampled upon?"

The maître d's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. Without a word, she turned and caught Etrean's eye, giving him a subtle nod. She murmured something to him as she passed, her words too low for Zack to catch. With a final glance at the nobles, she slipped out through a side door.

The nobles, oblivious to this exchange and satisfied with their perceived victory, began to scan the room. Of course, the noble who was blabbering earlier landed his eyes directly on him, narrowing them as recognition and distaste spread across his features. Oh boy.

"You there," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous timbre. "You're one of those American interlopers desecrating our hallowed quarter."

Zack set down his fork, weighing his options. Debate the merits of modernization? Make a run for it? Talk shit? Oh, he definitely felt like talking shit, but he was outnumbered, and it probably wouldn't look good.