Wheels of Fire

A Name Overheard

A man wearing a fiery red cloak slipped into a bar in some no-name Edolas town. Narrow eyes shifted one way, then the other. It was a smoky bar with twangy music playing from some strange device the hooded man did not recognize, not the clear music of magical lacrima recorders, but scratchy and coarse.

An elderly eye-patch-wearing bartender looked up from where he stood mindlessly wiping glasses behind a bar. "Come on in, stranger," he encouraged. "We don't get many visitors around here."

Those shifty sage-green eyes narrowed hard, and the hooded man whispered. "Hades?" Although this Edolas lookalike sported a friendly, beaming smile rather than a sadistic smirk, that voice, the lengthy white beard, and the eye patch were unmistakable.

"Hades? Nah. The name's Precht. Are you passing through?" the bartender asked.

"Uh, yeah. I don't plan on staying long."

"Well, help yourself to a menu. What can I get you to drink?"

"Just water for now," Natsu said cautiously. He sat at the bar and took the offered paper menu with only ten choices of meals. He had not noticed a name outside of this bar, but now he saw it printed on the top of the menu. Grimoire Heart! His eyes flicked back up. "Precht ... Gaebolg?"

"Eh? Nope, Precht Cúchulainn. Here's your water, mister." With a gentle smile, he set a glass down. "Take your time deciding. Things move slowly in this town, and so do I, haha!"

Those narrow eyes followed the old man warily. Hades! No, this was Edolas, where the man named Precht was a bartender in a hick town's only saloon called, of all things, Grimoire Heart. This whole dimension was seriously screwed up.

"Ya hiding?"

Natsu jolted in alarm.

"Ah, no need to get up in arms, sonny," the old bartender assured lightly. "It's hot out, yet you're wearing a cloak with the hood up. Sorry to say, but it's a tad obvious ya don't wanna show your face, hiding from someone. No worries. This here's a town where people just pass through, people who usually don't want to be seen in the big cities, and we don't mind what their business may be, so long as they don't cause trouble. We're such a small spitball of a town, we ain't got no police, just one sheriff who is over there." He nodded to a man passed out drunk across a table. "He ain't been sober in ten years and ain't arrested no one in twice that time."

"Bluenote," Natsu whispered. He gazed around the saloon and saw others who had familiar faces. "Azuma. Rustyrose." His eyes narrowed at a face he would never forget. "Zancrow!"

He glared at the blond. He looked almost the same, but instead of wild spiky blond hair, his hair was smoothly held back in a ponytail, where it flared out in something like a spiked tail. He held a wineglass and swirled the red liquid while sniffing it in a refined way. It was obvious that this was a different sort of Zancrow.

Precht tilted his head. "Ya know 'em?"

He jolted, and when he did his hood fell back, exposing Natsu's pink hair. "Ah!" He yanked the hood back up.

Precht shrugged nonchalantly. "Like I said, ya stick out with the hood, and we don't care who you are out in the big world. Relax, stranger. This town is safe for anyone. Why, they even took in a wanted criminal like me."

Natsu jolted harder. "Wanted?"

Precht chuckled and leaned back against the alcohol shelf. "You'd never believe it, but I used to be the leader of a bona-fide dark guild."

"Fairy Tail," Natsu whispered. So, some things about this dimension really were the same. Precht Gaebolg had been the second master of Fairy Tail back in Earthland.