As I got closer to the outer walls of Palomp, I was greeted by the sight of a town retreating for the night - farmhands returning after a day of toil under the sun, caravans laden with supplies making for the gates, the friendly banter of adventurers on their way back. I joined the line of people waiting patiently to be allowed in. The sandstone walls of the city glittered under the light of the evening sun. I stood in a trance, taking in everything, almost not noticing the queue shrinking before me. When I was finally at front, a voice called out, “Identification papers, lass”.

  I had none. He saw the blank look on my face and added, “ Anything will do. Your guild cards, a letter of introduction from your village chief or a trade permit perhaps?

  “ I’m a traveling merchant. I lost everything when my carriage broke down”, I went with my usual lie. I could’ve gone with a different lie, but this way I could rely on my backstory in a pinch, should I choose to accept it. I wasn’t particularly thrilled about having that backstory made permanent and had so far resisted the idea.

  “ There are spies everywhere. Without paperwork , you will need someone to vouch for you. Our orders are strict ”, the man said. He had greying hair and wrinkles around his eyes, suggesting he was the oldest among the guards there. His helmet and armour stood out slightly from the rest of the soldiers, clearly indicating his higher rank and making him the perfect target for the backstory push.

  I reluctantly confirmed the ‘naive young merchant’ backstory into one of the two open backstory slots. ‘Forever part of my file now’, I mentally cursed. ‘Let’s just never use it again after today; forget it even exists’, I steeled myself for the coming embarrassment.

  ‘How do I go about using a backstory?’, I wondered. I focused on the man in front of me and pushed the idea. The exact moment the skill came into effect was clear to see. His expression changed from indifference to…concern?

  “Young lady, you should know better than to cut through the dangerous forest without help”. Yes, concern. Fatherly concern? I received a long lecture for being so reckless. It went on for so long that I was beginning to hold up the queue. I half-expected the crowd to complain, but instead they joined in and began to give me a sermon of their own.

  If Iyev was the annoying younger brother, the guard captain was the overprotective father. The waiting crowd was the extended family you never spoke to before, but who still found it appropriate to pile on criticism. They finally let me pass - with the guard captain himself vouching for me and the entry fee waived. I took a careful step towards the open gate. There were half a dozen archers on the wall, languidly going through their day. A stone structure was peeking out from just behind the walls. It had the characteristic vertical-over-horizontal architectural pattern that one associated with a dungeon tower. Okay, associated with towers in general, but that wasn’t exciting. It probably had just three floors, but surely there were more below the ground? Maybe even a hundred floors and a guardian beast.

  Tower climbing was the bread and butter of summoned heroes. I became giddy with excitement and turned back to the guard captain and queried, “Is that a dungeon tower?”

  The guard captain sighed. “It’s just the ravenmaster’s tower, lass”. He hesitated and gave a concerned look. “Are you going to be okay on your own, lass. Do drop by, from time to time to let us know you are safe”. He gave me a look that one would give a helpless puppy.

  I sighed. 'System, any chance you can reduce the effects of that back-story push by half'

  “Where have you been living, lass?”, the guard captain’s deputy interrupted. “ What sort of a dump has no raven tower? Don’t tell me your people still send out riders instead”.

  I couldn't tell him that the humans of earth had perfected near-instant communication. I had to let the bird with a rolled up piece of paper tied to its limbs come out the winner.

  “ No, we also prefer our mail go where it’s taken by the whims of a bird”, I conceded defeat.

  It didn’t appear like the deputy was paying attention as he was still going on with his speech. “Welcome to civilization, lass. It will be quite a culture shock at first. We’ve got ladles now. We’ve even got that fancy bar that everyone takes with them to the bath..what was it called ..aye, soap? That’s the one. It’s one step too far, if you ask me. Too much progress. But that’s Teren for you. Peak of culture and civilization”

  “Okay, you’ve scared the poor lass enough, Marcus”, the guard captain cut him off. He turned to me next and spoke, “Welcome to Palomp, lass”.

  I came face-to-face with the hustle and bustle of a city as soon as I stepped inside. There were vendors advertising their wares at the top of their voice and the cacophony of a dozen men haggling at the same time.

  Asking around, I found out that there were three gates going out of the town - the south gate, which I had come through, the diametrically opposite north gate and finally, the high gate which was in the Nobles’ quarter of the town and reserved for the wealthy. There was a guild branch in close proximity to both the main gates for practical reasons like easy dispatch of units and for shorter material dropoff time. My destination was the north gate guild branch.

  Most of the traffic on the street was on foot. There weren’t many horses, but I noticed something that could only be described as a poor man’s palanquin - It was basically a wide stretcher with a leather roof that was held together by some metal rods and carried around by two men who put most of their points into strength. I was suddenly swarmed by several of these ‘stretcher-bearers’ who offered to take me around the city in their palanquins. I told them I had no coin and they quickly left me alone.

  Streets were lined with vendors on both sides, who called out the passing travelers to peruse their wares. As I was walking past a fruit vendor’s stall, my eyes settled on the prestons put up for sale.

  “Here to buy some prestons, lass? 15 wheels a pop ”, the stall owner said. Wheels. My mind immediately made the connection to the wheels engraved on bronze coins. The bronze coins came in several denominations, but they were all etched with pictures of wheels. The higher denomination coins had more spokes on the wheel and more intricate engravings, but wheels all the same.

  “Here to sell some”, I corrected him.

  His face immediately lost its merchant's charm and hardened. He deliberated for a moment and announced, “ The going rate for sellers is two wheels.”

  “ Two? But you are selling them for fifteen”, I protested. I prepared myself for the dance that was to follow. I had to somehow get him to buy them for a figure approaching ten wheels. I was just about to speak, when I was suddenly consumed by an overwhelming sense of defeat - a desire to hand over the prestons and surrender. I was convinced of my impending loss in the coming transaction, certain of my inevitable failure. I felt light headed and grasped the edge of the table to support myself. My opponent had a smug look of victory, a big smile plastered across his face. But all I could think of was how futile it was to bargain. I wasn’t sure what was happening.

  ‘Two bronze coins - a generous offer. I stand no chance to gain more’, an inner voice compelled me to see reason. That stray thought took root and entangled itself with the part of my mind that still defied. I felt powerless to resist as I emptied my pockets and dropped the four preston fruits onto the table.

  When the haze finally cleared, I noticed I had dropped to my knees. Bronze coins laid scattered next to me on the ground. I picked them up as I unsteadily got to my feet. The fruit vendor was studying me with a satisfied look. “I have never seen an adult fail so blatantly in a contest of wills”, he remarked, adding insult to injury.

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  “You used a skill on me”. I was furious.

  He handwaved away my complaints. “ A low level bargaining skill. Perfectly allowed”.

  I was still fuming at the mental intrusion. It was like all those times when my programming was forcefully rewritten. I clenched my fists and light energy began to concentrate around it. The man must have noticed, because his panic-filled voice cried out, “Woah, easy there, lady. You don‘t think you can get away with using attack magic in a crowded marketplace, do you?”. I showed no signs of stopping and the man’s face lost all its color. “I-It was a legal skill”, he stammered.

  “ Don’t be a hypocrite, Alysa”, the System's familiar voice suddenly spoke to me in my mind. “Just minutes ago you invaded a man’s thoughts to convince him you were a merchant ”.

  I wanted to say it wasn’t the same, but I knew that was probably not true.

  “I normally wouldn’t interfere. I usually leave the heroes alone, to do as they please, to throw their lives away on their own accord, to die by their own stupidity. You are still reeling from the aftereffects of that skill. Take a moment to collect yourself”, System’s friendly warning echoed inside my raging head.

  I looked around to see if someone had spotted my tantrum. If the merchant was right, I had almost broken the law. Suddenly every passing eye appeared to linger over me, every head seemed to be turned in my direction. I knew they were probably just going about their day, but my anxious mind told me that I shouldn’t wait around to be apprehended. I took off running to a back alley, until its shadows and secrets took me.

  I ran until I was out of breath and then collapsed outside the walls of some run-down building.

  “What was that, System?”, I managed to get some words out while trying to catch my breath.

  “A low level bargaining skill, exactly as he said. Only ever intended to make you feel a gentle pressure in your mind to concede a transaction, but its design didn’t account for someone like you. Someone whose will hasn’t progressed at all. This is a harsh world for commoners - every inch has to be claimed, every privilege earned, every right fought for. In such trying times, a man’s will strengthens itself. Most people born in this world are at six or seven for willpower, before they are even at an age when the system and levels become available to them. Less so for sheltered nobles, but they are quick to rectify that at the first chance afforded - using the levels granted by the system to amend what natural progression denied them.”

  I had too many fires to put out, but mental defense quickly climbed up to the top.

  “Attributes can go up on their own?”, I asked. I was intrigued about that bit.

  “Yes, over time, with considerable effort and not by a lot. Harder still, higher up”

  There was something I didn’t want to discuss, but it was best to get it out of the way. “ Did my backstory do the same to the guard captain?”, I hesitantly brought up the matter.

  “ Failing to resist a backstory push simply makes the target more trusting. If you want to play dress-up as an idiot, you may still do so without guilt. Also, a backstory is rare in the way it works, as the check is against intuition and not willpower. Even if the backstory is somehow resisted, the target isn’t made aware they were subjected to a skill. It’s an entirely different matter if the target was another hero. ”

  I let out a sigh of relief. At least I hadn’t put the guard captain through the same. I would have felt bad if I did that to pops. After a brief pause I asked, “So why did you really interfere, System? I know it wasn’t out of concern”

  There was no response for some time, but the system’s answer finally came. “This is all hypothetical, but let’s just say we misplaced a hero.”

  Misplaced? I was sitting right there.

  The system continued, “ The damsel of gates still holds the purchase slip. The Gods hate to give out refunds.”

  Was there really a damsel out there standing around with a purchase slip? I had given up hope of ever understanding how much, of what anyone from this world said, was some unhelpful metaphor and how much was just word salad. An infuriating way of speaking. I was most fortunate not to suffer from the same character defect; certainly not one to hold others to conversational standards I couldn’t live up to myself.

  “You might have skipped a few pages there - an entire volume perhaps? What is a damsel of gates, System? ”, I asked.

  “Each summoning ritual is overseen by a damsel of gates. Usually a princess, sometimes the queen or king’s mistress. It’s just a name that stuck. The lady who opens the gates and invites the hero into this world - makes sense? Blessing stones were paid, but no hero was delivered.”

  “You can always point me in the direction of my summoner”, I stated the obvious solution to all our problems.

  “I am not allowed, even if I knew who summoned you. But I truly have no knowledge of who summoned you. Everything is strictly compartmentalized. Everyone has a separate instance of the system that runs in its own sandbox. This not only ensures that your chats with the system stay private, but the system instances can also be more tailored to mirror the personality and quirks of its user.”

  The system modeled its personality after its users? I had some self-reflecting to do.

  “But it’s not just that”, the System added. “Without the damsel to show the ropes, the hero might as well be a bumbling idiot”, the system declared.

  “So you are filling that role instead..My damsel”, I joked. When no response came, I quickly added, “Oh don’t burn up your circuits, I jest”.

  “My hero..”, the system finally replied, almost giving her voice the tone of a rescued damsel.

  I let out the most undignified laugh and then settled into an awkward silence.

  Then a thought struck me. I suddenly channeled my inner Bob the blob and asked , “Am I owed compensation?”

  “Compensation?”

  “Compensation for the failed summoning”, I clarified. “You dropped me off at the wrong address. A different zipcode even”, I complained.

  “Shall I go fetch a legendary sword out of a lake for you?”

  “No, I will settle for what I got paid the last time”, I stated flatly.

  “The last time? Is this a regular thing with you?”, came the reply, the hint of amusement in the system’s voice quite evident.

  I merely shrugged.

  “Just wondering if I had to start a tab”, the system said dryly.

  “Care to waive your compensation in exchange for keeping your secret?”, the system asked in a conspiratorial tone.

  “My secret..?”, I asked. ‘Here it comes’, I thought. The ones and zeros were about to be laid out bare for judgement and subsequent dismantlement.

  “That the mighty hero Alysa was brought to her knees by a fruit vendor”.

  Oh that secret. My fears were for nought. “I have thick skin. I’ll take that compensation instead. Same as last time? Five system points, two attribute points?”

  “ Too expensive. The heavens have fallen on hard times lately. Too many frivolous lawsuits looking for ..compensation”, the system responded with added emphasis on the last word.

  “Serves you right for employing storks to deliver heroes. Best not to leave these things to the whims of birds”.

  “We run a slightly more sophisticated operation than that”, the system claimed.

  “ Yes, so I’ve heard. Coupons and stones.”

  “Fine , I will award you one skill point for your utterly shameless attempt to claim compensation.”

  I shrugged. “ I won’t haggle. I’ve hung up my dancing boots.”

  Then the System disappeared, leaving me with a new message

  “You have been awarded 1 system point for the absolute shamelessness of your request.”

  Almost as an afterthought, the system’s voice pinged again, “I might have crossed a line earlier, by interfering”.

  I shook my head. “But you made sure I didn’t. I’m grateful”