The Vassal was an incredible creature. She towered over me, even more than Kaendeer did, and looked like she could snap me like a twig. Her skin carried an interesting hue -- some kind of greenish-purple, yet with no real blue. Most intimidatingly of all, it was clear she was the smartest in the settlement, and when the smartest person in the room has a hunch, it takes a lot for someone more stupid than her to convince her otherwise.
The room she asked me to go to was equally intimidating. It was completely pitch-black, to the extent where the only light came from cracks in the stonework and from under the door. It was a small room, with a crudely-built table and two crudely-built chairs being the only furniture. I took the chair facing the door and accepted that I couldn't see a single thing until she entered.
My breath was taken away when the door opened. The Vassal didn't open doors like a normal person; she opened them like she was going to kill whoever was inside. It took the space of a gasp for the door to go from closed to fully open, revealing her silhouette in the tavern's light.
The Vassal clearly didn't mind that the door was closing to a dark room. She calmly walked over to a corner of the room and did something that I couldn't see. At once, a candle in the corner on the wall was lit. And, of course, it smelled as bad as the other candle.
She looked me over, like she was checking me out except more intimidatingly. "You chose the chair facing the door," she noted. "I suppose you think I am going to kill you."
"A-are you?" I asked.
She grinned cheekily. "I suppose you must think I would do you the honor of killing you in a secluded room," she mused, walking over to the chair, sitting down, and leaning in. Even sitting down, she towered over me. "As much as The Hand puts a value on their rules, in Great Yield we have no such thing. We only have me. I would gleefully slit your throat in front of my patrons." She continued smiling, as if she didn't threaten to just kill me.
I gulped and just stared at her dumbly. She took the opportunity to continue. "The Huntress tells me that she had to give you a Loquiroot. What is your native language?"
"English, but clearly, some kind of different English than what's spoken here..." I managed.
"A different dialect. Do you come from the North or the East?" she pressured.
"Okay, so, if I'm telling you my origin story, I'm telling you all of it," I replied. "It won't make sense without every detail."
"Proceed," she encouraged, sitting back in her chair.
She didn't stop me at any point during my explanation. She didn't ask any questions. At most, she scratched her face at one point, but she clearly took in every word I was saying.
"The future, but a future where The Herd dominates the world," she murmured once I was finished.
"That's right. And they're all called humans. And water is freely available, and giving your name is an act of courtesy even strangers can do. It doesn't lead to..." I gulped. "Intercourse."
"What interesting details," she chuckled. "If this is a lie, your strategy of damning yourself with the most unlikely story was an unwise one. And yet..." She side-eyed me while turning her head to the wall. "Answer quickly. What is your favorite food?"
"Salmon. I don't know if you have salmon here, but it's a commo-"
"Cease," she quickly ordered, holding an open hand in front of my face. "Answer only," she added, retracting her hand. "Are you a landowner?"
"No."
"Are you a serf or a free guardian?"
"We don't use those terms in my time. I'm a 'working class' person."
"So many words," she replied, shaking her head. "But you work for your housing, yes?"
"I guess, yes. I rent."
"Definitely a serf. Name the most powerful person in your world you know of."
"Uh, Donald Trump?"
"Gibberish. A completely made up name," she replied, rolling her catlike eyes. "What color is her hair?"
"Yellow. Not even blonde, yellow. There are memes about it and everything. But he's a he, not a she."
Her eyebrows shot up. "A world with a human as the most powerful person you know??" she asked incredulously.
Human. So, male. "...Is that not common?"
"You must not know many people. Surely Donal Drump has guardians above him."
"No, he's the most powerful man in the world," I answered.
The Vassal's eyes darkened. "You attempt to tell me you are a serf, yet even in your lie, you have made a catastrophic error. You not only know the most powerful person in your world, but know for a fact that no person is more powerful. As connected to the Hands as this table to its very shape."
The Vassal got up and began to reach for something on her belt. I had to say something fast. "In my world, every serf knows who the most powerful person in the world is. It's like how everyone in Great Yield knows you."
She didn't stop, but at least she slowed down. "You mean to say your world is that miniscule?"
"We have this..." Here goes. "...magic in our world. It is called the Internet. Communication can be carried over any distance, instantly. The world works as a global village."
She stopped. "Can you show me this magic?"
Oh fuck. My mind ran cartwheels trying to think of something to say. "I can if you have a computer," I replied, my hilarious honesty lost on all parties except myself. "This magic cannot be performed by The Herd alone."
"Very convenient," she replied, losing her humor entirely.
"If you were brought a millennium into the past, how would you prove it?" I demanded fiercely. "If you're going to say you should kill me or ban me unless I prove myself, you may as well just kill me now." I didn't mean it, I was terrified of death, and of The Vassal, but I hoped this would appeal to her fore forgiving nature.
