An explosion of sound ripped Astrid violently from her sleep, giving not a care for her rest and instead thrusting her into half-awake panic before her eyes had properly opened. For a moment, the only sound in her room was her own breathing and her thundering heartbeat. Wide eyes took in her surroundings with an outer calm that did not match the state of her mind, taking stock of the room as the memories of yesterday returned to her. The chair she had put under the doorknob still remained, and nothing was different from yesterday evening. She breathed a rattling sigh of relief and sank back onto her bed, letting go of the axe she had grabbed on instinct alone. 

She had arrived at Fortune’s End, and the gunshot that woke her was the man keeping time. She had been led to the ‘saloon’ the old man called it. Then the wood-man, the corpse-mayor in the chair outside. It had been real, after all, as much as these living nightmare people could be considered real she supposed. Her rational side told her that they hadn’t attempted anything to her during the previous day, nor had anyone or anything tampered with her room or tried to come into her room it seemed like. Small mercies, but ones she would gladly embrace for the moment. There were plenty of things she would have to get used to, if she were to get the gold so that she and her family could survive the struggles of recent times. And to get that gold, she would have to get up and start the day. 

Her mind set, she set about getting dressed and rolling her braid up into its customary bun, held in place by her customary iron nails. That done, she donned her hat, put the leather cover back on her axe and sheathed it in her belt. She was about to remove the chair from the door when an errant piece of sunlight snuck through one of the blinds she had set up and struck her square in the face. Just the light alone immediately reminded her of the weather being much hotter than she was used to, and it was unlikely that it would get much better. She contemplated the sleeves on her shirt for a moment before coming to a decision she hoped she would not regret. Grabbing hold at the shoulder with her teeth, and holding the sleeve itself with her free hand, she tore them off unceremoniously while privately apologising to her mother for ruining her clothes. 

Her clothing situation sorted out, Astrid ducked out of her room as quietly as she could, letting the door close with a soft click behind her. The hallway didn’t comment on her caution, though she might have expected it to, in this place. The doors, however, were a somewhat different story. Across the hall and not far from her, she saw the unmistakable writing on one of the doors to another room, the name [i]‘Vergil’[/i] spelled out in what looked too much like blood for her liking. That name had not been there the day before, nor had—she flicked her gaze down the hallway—any of the other names, on the other doors. Had other occupants arrived after her? Had they done this themselves? It would be macabre if they had, but if not them, then—another thought came to her, and she chanced a glance over her own shoulder. 

Astrid stared at the writing on her door, her name clearly marked the room she had been assigned to stay in. She didn't recall giving her name to anyone, in fact the old man she met at the entrance to Fortune Found had not even let her introduce herself. Then how come her name had been spelt out on her door, in what looked far too much like almost-liquid blood? 

Was there some force in the town that knew her? The thought was unsettling, but it led to an even more unnerving thought that skittered its way across her brain. When she had arrived at Fortune’s End she had done so much faster than she had expected. Her bag had been packed for a several month long journey, but seemingly out of nowhere she found herself at the crack in the ground and then suddenly, she was there. It was as if the town itself had moved to meet her, or moved her to meet it. In either case it meant it somehow knew she was looking for it. The thoughts flowed into each other rather naturally, and though there was no evidence to tie them together it all fit too perfectly to not at least hold a grain of truth. If the town knew she was looking for it, knowing her name would be trivial in comparison.

She choked down her own desire to vocalise the very insistent discomfort that wormed its way into her thoughts. Much as she would have preferred to just walk away or stay in the room, she was here now and there was very little she could do about it. She had a goal, a purpose, and if she wanted any chance at all to get that gold, she would need to get out of this hallway first, and then figure out what to do. She just hoped there were more humans here in the centre city. 

With little in the way of other options she made her way down the hallway, pointedly keeping her eyes forward and away from the other doors. The stairs groaned slightly under her as she finally found her way downstairs, and ducking under the doorway and stepping into the common room proper, she found people! Three of them! 

A look of nearly exuberant joy lit up her face as three ordinary, normal human people came into view, prompting a very hearty, “Góðan morgunn!” from her. Belatedly she realised that they likely did not know her mother tongue, making her clear her throat and make a second attempt, this one a little more subdued. 

“Good morning,” she said in a heavy accent. “Are you also ta- tr—Mamma, hvað er orðið?—ah! Are you also travelers?”