The journey to Tharbad took four hours, not the two Marco had optimistically estimated. It turned out that traveling with a traumatized teenager required frequent stops: for water, for rest, and at one particularly awkward moment, for Lira to vomit behind a tree after the reality of what had happened finally hit her.
Marco had done what he could to help. He gave her water from his seemingly endless backpack (which Lira stared at with fascination as the water simply appeared out of nowhere), offered her some food (which she refused, although the smell of the salteñas made her pause for a moment), and most importantly, gave her space.
" She's processing severe trauma ," Alakazam explained during one of the stops. " She's lost her family violently. There are no words that can fix that. Only time. "
"I know," Marco had murmured. "I just wish I could do more."
" You're already doing more than most people would. "
Now, as the sun began to descend toward the horizon, the walls of Tharbad finally appeared in the distance.
And they were truly impressive.
The walls were massive, built of gray stone that had withstood who knows how many centuries. Watchtowers rose at regular intervals, with guards visible even from this distance. The city stretched along both banks of a wide, fast-flowing river that Marco assumed was the Gwathló , with a huge bridge connecting the two sides.
"There it is," Lira said softly, the first time she had spoken in almost an hour. " Tharbad . The city where my father was born."
Marco detected the emotion in her voice: relief mixed with sadness.
—Does your grandmother live on the east side or the west side?
—East. Near the fish market.
"Then that's the way we're going." Marco patted Arcanine . "Hey, buddy, I need you to slow down when we get to the gates. We don't want to scare the guards."
"What if they're already scared?" Arcanine asked in a suspiciously amused tone.
Marco followed the Pokémon 's gaze toward the walls and realized that the guards in the towers had spotted them. Several were aiming bows at them, while others were shouting something he couldn't hear from this distance.
"Damn. Okay , new plan." Marco dismounted and helped Lira down as well. " Arcanine , Alakazam , back in your Poké Balls . We'll go in on foot and looking less... threatening."
" Probably wise ," Alakazam agreed before disappearing in a flash of red light.
Arcanine sighed dramatically but obeyed, and suddenly Marco and Lira were standing alone on the road, about two hundred meters from the main gates.
"Well," said Marco, adjusting his cloak. "Let's do this the old-fashioned way. Walking."
Lira nodded, clutching her small jewelry bag tightly. Together, they began walking toward the doors.
As they drew closer, Marco could see the guards in more detail. There were four at the main gate: two on each side, clad in leather armor reinforced with metal plates at vital points. They carried spears and swords, and their expressions were those of professional suspicion.
The guard on the left, an older man with a gray beard and a scar across his cheek, raised his hand when they were twenty meters away.
—Stop right there! Identify yourselves and declare your purpose in Tharbad .
Marco stopped, keeping his hands visible and his posture relaxed. His newfound understanding of social interactions told him this was standard procedure, not actual hostility.
"My name is Marco Antonio Durán, a traveling merchant." He decided to keep things simple. "I found this young woman on the road. She and her family were attacked by bandits. I'm escorting her back to her grandmother."
The guard's eyes moved toward Lira, noticing her torn and blood-stained dress, her face dirty with tears.
—Is this true, girl?
Lira nodded, her voice small but firm:
—Yes, sir. My family was attacked a day's journey north. This... this man saved me. My grandmother is Marta the Fisherwoman; she lives in the eastern district.
The guard exchanged glances with his colleagues. They clearly knew the name.
" Marta the Fisherwoman? I know the woman." Her expression softened slightly. "Was your father Aldric the carter?"
Lira nodded again, and fresh tears began to roll down her cheeks.
—It was.
The change in the atmosphere was immediate. The guards lowered their spears, and the older man cursed softly.
"Damn bandits. They're getting bolder and bolder." He looked at Marco with newfound appreciation. "Did you say you saved the girl?"
"I intervened when I saw what was happening. I neutralized them without killing them." Marco decided not to mention the Pokémon or the multiversal shop . Less explanation was better. "I thought it was the right thing to do."
"You did well, stranger." The guard stepped aside, gesturing toward the door. "You are welcome in Tharbad . And you, girl, we'll send someone to fetch your grandmother at once."
—Thank you, sir—Lira murmured.
The youngest guard was already running into the city as Marco and Lira passed through the massive gates.
And then Marco had his first real glimpse of a city from the Second Age of Middle-earth.
It was... well, it was exactly what you would expect and nothing like you would imagine at the same time.
The streets were stone, but not the smooth pavement he was used to. It was uneven cobblestone, worn smooth by countless years of traffic. Buildings crammed together on both sides, mostly wood and stone, two or three stories high, with thatched or tiled roofs. There were people everywhere: mostly humans, but Marco also saw some thick-bearded dwarves carrying tools, and he even thought he caught a glimpse of what might have been an elf on a distant corner.
The smell was... intense. Not necessarily bad, just different. River fish, smoke from dozens of chimneys, the mingled scents of bodies without modern deodorant, horses, tanned leather, freshly baked bread, and something that might have been beer.
It was overwhelming in the best possible way.
" Fascinating ," Alakazam commented telepathically from its Poké Ball . " I can sense the minds of thousands of people. This city is so alive. "
" Do you detect any threats? " Marco asked himself mentally.
" Nothing immediate. Curiosity, mostly. Your clothes are unusual by local standards. You stand out. "
Great. Just what I needed.
The young guard returned panting, followed by an older woman who moved surprisingly quickly for someone who must have been at least sixty. She had gray hair tied in a braid, calloused hands from years of work, and eyes that were identical to Lira's.
" Lira?" the woman called , her voice filled with hope and fear. "Is it really you?"
" Grandma!" Lira ran towards her, and the two met in a hug that made Marco have to look away.
There was something universal about a grandmother's hug. It didn't matter the world or the era.
Marta held her granddaughter, murmuring comforting words as Lira sobbed on her shoulder. Then, slowly, the older woman looked up at Marco.
"You," he said, his voice rasping with emotion. "The guard told me you saved my granddaughter."
Marco shrugged, uncomfortable with the attention.
—I only did the right thing, ma'am.
"Just the right thing to do." Marta laughed, though tears welled in her eyes. "Kid, you saved the only thing I have left of my son. That's more than 'the right thing to do.'" She pulled away from Lira but kept an arm around her shoulders. "Come. Both of you. To my house. I need to hear the whole story, and Lira needs a hot meal and a safe place to sleep."
Marco began to protest.
—I don't want to impose—
"I'm not asking," Marta interrupted, her tone immediately reminding Marco of his own grandmother. "I'm ordering. You saved my granddaughter. That makes you part of this family until I say otherwise. Now, are you coming willingly, or do I have to drag you by the ears?"
" I like this woman ," Alakazam commented with amusement.
Marco couldn't help but smile.
—Yes, ma'am. Good things are fine.
Marta nodded approvingly and began to guide them through the streets of Tharbad . The woman walked with the confidence of someone who had lived there all her life, greeting neighbors, dodging carts, and occasionally casting glares at vendors who tried to block her path.
" How long do you plan to stay in Tharbad ?" he asked as they walked.
"Honestly, I hadn't given it much thought," Marco admitted. "I just… arrived in the region. I thought I'd explore, maybe establish some business contacts."
" A shopkeeper, huh?" Marta assessed him critically. "What do you sell?"
That's the million-dollar question. Marco decided to go with a partial truth.
—Rare items from faraway lands. Very far away. Things that people can't normally get.
" Hmm . Sounds interesting." They reached a narrower street near the river, where the smell of fish was stronger. "Well, if you're looking for a place to stay while you're here, there's a decent inn two blocks away. The Golden Bridge. Tell them Marta sent you, and they'll give you a fair price."
—Thank you, I'll keep that in mind.
Marta's house turned out to be small but cozy: two stories, built of stone on the ground floor and wood on the upper floor, with a small garden in the back where fishing nets could be seen drying. Inside, the air smelled of dried herbs and something that was cooking.
"Sit down," Marta ordered, pointing to a wooden table. "Lira, go clean up and change. I have one of your old dresses upstairs." The girl nodded and went upstairs, leaving Marco alone with his grandmother.
Marta moved around the kitchen with practiced efficiency, bringing out bread, cheese, and a bowl of what looked like a stew that had been simmering. She placed everything on the table in front of Marco along with a pitcher of what turned out to be light beer.
"Eat," she said, sitting down opposite him. "And tell me exactly what happened."
Marco ate (the stew was surprisingly good, though nothing like what he'd found in his magic backpack) and recounted the story. He edited out the parts about Pokémon and the multiversal shop , turning it into a tale about his "trained war dog" and his "minor magic skills." Marta listened silently, her expression hardening as Marco described the state of the cart and the bodies.
" Aldric, " he murmured when he finished. "My son. And his wife Vera, his brother Thomas..." He closed his eyes. "They're all gone."
"I am so sorry for your loss," Marco said sincerely.
"The bandits are getting worse," Marta continued, ignoring his sympathy. "It used to be that you could travel in these lands with relative safety. But lately… something is changing. There's more darkness in the world."
Marco felt a chill. He had a pretty good idea of what "darkness" she was talking about.
Sauron .
The Dark Lord was out there somewhere, building his power, preparing for his eventual rise. And although many years would pass before he forged the One Ring, its effects were already being felt.
"I've heard rumors," Marco said carefully. "Of trouble in the east. Of dark things moving."
Marta nodded gloomily.
"More than rumors, lad. The dwarves are talking about bad things up in the mountains. The elves are growing restless. Even here, in a city so far removed from those troubles, we can feel it." She took a swig of her beer. "That's why I'm doubly grateful you showed up when you did. Lira is all I have left. If she had been too…"
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.
Lira came downstairs at that moment, now dressed in a simple but clean dress, her hair braided and her face washed. She looked years younger without the grime and trauma etched on her face.
"Grandma," she said gently. "We need... we need to make arrangements for Dad and the others."
"I know, sweetheart." Marta stood up and hugged her granddaughter. "I'll go talk to the priest and the guards first thing tomorrow. We'll send a patrol to recover the bodies and give them a proper burial." She looked at Marco. "Can you tell them exactly where it was?"
Marco nodded.
"I can draw them a map. And..." he hesitated, then made a decision. "I could go with them. To show them the exact route. The bandits are probably still there, unconscious."
" Marco ," Alakazam warned . " That's risky. You could be putting yourself at unnecessary risk. "
" I know. But it's the right thing to do. "
"You don't have to do that," Marta said, though there was gratitude in her eyes.
"I know. But I want to make sure it's done right." Marco finished his beer. "Besides, maybe the guards can catch those bandits. Prevent them from hurting anyone else."
Marta studied his face for a long moment, then nodded.
—You are a good man, Marco Antonio Durán. Your family must be proud of you.
The comment hit Marco harder than he expected. His family. His mom, his dad, his siblings, his grandma... they were all in another world, probably thinking he'd disappeared. Were they looking for him? Had they called the police?
" Time in your world is stopped ," Alakazam reminded him gently. " You can return to the exact moment you left. "
That helped. A little.
—Thank you —Marco said simply.
They stayed chatting for a while longer. Marta turned out to be an excellent storyteller, telling him stories about Tharbad , about its history as an important trading post between the north and the south, about the ships that traveled up and down the river carrying all kinds of goods.
"If you're looking to establish yourself as a trader here," he eventually said, "you'll need a permit from the Trade Guard. And probably a place to store your goods. There are warehouses available for rent near the docks, but they aren't cheap."
" How not cheap?" Marco asked, curious.
—It depends on the size. A small space would cost you around five silver pieces a month. A medium one, ten. A large one, twenty or more.
Marco had no idea how much that was in real terms. His money was Multiversal Credits, not the local currency.
" System ," he thought, " how much does the local currency cost in credits? "
[CURRENT EXCHANGE RATE:]
1 PIECE OF COPPER = 0.5 CM
1 PIECE OF SILVER = 5 CM
1 PIECE OF GOLD = 50 CM
So five pieces of silver were worth twenty-five credits a month. Absolutely nothing to Marco. Although that raised another question: how was he going to account for his money?
"I'll have to think about it," he said aloud. "For now, I think I'll just explore and see what opportunities are out there."
"Sensible." Marta stood up. "Well, it's late and we all need to rest. Marco, do you have a place to stay?"
—You mentioned an inn...
"The Golden Bridge, yes. But it's too late to go looking for it now." Marta looked at him with that maternal eye that doesn't accept arguments. "I have a guest room upstairs. Small but clean. You can stay tonight. No arguments."
Marco knew that protesting was useless.
—Thank you, ma'am. I appreciate it.
—Call me Marta. And stop being so thankful, or I'll think you're too polite to be a real merchant.
That made Marco laugh.
The guest room turned out to be exactly as Marta had described: small, with a single bed, a small table, and a window overlooking the river. It was simple but clean, and after the day she'd had, it looked perfect.
Marco closed the door, dropped his backpack (which automatically arranged itself in a corner), and sat on the bed.
" What a day, huh?" he murmured.
He took out the three Poké Balls and opened them. Arcanine , Alakazam, and Lapras appeared, though Marco immediately made a gesture of panic.
—Shhh ! Keep the volume down. We don't want to scare Grandma.
" Understood ," Alakazam whispered telepathically. " Day's evaluation? "
"Crazy. Completely crazy." Marco lay back on the bed. "I arrived in a fantasy world, bought a bunch of magical things, met Loki , saved a girl from bandits, and ended up staying at a grandmother's house that reminds me way too much of my own."
"I'd say it was a great day!" Arcanine said cheerfully, though keeping her voice low. "We helped someone! That's always a good thing!"
Lapras sang softly in agreement, his voice like a lullaby.
" And tomorrow you'll go with the guards to recover the bodies ," Alakazam added . " Are you sure about that? It could be dangerous. "
"I know. But I can't just… do nothing." Marco rubbed his face. "Besides, maybe it's a good opportunity to make some contacts. The guards could be useful clients eventually."
" Always thinking like a businessman ."
— Hey , the System put me in this role. I could do it well too.
They remained silent for a moment, the sound of the river outside providing a relaxing background.
"System," Marco called softly. "Question: Is there any way to get local currency without raising suspicion? Because eventually I'm going to need to buy things that I can't just pull out of my magic backpack."
[SEVERAL OPTIONS AVAILABLE:]
CONVERT MULTIVERSAL CREDITS INTO LOCAL CURRENCY (SET RATE) SELL STORE MERCHANDISE FOR LOCAL CURRENCY COMPLETE JOBS/MISSIONS FOR LOCAL CLIENTS
DO YOU WANT TO CONVERT CREDITS NOW?
— What is the conversion rate?
[1 CM = 0.2 PIECES OF SILVER]
[O: 5 CM = 1 PIECE OF SILVER]
It was the same rate as the local currency buying credit. Fair enough.
—Give me... I don't know, a hundred pieces of silver? For initial expenses.
[COST: 500 CM]
[CONFIRM?]
-Confirmed.
There was a soft flash on the small table, and suddenly there was a leather pouch. Marco opened it and found exactly one hundred silver pieces, each about the size of a twenty-peso coin but heavier.
—Perfect. —She put the bag in her backpack (which she automatically organized into a separate pocket mentally labeled "Local Currency" ).— . Credits remaining ?
[TOTAL CREDITS: 1,062,960 CM]
Still more than a million. Marco was doing well financially.
" Okay , team," he said, looking at his Pokémon —The plan for tomorrow: escort the guards, recover the bodies, maybe capture some bandits. Then, explore Tharbad , see what trading opportunities there are. And eventually, I need to start thinking about how I'm going to insert myself into this world more permanently.
" It sounds like a solid plan ," Alakazam agreed .
— Arcanine , Lapras , back to your Poké Balls . You need to rest. Alakazam , you too.
"Good night, Marco!" they said in unison before disappearing in flashes of red light.
Marco changed into some clothes from the store he had bought (because sleeping in travel clothes wasn't comfortable), blew out the only candle in the room, and lay down.
Through the window, he could see the stars of Middle-earth. They were the same constellations he knew, but somehow they seemed brighter, clearer.
His last thought before falling asleep was simple:
Day one: complete. Now all that's left is... well, the rest of my life in a fantasy world.
To be continued...