Chapter 3: The Kingdom of Sur
They crept toward the sound, wary of more bugs. As they pushed through a thicker patch, they found the source.
A man, dressed in a brown work shirt and canvas trousers, was tugging on the reins of a horse hitched to a wooden cart. One of the wheels had sunk deep into a rut. He was muttering to himself, sweat dripping from his forehead.
Steven stepped forward. “Hey! You okay?”
The man jumped, startled. He looked them over—two strangers covered in blood, grass-stained and panting.
“You’re—blasted, what happened to you two?”
“Some kind of bug bit us,” Lucy said. “A lot of bugs.”
The man blinked. “That much blood from bugs?”
“They were huge,” Steven added.
The man scratched his beard, then looked back at the stuck wagon. “Well, can’t do much about that now. I’ve got about a half-day’s ride home, assuming I can get this wheel out. Was just heading back from the market in town.”
He hesitated, then added, “Name’s John.”
Steven offered a hand. “Steven. And this is my sister, Lucy.”
John nodded. “You folks lost?”
“You could say that,” Steven said, glancing at Lucy.
“Well,” John said, gripping the edge of the wagon, “if you’ve got any strength left, I could use a hand.”
Steven and Lucy didn’t hesitate. Together, the three of them rocked the wagon while the horse strained against the harness. After a few hard heaves, the wheel popped loose from the rut with a crack of displaced mud.
John grinned. “There we go.”
He looked them over again. “You two are a mess. I’ve got room for passengers. If you want a warm meal and a chance to clean up, you’re welcome to ride along.”
Steven and Lucy exchanged a glance.
“You’re sure?” Lucy asked.
John gave a single nod. “Sure. Let’s get you patched up.”
And with that, the two siblings climbed onto the back of the wagon, still unsure of where they were—but no longer entirely alone.
The dirt road wound gently between the hills, lit by the strange, golden hue of the low-hanging sun. A soft breeze cooled the air, brushing against Steven and Lucy’s scratched skin as they walked alongside the wooden cart.
John walked beside them, reins in hand. The old horse pulling the wagon moved with a patient rhythm, plodding over the packed earth like it had done it a thousand times before.
“So,” Steven said after a few minutes of quiet, “where exactly are we?”
John gave him a sidelong glance. “You serious?”
Steven shrugged, trying to keep it casual. “We’re... not from around here.”
“You’re in Sur,” John replied simply.
Lucy raised an eyebrow. “Like… south?”
John chuckled. “No. Sur. The country. One of the four major kingdoms.”
Steven glanced at Lucy. “Right. That Sur.”
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John squinted at them. “You two hit your heads or something?”
Lucy opened her mouth, but Steven cut in with a too-loud laugh. “No, no. Just been traveling a while. Got turned around. Lost the map.”
John didn’t seem convinced, but he let it go. “Well, you’re lucky I came through. Another few hours in that field and those biters might’ve made a full meal of you.”
They walked on, the road narrowing slightly between rows of shrubs and small trees.
“You said Sur is one of four?” Lucy asked, adjusting the blanket John had handed her to cover the worst of the damage. Her pajamas were ripped and blood-speckled, the fabric torn at the sleeves and legs, one reindeer nearly missing its head.
“Yep. Norte to the north—cold, mountainous, tough people. Este out east along the coast—trade cities, politics, ports. Oeste is all sand and bones. Not much there but scavengers and things better left buried. Sur’s the good land. Fertile, strong towns, honest work.”
“Sounds like you’ve got opinions,” Steven said.
“I’ve got experience,” John replied with a grin. “But Sur’s home.”
A short silence followed before Steven said, “Thanks again. For helping us out. We probably looked like we crawled out of a hedge maze with a grudge.”
He tugged at his own pajama top—grass-stained, ripped across the shoulder, and dotted with dried blood. “We weren’t exactly making a great first impression.”
They crested a rise, and down below was a small farm tucked between fields of wheat and a dense grove of trees. A modest farmhouse sat near a barn and a pair of stables. Goats meandered near a fence. Smoke drifted from a brick chimney.
John parked the cart beside one of the stables and set the brake. “Home sweet home.”
He led them around back where a steel tub sat on a wooden platform. There were no pipes. No pump. Just a basin, a pile of rags, and a folded towel.
Lucy eyed it skeptically. “This is going to be freezing.”
John frowned. “Why haven’t you started washing off?”
Steven gestured toward the empty tub. “There’s… no water?”
John blinked, then laughed. “You didn’t activate the runes?”
Lucy and Steven looked at each other blankly.
John squinted. “Don’t tell me—you can’t access your Interface.”
Steven hesitated. “Our what?”
John stared at them. “The Interface. You know… the system? For classes, health, tools, town records—basically everything?”
Lucy frowned. “We’ve… never heard of that.”
John’s smile faded. He studied them closely for a moment, then said, “Wait. You’re both well past eighteen. How can you not be synced yet?”
Steven shrugged. “Like we said. We’re not from around here.”
John shook his head, more puzzled than before. “I’ve never heard of a single adult walking around unsynced. Not in Sur. Not anywhere. It happens to kids sometimes if they’re born far out in the wilds or raised off-grid—but not people your age. The Interface bonds you the moment you touch a sync crystal. And they’re everywhere.”
He gestured toward the tub again. “Everything works through it. You can’t use tools, cast basic magic, or even join a guild without it. How are you even managing to walk around without a class? Without a system menu?”
“Blind luck,” Steven muttered.
John didn’t laugh.
Instead, he stepped up to the tub, tapped a small etched glyph on the side, and muttered something under his breath. Instantly, water poured into the basin. Steam rose into the cool air.
Lucy’s mouth fell open.
“There you go,” John said. “Hot as summer. The runes are linked to the Interface. Everyone gets access when they’re eighteen. Usually happens in town—there are syncing crystals. Touch one, and the system binds to you.”
Steven crossed his arms. “So until we find one of those crystals…”
“You’re doing everything the hard way,” John finished.
He pulled a folded tunic and some plain pants from a bag. “Not fancy, but clean. Lady first. Steven, you’re helping me with supper.”
Steven nodded, still trying to wrap his head around what he’d just seen.
While Lucy bathed, he followed John inside. The farmhouse was warm and simple—stone hearth, wooden furniture, the smell of herbs and ash. John moved easily in the space, stirring a pot already warming over the fire.
“You gonna tell me the truth now?” John asked without looking up.
Steven hesitated. “We don’t know where we are. Not just this farm. I mean… at all. We’re not from Sur. Or any kingdom. We woke up in that field with no idea how we got there. The last thing we remember… is Earth. And a meteor.”
John didn’t speak for a while. He just stirred the pot, slow and thoughtful.
“We don’t know what the Interface is. Or why we can’t use it. Or why we’re alive.”
Finally, John turned around. “You’re saying you came from another world?”
Steven nodded once.
John studied him. “Can’t say I’ve heard that one before.”
He went back to the stew, giving it one last stir. “But if you’re here now, and the Interface hasn’t claimed you, then something about you is different. Maybe that’s worth paying attention to.”
Steven sat down, the smell of roasted vegetables and broth filling the room. For the first time in hours, the adrenaline began to wear off.
