I don't know where to start a story like this one. Pretty much anywhere I start, it's going to get really confusing. If you're anything like me, you're going to be wondering what the hell is going on and where any of this is going. All I can ask is, for now, just go with it. It'll start to make some sense eventually. Some.

So... I guess Zalaria is as good a place to start as any. These are the notes Deejay had on that place from his past visits:

Entry #201

Location: Earth 5-C, Eurasia, the island nation of Zalaria

Summary: The system of government seems to be your standard monarchy. Their society bears some resemblance to Britain on Earth Prime around the Victorian era (I think, history was never my strong suit). Technologically, they seem to be stuck in the Middle Ages. This seems to be owed largely to their government taking a very isolationist approach to foreign policy instead of doing the whole conquering the world thing. Thankfully, they at least have the beginnings of modern plumbing. There is a series of aqueducts under the streets of the capitol, but I haven't had the pleasure of checking them out yet.

Deejay was sitting at a sort of outdoor cafe, going over his notes. A noble gentleman was seated across the table from him. The gentleman was dressed in his finest attire, sporting a closely-trimmed beard. In almost violent contrast, Deejay was dressed as usual like some kind of hipster Pokemon trainer... Um, do me a favor, don't tell him I said that. He's already got an unhealthy fixation on pop culture references. I don't want to encourage it. Anyway, in this case he wore a dark grey hoodie with an artistic rendering of an atom on the front, blue jeans, dark blue utility belt (I'm not sure what else to call that thing), black finger-less gloves, and white sneakers. His spiky blonde hair was barely contained under a black bucket hat. The gentleman waited patiently while Deejay flipped through his notes.

“Let's see, where did we leave off...?” He wondered aloud. “Ah, okay, here we go. 'Compared to this time last year, would you say your nation's economy is doing better, worse, or about the same?'”

“Hmm...” The gentleman stroked his beard as he thought. “Well, I recall that taxes were slightly higher this time last year. His Highness King Fredrick lowered taxes several months back. After the royal treasurers had completed their accounting for the season, they found that the treasury had increased its surplus. King Fredrick, in his infinite generosity, decided to pass along some of the crown's good fortune to the people. It seems the working class have had more money to buy goods for themselves, and as a result, the merchants are faring even better than they had been previously. This is truly a golden age in our great kingdom's history.”

“'Kay. So, I'll put you down for 'better' then...” He jotted down a few notes while the gentleman watched curiously.

“Forgive my ignorance, traveler, but what are you hoping to gain by asking these questions?”

“Oh you know, I just like keeping tabs on other countries, mostly for my own peace of mind. It's useful for international relations, helps prevent wars and stuff.”

“Well, you certainly have no reason to expect war from Zalaria. King Fredrick is a humble ruler, not a conqueror. We are naturally well-isolated from most hostile outsiders. The royal navy ensures anyone foolhardy enough to mount an invasion will soon reconsider. You may be the first outsider the capital has seen in some time. Some lords have lobbied to open trade routes across the sea to obtain more wealth, but the king's primary concern is always for the safety of his own people.”

“I guess a lot of kings before him felt the same way. It's a nice sentiment and all, but being so cut off has its downsides. You've almost totally stopped progressing.”

“I'm afraid I don't understand. What more progress is there to make? Zalaria is a peaceful and prosperous nation.”

“And that's totally commendable, no question. But there's so much stuff you miss out on by not trading with other cultures. Look, your military is just now figuring out gunpowder, you've got no silk, no exotic fruit or spices, no coffee, no chocolate... Man, and I could really go for a hot chocolate right about now, too.”

“A delicacy of your home country, I take it? I confess I have never heard of it.”

“Oh, you don't know what you're missing. I'll have to bring you some next time I stop by. Fair warning though, it's probably a little too sweet for your palate.”

As he looked around, Deejay's eyes landed on a young woman sitting a few tables away from them. She was wearing a flowing white dress with yellow lace accents, sipping a cup of tea and chatting with several other young women. They were all dressed in noble clothes as well, though I doubt his eyes ever strayed far enough from her to notice. A dangerous grin crept onto his face.

“Woah. Speaking of exceptionally sweet things... Who is that gorgeous girl?”

“Hmm?” The gentleman turned and followed Deejay's gaze. “Oh. You must be referring to Lady Elizabeth. Yes, she is quite the beauty. She is the king's only daughter, you know. He's quite fond of her.”

“Who wouldn't be?”

His eyes stayed glued to Elizabeth, even after she finally noticed him staring. As their eyes met, he briefly considered giving her his patented sly come-hither look, but his confidence faltered in the face of her direct eye contact, leading him to opt instead for the awkward smile and dorky wave, a well-worn and reliable stand-by. She politely smiled back, then turned back to her friends. The gentleman anxiously adjusted his collar and cleared his throat.

“Perhaps you are unfamiliar with the manners of polite society, but here it is considered rude to stare, especially at royalty.”

“I can't help it. She's absolutely stunning. I'm smitten. That's it, I gotta go talk to her.”

“I beg your pardon? One cannot simply walk up to Lady Elizabeth and address her. Even if she did wish to speak with you, her father is very protective of her.”

“Hey, I've dealt with protective fathers. They never stopped me before.”

“Do you realize what you're saying? You cannot defy the king's will, especially in matters dealing with his family. You would need his blessing to even be given the chance to ask for her hand.”

“Her hand's not what I'm looking at.”

The gentleman blushed. As a side note, Deejay was incredibly lucky I wasn't there for any of this. I didn't have as much patience for his nonsense back then, or anyone else really. Anyway, Elizabeth finished her tea and started saying her goodbyes as she got up from the table.

“You see that?” Deejay said, pocketing his notes. “She's already leaving. It's now or never.”

“Wait a moment. For your own good, I have to insist that you not be too forward. No one here knows who you are. Her guards might take you for a Revolutionary assassin.”

“Assassin? Me?” Deejay looked himself over, failing to see anything obviously dangerous.

“Despite his good works, King Fredrick is not without his enemies. Several attempts have been made on his life and the lives of his family in the recent past. Because of this, the royal family is usually quite wary of strangers, especially ones who are not of noble stature.”

“Hey, just because I'm a little on the short side doesn't mean I'm an assassin.”

The gentleman furrowed his brow. “Are you just being willfully obtuse? I think given the context, it was clear which meaning of 'stature' I-”

He was cut off suddenly by a woman's scream. The two men... or, well, the one man and one man-child... They turned quickly toward the scream, realizing immediately who it had come from. A man in a black hooded cloak had Elizabeth by the wrist and was forcing her into the back of a stage coach that had just pulled up beside the cafe. Other people pointed and shouted in surprise, some crying out frantically for the royal guards, who were nowhere in sight.

“Stop it!” Elizabeth shouted. “Let go of me!”

She struggled and kicked against her captor but was easily overpowered. In an instant they were in the back of the coach, and the door slammed shut behind them. The gentleman's jaw dropped.

“Lady Elizabeth! She really is being attacked by Revolutionaries!”

The driver cracked his whip, and the coach started off down the street as the gentleman watched helplessly.

“How could this have happened? I thought the royal guards were keeping watch over her.”

“Guess they slipped up.” Deejay said. He grinned and practically leapt out of his chair. “Now's my chance. If I save her life, she'll have to talk to me.”

“I beg your pardon? I admire your courage, traveler, but this is a task best left to the royal guards. Besides, you have no hope of catching them now. You haven't even a horse to ride.”

“Hah! Don't stop me now, dude. ‘Cause I'm havin' a good time, havin' a good time...”

Ugh, it's already starting. With that, he took off running down the street after the stage coach.

“Wait!” the gentleman protested again.

With a burst of unnatural speed, Deejay bolted down the road and out of sight, leaving the gentleman alone at the table. He frowned and shook his head.

“And once again, it falls to me to pay for lunch.”