‘Fighting fear itself’ is big talk, but it is of course far easier said than done. After all, it’s not like ‘fear’ is something you can grab and deck in the face, like Martha did with me. No, fear is intangible, yet its grip is more powerful than any stranglehold could ever be. In order to fight it, you need to fight the reasons, and, as it turned out, Martha had a pretty good idea about the problems our little get-together had. As expected of the woman who ran one of the largest independent associations of the compound we were cooped up in.

“So you say, you want to ‘defeat fear’. But I’m just about sure that you have no idea on where or how to even start, am I right?” she asked me after the resident healer left ‘us two lovebirds’ alone (her words, not mine). While I took the insinuation with a wry smile, Martha looked like she was ready to storm out and do some ass-kicking to prevent any rumors from spreading, but managed to refrain from doing so. Which was good, cause if you try to silence a rumor with violence, you only help it spreading. No, the only way to make a rumor die is to not make a big fuss about it and pretend it doesn’t even exist. People will then get bored and that’s that. Sure, there will still be people who will be ‘absolutely sure’ that whatever the rumor says is true, but the best course of action is to ignore these people instead of trying to prove them wrong.
But I digress.

Martha explained to me, that my people from the league were pretty much spot on, when they said, that ‘fear’ was making people behave strangely during the inspector’s visit. Just like all people, they were afraid of change. Because change meant uncertainty. In this compound, they knew the rules. The who’s who and the what’s what. They knew their place and they arranged themselves in the pecking order of occasional outbursts of violence. If, however, they ever got out, they’d be back to square one. Thrown into a world that does not want them. Most were afraid of being sent to die in a war they did not believe in. When asked about the prospect of deserting, they often stated, that they’d never feel safe anywhere, being traitors to the crown and all that.
The more Martha told me about the state of affairs in the town, the lower my heart sank. How do you give people, who had never been accepted by their peers, a prospect for a future? In here, we were all misfits. And we made it work, mooching of the kingdom’s generosity. But out there? Out there were the ‘normal’ people. Out there you had to work for your meals. Out there was a war nobody really knew anything about. Mind you, I say ‘nobody knew anything’, but there were plenty of rumors floating around. And none of them were very promising.

“So, you see, Mr. Townsend, there’s very little you can do. Sure, you could lie to the people, promise them that it would all be okay, that all they’d need to do is follow you and you’d lead them into a brighter future, but I you’d need to be the Messiah himself to pull that off.”
“Or a damn good crook,” I comment.
“Same thing in this day and age, really.”
“So...you are saying it’s hopeless then?”
“Pretty much, yes…” Martha stated and her look trailed off into the distance.
“What are you thinking about, Martha?”
She got startled, flushed red for just a second, but had herself back under control in a matter of seconds and swiftly replied, “I’m sorry, I allowed myself to get lost in memories.”
“Memories? What kind of memories?”
Martha gave me a stern look, seemingly appraising me and finally said, “I’ll tell you, but under one condition. You must tell nobody. If I even just catch as much as a whisper of anyone else knowing, I’ll come for you. And then ‘broken bones’ will be the least of your concerns, you hear me? I’m talking about ‘Ripping off your balls and feeding them to the pigs’ kind of pain here. So...you still wanna know?!”
I cracked a weak smile, “If you still want to tell me, then yeah. Sure. Knowing me, I’ll have forgotten about it in a week anyway.”
“...you’ve got dementia or something, old man?”
“Nah, actually my memory is pretty good. But it’s highly associative. Meaning that, in order to remember something, I usually need a trigger of some sort. A word, a song, a smell, anything, really. And social affairs are rarely the kind of stuff I form strong associations with. So, who was he?”
“What makes you think this is about a guy?”
“Eh, just going with the trope here. You know, you threatening me with violence if I tell anyone about it, yet apparently adamant about sharing your story with someone.”
“It’s not about ‘a guy’, though. At least not in the ‘past lover’ sense.”
“Fair enough.”
“You’re not going to probe?”
“You’re going to tell me what you want, when you want to. Or much rather, when you’re ready. Though, to be honest, are you sure that I’m the right kind of person for this talk? Shouldn’t you have a best friend in your association to discuss such things with?”
Martha fell silent for a long time before responding, “Sometimes it is better to confide into a stranger than a ‘best friend’. The chances of them using the knowledge against you are lower.”
“That would be a pretty bad friend, who would go and use any knowledge you’ve shared with them against you.”
“...yup, you’re definitely new here. Kinda surprising that you didn’t wake up with a knife in your back yet with your attitude.”
“I haven’t had much time to make that kind of friends yet. I was too busy getting beaten up.”
That made Martha snort into a little laughter. Something I had not seen for far too long, as I realized in that very moment. And at the same moment, I wanted more of it. Happiness in my life, I mean.
That was, what I’ve always wanted, actually. I wanted the people around me to be happy, so I could join into their happiness myself. I really am a wuss.

After the moment passed, Martha switched back into her ‘serious’ mode and said, “Fine, Mr. Townsend. I’ll tell you a little story and I sincerely hope that you’ll remember your promise to not tell anyone. Though I guess I shouldn’t stress that point as much, huh?”
“No, that’s not a good idea, if you want something to stay secret.”
Martha took a deep breath, sat down on the side of my bed and said, “I’ve been here for 5 years now. Give or take a few months, the people here aren’t all that good with timekeeping. When I first came here, I was lost and confused, just like you. I also thought, that all of this could just be a dream. After all, ‘waking up in another world with all your weaknesses magically being removed’ doesn’t happen in reality. Sounds familiar, am I right?”
“Yes it does. I assume that your body also looked a tad different than what you were used to?”
“Damn straight it did. And you? You weren’t exactly Mr. Universe before coming here either, were you?”
I merely shook my head and nodded for her to continue.
“Well, at first everything went fine. People were a bit weird when they realized that I was a ‘champion’, but I quickly learned how to hide that fact and from there it went uphill. Looking the way I do certainly helped. Eventually however, ‘the fate of champions’ caught up to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Yeah well, I got involved into a bar fight. The guards came to break it up and, during questioning, they found this blasted magic stone, which translates this world’s gibberish into something I can actually work with.”
“Let me guess the rest: They ‘escorted’ you to this compound, where you were supposed to train for being deployed on the front line against the demon king?”
“Spot on. That you managed to stay out of trouble long enough to actually make it to the front gates of Eregrund is a pretty amazing feat. Us ‘otherworld champions’ like to stand out like a sore thumb.”
“I...wouldn’t say that I managed to stay out of trouble until then, actually. But you didn’t want to tell me my own story, did you?”
“No, of course not. You see, when I got thrown in here, I met a man. Another otherworld champion, who had been here for 10 years or even more. A shining beacon of hope, who ran the whole joint. He took me in and taught me everything I needed to know in order to survive. After a while, I was sure that he would be the one to lead us to victory and freedom. He was an idealist, who truly believed that we, as champions, could make a difference. And you remind me of him.”
I processed the information, especially her deliberate use of the past tense and, of course, the fact that I had not heard about anyone like that.
“I am not going to like what happened to him, am I?” I asked, painfully aware that I wouldn’t even like the answer to this question.
“No, I don’t think you will. Because he and you are from the same breed. You are fools. And he was too weak. And that combination is always the first to die in this world.”
Yeah well, that was obvious. Still, that didn’t explain, why she seems to try keeping it under wraps. So I kept probing a little further and eventually she revealed how his demise came to be.
“He died trying to protect me and a girl I tried to rescue, Thomas. Threw himself into the way of an incoming crossbow bolt. The darn bastard bolted when he realized what he had done, but there was no saving the only real friend I’ve ever had in this god-forsaken town. I called for help, of course, but nobody came. I tried to drag him out of that street, but he was too heavy. In the end, he died in my arms...wanna know what his final words were?”
“Something pretty damn awesome, I reckon.”
“If you’re hoping for some ‘Ben Parker’ level of bullshit, I’m sorry, but I must disappoint you. ‘Do not hate them’. That’s what he said before life left him. After that, I cried. I cried for one whole week. And after my tears stopped running, I had resolved myself to continue his work. To lead the people into the brighter future my mentor had envisioned. But I failed. 4 years have passed since and all I managed in the meantime is, that the few girls in here have a somewhat safe haven to come to once darkness falls. That the men no longer consider us mere ‘prey’. But I am far from the shining beacon he was. Try as I might, I am still too weak.”

Martha looked away, apparently fighting hard against the tears she had held back all those years ever since. Maybe he wasn’t her lover, but clearly he was very important to her. An anchor to hold on to. A man who could make a difference with his words and deeds. A hero. Because that’s what heroes do. They put themselves in danger to protect the people. And they die in the service of these people.

I wanted to hug Martha at that point, give her some solace even at the risk of getting beat up again, but the instance I rose my arm, she snapped, “Touch me and you’re a dead man!”
I did not hug her after all. And eventually the moment passed, Martha got up and left the infirmary without saying another word. I stayed in there for the night and when I went back ‘home’ the next morning, I wondered, why she would tell me that story in the first place.
To warn me? To encourage me? Or just to get it off her chest?
I’ll likely never know and it doesn’t really matter either way. The important part however is, that she confided in me. She opened her hardened shell and allowed me to peer past the walls she had surrounded herself with for protection. And she showed me that it is possible for one man to make a difference. Okay, he paid for this ‘difference’ with his life, but I must not let that stop me.
After all, I wanted to go home. And for that, I needed to get out of here. I needed to make a difference. I may have been a fool to think so, but after that night, I was convinced, that there was some way for me to succeed. There just had to be.