Charon didn't speak for most of the ride, for which Jasson was grateful. Partly because Jasson felt a weird tugging in his soul whenever the Ferryman spoke. But most of it was due to the realization that Charon didn't need a tongue to speak. Not a whole one anyway.

Jasson was supposed to have five dollars left in his VenGo after the BlUbber fee. But when one takes a ride with the omnipresent Ferryman of the Dead, one feels inclined to tip. So it was that Jasson embarked into his first village with not a penny in his VenGo.

Not that anyone could accept contactless payment. 'Tap-to-pay' wasn’t a sticker on their weighing scales.

Night filled the land, easing into day like the gods were mixing a dark Kool-aid. River Village consisted of a dozen establishments along a wide main street, encircled by a well-maintained wooden wall. The buildings reflected white as the moon peeked above the horizon, their medieval architecture leaning in the night.

A man exited a brightly lit bar near the gate, laughing and waving farewell to his friends. This man was debatably sober and would have been the perfect person for Jasson to talk to. The man even gave Jasson a nod, making brief eye contact.

Jasson needed things. He needed to know where the Adventuring Guild Booth could be. He needed to know where he could stay for the night. But what Jasson needed most of all was the courage to walk up to a complete stranger and ask a question.

Since he didn’t have that, Jasson crossed to the opposite side of the road and anxiously swiped on his phone.

I’m such a coward, Jasson thought, but it shouldn’t be too hard to find something here. There’s just one road. Man, I wish Guugle Maps worked.

Jasson found the Adventures Booth after a couple of minutes of searching, which was a relief. The Adventurer's Booth was a small wooden shed with a board covered in flyers outside. Dressed in red and gold paint, the shack stood as an embodiment of honor and practicality.  A large-looking flap lay closed and latched over the front opening, and a door to the side stood firmly shut. There was a sliver of steady light leaking out of an opening in the flap, so Jasson walked up and knocked.

"We are clos-ed," a feminine voice said, "Come again nex' week, if you please."

“All right,” Jasson said, social terror spiking, “Sorry.”

Jasson turned and got a few steps away before he stopped. He needed to do more than that. She didn’t say that she wouldn’t talk to him, just that they were closed. It couldn’t hurt, right?

“Um,” Jasson said, holding his phone tight, “What days are you open? And- erm, what day of the week is it?”

The voice took a moment to respond “Whaht? Did you lose trahck?”

“Uhh,” Jasson turned his phone on, “Yes?”

The woman's voice said, "We are open on Wednesdays and on Thursdays, and yes, eet eez Thursday night. Were you hoping for some quests?"

Is that accent French? Jasson thought. Or does she have a lot of phlegm in her throat?

“Kinda,” Jasson said, scrolling on his phone as his heart sped up, “I’m mostly hoping for some advice. I’m trying to become an adventurer but I don’t know what to do.”

“There eez a fee to join,” The woman said, “But zere’s a fourteen work day free trial. Steell, zat’s better done at an active branch, not a leettle stall like zis. We are here to supply ze more remote Adventurers with quests and gold, usually for ze herb gathering.”

Jasson had to keep himself from getting too distracted on his phone. She was definitely using a French accent, which only made it harder to pay attention to what she was saying.

“Gotta need a lot of those for the war eh?” Jasson said, smiling a bit, “I guess...well I’m out of money and need to survive another week until you get back. Any advice?”

Wow, Jasson thought, do I always sound so rizzless? I’m doing it though.

“Zere are plenty ways to survive,” the woman said, voice softening, “Especially in ze summer. You probably steell ‘ave a shirt on your back. Pawn zat if you want. Zey’re a bunch of thieves in zis town, but what pawn shop eesn’t? Oh, and ze pawn shop will be open tomorrow around Second Bell so you best ‘ead to ze church for ze night.”

“Thanks,” Jasson said, relieved to get the info he needed, “Which one’s that?”

“Look for ze building with a star,” the woman laughed behind the closed door, “Eet’s ze only church ‘ere. Go to ze right. I got a long trip tomorrow so gudnight.”

As Jasson walked away the woman said “Hey, zanks for chatting. Eet’s been a long time since I’ve spoken fluent Mench. Where did you learn?”

“Oh,” Jasson said, “Thanks. Umm…I’m really good at languages. Apparently. Thanks for the advice. Bye.”

Down the street, at the end of the line of buildings, was an old wooden chapel. Simple in design with a single bell in the steeple, the church stood on a large lot containing a dense garden and a goat. The goat eyed Jasson, adding to Jasson’s sense of unease. Weren’t goats a sign of-

Then, above the door, Jasson saw the star carved in wood. The star pointed up, resting inside a circle that had tiny writing all around it. Distinctly unexpected. Surely, this was just a normal church, right? Goats were just animals, and the star didn’t look like it had people nailed to it in secret/public blood sacrifices. It would be fine.

But, Jasson thought, a pentagram?

When Jasson crept through the door he found a well-maintained atmosphere lit by magical floating lights. The magical lighting was good because if they had lit the place with candles Jasson would have left at speed. Inside were simple wooden walls and columns, with alcoves containing statues ringing the room. About a dozen people filled the pews, and a Clergyman was ministering among them. The entire chapel felt cozy, a place of refuge and worship for humble believers.

Jasson stood awkwardly by the door and tried to busy himself with a statue, hoping someone in charge would notice him. Jasson eyed the Clergyman, but it looked like the Clergyman hadn’t noticed Jasson yet. If Jasson waited it could take forever, maybe even five minutes. This place should have an app to arrange meetings. Jasson opened his phone and started to type into Guugle Maps. Maybe Maps would show-

I’m an idiot, Jasson thought as he turned back to the statue by the door, there’s not going to be a website.

The statue showed a man hanging in the air, but not in the gentle angel version. I looked like the man was falling from a great height and was about to hit the bronze ground, a blissful look on his face. Normally there would be some cleverly hidden support for the falling statue but in this case, the bronze man was floating perfectly.

So cool! Jasson thought. So this is magic?!

After poking the statue for a while Jasson glanced down, finding a plaque with text on it. Jasson stared at it, trying to make out what it was saying. Was it like ‘cursive’? He’d seen cursive in memes but this didn’t look right.

Ah. Jasson thought. It’s another language. Why doesn't it auto-translate?

Jasson unlocked his phone, waiting patiently for it to recognize his face. Then he scrolled through and found his text translation app called TrainSlate. The app opened with a camera interface and Jasson took a picture of the text on the plaque and then tapped ‘TrainSlate’.

The app loaded for a few seconds before giving the results. It said that the language was ‘Patin’ and had a readout of the text helpfully displayed.

Unfortunately, a robotic male voice also started to read the translation out loud. Loudly.

“Shh!” Jasson tapped frantically as the Clergyman turned, “This is a church!”

Jasson flipped the Ophone mute switch, which didn’t do anything.

“What?” Jasson hissed, “No. Why!?”

“Cousin.” The Clergyman loomed above Jasson and said, “We ask that you be quiet in Evening Acceleration.”

Evening what? Jasson thought.

“Sorry,” Jasson said, frantically pushing the volume rocker down, “My phone w- my magic device won’t shut up.”

Jasson hunched under the glares as the armpit-smothered voice finished reading the plaque a few seconds later. The Clergyman sighed, breaking the unbearable silence.

“At least it was reading scripture,” The Clergyman said, “Although in a terrible voice. Were you curious about this statue my cousin?”

“Yeah,” Jasson said, “well, I just wanted to know. Actually, I was hoping for a pla-”

“This is the image of Exhortation.” The Clergyman said, “Where our god, one of the ten great gods, came to this world and was Raptured as an example.”

“Raptured?” Jasson said, “Isn’t that…later?”

“No,” the Clergyman said, fervent fire in his eyes, “It started at the beginning. In fact, it’s still practiced to this day. Symbolically of course."

The Clergyman made energetic and disturbingly violent movements as he said "It is a ceremony where you throw people high into the air. There they leave their sins behind in the hands of our god of Winds. The higher the better of course, but since we usually do this to babies we don’t throw them to our fullest ability. Adults get maximum effort though, which is truly magnificent to see. If we were to Rapurize you, then you would be able to see the warzone from the peak of your flight. I assure you, it’s perfectly safe. Our Rapturetizers are quite good catchers. Usually.”

What is this? Jasson thought, Some kind of dark catholic church knockoff?

(In actuality it is common for a Catholic-Knockoff (™)  church to exist in any Isekai world. For legal reasons: all events and characters are fictional and any similarities to real life are coincidental. The beliefs, actions, and names presented are not intended to represent any present and/or historical papals.)

“Ah,” Jasson said, squeezing his phone, “Makes sense.”

“For is it not said.” The Clergyman continued, “Referring to fathers and gods: ‘You throw me up, so I’m higher than the mountains!' There’s a lovely song about it.”

“Yup,” Jasson said, “Absolutely. I’ll pass though. Actually, I need a free place to stay for the night. Would I be able to do that here? In a back room? With a low ceiling?”

“Oh absolutely,” the Clergyman said, clapping his hands, “Will you also be needing a meal?”

Jasson hesitated, but his stomach felt empty despite the soldier’s gruel sitting like a rock.

“A small amount would be wonderful,” Jasson said, “I am not very hungry and I am sure you have many others to see to. If I have some money to spare I’m sure that I’ll donate a small amount after I pawn my possessions tomorrow.”

“Oh, you don’t need to.” The Clergyman seemed genuinely shocked, “A night of charity is the absolute least we could do for a cousin in Saint Claws. That’s the saint of giving by the way. Just follow me and we’ll ensure you sleep well tonight. This chapel’s sanctuary status is intact, and we have extensive rooms in the back.”

****

After Cousin Jasson was settled for sleep, the Bishop called the Clergyman in for an urgent meeting.

“Nephew.” The Bishop said, standing in his humble office, “I trust that our new guest has been accommodated.”

“Of course Uncle.” The Clergyman said, “I am surprised that you have taken such an interest in a humble cousin who is hard upon his luck.”

“Yes well,” the Bishop said, “did you notice anything strange about him?”

“No Uncle.” The Clergyman said, “Aside from his generally uncomfortable air, he seemed like a neat if oddly dressed young man. Possibly a prodigal son of a minor merchant.”

“Ah,” the Bishop said, “You hit the problem right on the nose. His clothes were tightly woven and simply sewn, yet he claims that he lacks funds. It is a…contradiction. I wonder if he is a test.”

The Clergyman seemed to doubt that and said “If you say it is Uncle, then I will feed him most richly on the morrow.”

“Are you a fool nephew?” Bishop said, “That will let him know we’re onto him. No, treat him as you would any other man. But do try to emphasize that, if the leaders were to know of our struggling state, they would surely send some much-appreciated aid. Perhaps enough for a new coat of paint on the steeple.”

“Understood Uncle.”