You glance at Solon, standing beside you with his usual composed demeanor. This… this is where he’s brought you?
It’s barely 200 meters from the main building, yet it feels like stepping into another world entirely. Fibble’s voice cuts through your thoughts, grumbling from his perch on your shoulder.
“Charming. Truly. Does the school provide tetanus shots as part of orientation?”
Solon’s expression tightens, and he gestures vaguely at the house.
“With a little magic, it will be livable again,” he says, clearly trying to sound reassuring. He pulls a sleek device from his pocket and waves it at you. “I’ve already sent a message to the staff group chat for assistance.”
You glance at the object in his hand. It’s a sleek, rectangular device crafted from a blend of enchanted metals and polished glass, faintly glowing with runic etchings along its edges. It looks suspiciously like a modern smartphone, albeit more ornate. He calls it an Arcane RelicTab, and though he appears confident in its effectiveness, you notice his grimace.
“Most of them are likely already in the staff dorm at this hour,” he admits, tucking the device back into his pocket.
You’re about to ask why there’s an actual house sitting on school grounds when Fibble, ever the embodiment of tact, beats you to it.
“Let me guess,” he says, stretching his wings. “It’s haunted. Or maybe you keep the misbehaving students here?”
Solon sighs heavily. “It was the school’s farm,” he explains. “A long time ago. It provided fresh ingredients for the kitchens, but students and staff complained about the smell. The farm was relocated far from the main building, and this house has been abandoned ever since.”
You glance around, noting the forest encroaching on the property and the faint outlines of what might have once been fields.
“The school grounds are enormous,” Solon continues. “They could rival a city. Each dorm has its own parcel of land and the school ground provide them a large space with forests, fields, and even stables near the new farm. The farm manager lives on-site year-round to care for the animals, even during vacations, so they usually bring their family to live with them, this is why they needed a full house.” He pauses. “The current manager lives alone though.”
“You bet I am.”
As if summoned, a figure approaches from the treeline. They stride confidently toward you, their bright red hair looking like feathers catching the fading light like a flame. When they step into view, you’re struck by their striking appearance. Amber eyes meet yours with an intensity that feels almost piercing. Their ears are composed of yellow and turquoise feathers, and a set of small, vibrant wings—red and yellow—rest on their back. The long, shimmering tail feathers of a rooster sway behind them, the dark turquoise hues catching the light like polished metal.
Noticing your astonishment, the newcomer chuckles. “Never seen a Rooster Beastman before?”
You shake your head slowly, managing to mutter that you don’t even know what a Beastman is. Their laugh deepens, warm and hearty, and they glance at Solon, who steps in to explain.
“Our new student here is from another world,” Solon says, his tone tinged with weariness.
He begins recounting the events of the Resonance Ceremony, also recording himself on his Arcane RelicTab as he speaks to send the explanation to the others. You’re not sure whether to feel grateful or embarrassed by the attention.
When Solon finishes, the Beastman’s expression softens.
“You’ve had quite a day,” he says, his voice steady. “I’m Rustan Featherstone, the farm manager—or, as some call me, the Master of Cultivation. My resonance is with the Little Red Hen.”
His gaze sharpens slightly, and he adds, “If you need anything, just ask. But don’t get used to relying on others. Everyone here pulls their weight.”
You nod, unsure how to respond. Fibble, on the other hand, flaps his wings indignantly.
“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll be sure to get my own feed,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Not that it matters—caring for me is supposed to be that human’s job anyway. I didn’t ask to be stuck with this arrangement, but here we are.” He glares at you pointedly, as though the entire situation is your fault.
Rustan’s amber eyes narrow, and the faintest hint of a smirk tugs at his lips. “Good to hear,” he says simply, before turning to inspect the house.
Solon suddenly speaks up, breaking the momentary silence. “By the way,” he begins, pulling something from his pocket. “I’ve been curious—what’s money like in your world?”
He holds out a small copper piece and a bill. The copper coin gleams faintly, and the bill is a mix of ornate designs and magical sigils, with a figure in the center, a man with a refined and composed demeanor. He have a clean-shaven face, a high forehead, and prominent features, framed by a long, flowing wig that were fashionable in the 17th century, curled and reaching his shoulders.
“The piece is one Scriptos, the bill is a 100, Scriptos is what we use here.”
You glance at them and shake your head, indicating you don’t recognize the currency at all. Solon sighs and tucks them back into his pocket.
“Well, for starters, I’ll cover anything you need. But if you have to stay here for a while you might want to make some money of your own.”
He gestures vaguely toward the surrounding area. “You can work on the farm, at the shop, the restaurant, or in the cafeteria. There’s always something to do.”
You nod again, agreeing with the idea of working to earn your keep. Solon offers a reassuring smile.
“It’s just temporary,” he says. “Until I find anything about worlds travelling and a way to send you back. For now, you can consider this place like your home.”
You glance at the dilapidated house again, the sinking feeling in your stomach growing. This place is going to take more than a little magic to feel like home.
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