Chapter 19: Pendejo

“Pendejo!”

I guess that one doesn't need translating.

“The first, most important thing you have to say, after I graciously give you my least fishy healing potion to heal your throat, is to call me a pendejo?”

“Yes!”

Isabella asserts and Demarcus nearly keels over from laughter as Mato just watches on, mild amusement cracking his veneer of concern as he cooks breakfast over a very conservative fire in these grasslands.

He must've looted the pan and cookware from the castle. Sensible priorities.

“Alright, fair enough, you earned that one. But c’mon, we saved your life!” I compromise.

“By assaulting, drugging, and kidnapping me?!” Isabella counters with, and it's nice to see she still has the energy to rage at me. She was in rough shape.

“Well I couldn't ask you to stop playing! You had your eyes closed and couldn't hear a thing! Plus, you needed to be level 5 to leave, and it's not like you could exactly fall asleep in the middle of all that. I tried to explain that to you, as politely as possible at the moment, but you were either deaf or too deep in shock to understand.” I argue.

“Cy!” Mato raises his voice, sternly, butting in from where he's frying up a salt pork and potato hash.

“Even if it was the only way to save her, it had to be frightenin’ and unpleasant. Ya don't gotta apologize for savin’ her but you should apologize for your part in putting her through that.”

I am aghast at the sheer audacity, not only for grandpa Mato trying to scold me like I'm a child, but the devout confidence that these two have that I'm in the wrong! Admittedly it wasn't pleasant, but it was the only way! I have a book that tells the fucking future!

I look around, face twisted and open mouthed in an expression of an insulted ‘are you serious?’ I turn to Demarcus, cleaning the goop off his armor and crowbar with a rag, trying to give him a look of ‘are you hearing this shit?’ And, him knowing me, he just gives me a tilt of the head and steady look to mean he gets it, then follows it with a shake of the head trying to remind me to pick my battles.

I take a deep inhale, mentally pick up the anger and examine it, acknowledge the indignance at others thinking they know better, the instinctual rage at condescension that's gotten me into enough fights as is, and the paired frustration and disappointment at hoping for praise or excitement for me saving a life with time travel. I acknowledge these things, why they're important to me, and convince myself that I'm not betraying them as I exhale and let them go.

I raise my hands.

“Alright. I'm sorry I put you through all that. I promise if there was a way to do it better, I would have. I hope you're okay.”

Mato gives a nod at that, and Demarcus whispers to me as he stands up to get closer.

“7 out of 10.”

I snort at that, and look up to find Isabella tense and broiling, her hands clenching and unclenching as her eyes grow watery and she chokes on countless, unfitting words.

Demarcus speaks up.

“Yeah, how ya feelin'? You were pretty badass out there. You must've been playing for hours. Pretty nice with that guitar too, you play before all this?” He says, casual and trying to make the scary stuff easier by treating it like it's normal.

“Y— yeah.” She says, scoffing, winding down her overwhelming anger into a baseline angst.

But then, her stance softens, her shoulders slack, and she turns away slightly as her voice quiets.

“It was my dad's.” Her hands grip tight to the guitar strap keeping it hanging from her back.

I wince, remembering something personal I read about her in the binder while trying to help Mato with his [Targeted Quarry] skill.

“Her and her father were murdered by some gang, possibly cartel. Watched her father get beheaded. She says she was thankful someone shot her before they ‘did things to her’, which is… rough. She’s a bit jaded on that front, and understandably not big on organized crime.

Try not to behead anyone around her.”

Maybe Mato is right. About the future staying a mystery, I mean. I'd have preferred to learn that only when she was ready to tell me. Or not at all. Gonna be hard to pretend to not know stuff I shouldn't, but I guess that's part of being a [Half-baked Time Traveler].

Mato stands up with a camp bowl full of hash and a spoon. As he walks over to Isabella he says “Ya nearly died, you've been through a lot, and these two chuckleheads ain't helpin’ any. Take this, take a walk and eat something. You can come back when ya feel it, or I'll come find ya when we're gettin’ ready to head out.”

He hands her the food, and he quickly walks back to the fire, not making a big deal of it and giving her space.

After a moment, she says ”It's not like we haven't all died before. But, thanks.”

She takes the food, and walks off into the grass.

“She's gonna get ticks. Hopefully they're not giant too. Either way she can check for them herself.” I snark.

“Cy, lay off her man.” Demarcus says.

“What? Just a bit of a joke and a genuine concern! We don't know that this plain is safe, who knows what monsters might be lurking in the grass?” I defend.

“I doubt we'd appear somewhere dangerous right out the gate, ‘specially in the state we were in.” Mato counters, annoyingly sensibly.

“Alright, whatever. It's not like we're not all gonna be best fuckin’ buddies eventually.”

“Whaddya mean?” Mato says, eyes narrowing.

“I mean this little group of ours,” I say, holding up the binder. “Looks like we're in it for the long haul. And we'll be picking up some strays along the way.”

“What, the book says that?” Demarcus asks.

“Not outright, but the next few things sure imply it.”

“And the book's… never wrong?” Demarcus asks, carefully.

I sigh. “I am obligated to say no, the book can be wrong. Why do you ask?”

“Nothing man, just tryna wrap my head around it. But shit, you really know the future?”

“Yeah dude, can't look too far ahead or it'll fuck stuff up but, yeah.” I nod, still mystified.

“Can I see?” Demarcus asks, a bit of wonder still in him.

My stomach drops and twists in dread and guilt as I remember one of the core rules. “Don't let anyone read it.”

But, I did just say the book can be wrong.

I decide I'll put the [Traveler’s Journal] skill to the test, and I think: is there anything safe to show Demarcus?

My hand drifts, and I find myself hooking a finger around a red ribbon. I open the page and read a bit, and knowing my sense of humor, I read between the lines and realize what this is, then swallow a lump in my throat.

I hand it over to Demarcus.

“Here. Read this page and only this page. It’s an example of what the other stuff looks like, don't take it seriously.”

Mato shakes his head and I give him a significant look, but signifying nothing.

Demarcus reads, then exclaims “Holy shit dude! This is insane! Does this actually happen?”

“I don't know.” I say, looking back towards Mato.

I take the book back, and read a little.

The Crimson-scaled Hellfin will kick. Your. Ass. Don't go looking for it until you're ready.

You'll find it in the Tamagara trench outside the Rinollian isles.

Charter a deep sea exploration ship with Captain Geforpentivelodek, he's the Huchpatli at Port Rale that somehow makes looking like a shrimp look scary.

Learn [Waterbreathing] and cast it on Yang, he'll get sucked outta the ship and need it.

The scales are one of the most valuable alchemical ingredients we could find, they work as an alternative to Dragon scales.

Sell them on different continents in different times, make it random, and then bury the rest under the birch with a ‘C’ carved in it outside Gwellsburg.

“Wow. That’s nuts. They’re all like that?” Demarcus remarks.

“Yeah. Pretty much.” I say, regretfully lying through my teeth.

I turn away from the two of them, and flip back to the prior page to find the note I both expected and dreaded seeing.

The following page is a red herring. Use it to trick [Detect Truth] spells, trip up spies, and impress girls.

The Crimson-scaled Hellfin doesn’t exist, anyone who mentions it is a spy.

The only thing buried under that tree is a bomb.

Mato shoves a bowl of food into my lap.

“So, what’s it say we do next?”

I cover the book and look up at him. He looks angry with me, but I’m not sure what to do about it.

“It just says we head into town. It’s got a few errands I need to run while in town but, for the most part, it's pretty sparse. Apparently it stays as vague as possible when it can, to maintain the future’s flexibility.”

Mato just grunts a “hm” and heads back to where he’s sitting. I’m not sure how much that mollified him, or just what’s crawled up his ass, but it is true.

The book does stay pretty vague when it can. That’s very important.

“Thank you for breakfast…” Isabella says as she returns, handing back the bowl to Mato. I slam the binder shut as I hear her speak.

“Mato.”

“Right, thanks Mato. I'm Izzy.”

“Demarcus.”

“You can call me Cy.”

“Cy?” She asks, quirking an eyebrow.

I shrug. “Short for Cyclops.”

“Fitting.” She retorts. “Well, I think I'm going to take you up on your offer to walk into town. Mostly seeing as I don't know which way it is and I'd just be walking next to you anyways. But I don’t need you to babysit me. I can protect myself.”

“Evidently not.” I mutter to myself. Not quite quiet enough, I note, as everyone gives me death glares.

Continuing on, Izzy turns back to Mato.

“If we run into trouble, I should know what I'm working with. I'm a [Bard], and you are…” she trails off, gesturing to Mato.

“[Ranger].”

“[Warrior].”

“And what class are you? [Asshole]?” She asks, arms crossed and looking at me.

“Ha! He should be, but nah he's a [Mage].” Demarcus answers.

“Well…” I begin, sucking a breath through my teeth. “Not exactly.”

Everyone's eyes turn to me.

“My class changed 2 levels ago.”

“To what?” Mato asks.

I tug the collar of my dress and play with my hands a bit. Slightly embarrassed.

“Well… ya see— the thing is— it's, um…”