That's probably Mr Westhouse.
It's Brian Westhouse, expat and minor recluse.
Brian Westhouse.
Great view. Back home, a place like this would easily set you back tens of millions. Here, it's probably free.
Great view. The sunsets must look spectacular from here.
It's a brown, slightly cloudy, liquor.
I did it! It's a Shift! I can go home!
Cortez said something about Mr Westhouse being the key to Shifting back. Maybe...maybe there's something magical about the watch he gave me.
I can't hold my liquor. I'll be spending the rest of the day doubled over, staring into the ocean and...uh... I'll just not have any.
No, I can't hold down strong liquor.
That'd be just rude.
Mr Westhouse? Sir? Are you in there?
I guess he's not at home. He should really lock up...but then again, how many people know somebody's actually living down here?
Mr Westhouse isn't at home.
I should talk with the man.
I should at least say hello before getting down to business.
No. No, that's very unlikely. From what I hear, he doesn't much enjoy the company of women. Who in damnation are you?
Sorry, I don't know who--
April Ryan, sir.
Ryan? That doesn't sound very Northlandian. Are you by any chance from the coast of...
Apparently. Until today, I thought I was just from Earth. I had no idea there were two of them.
Hah! Takes you by surprise, doesn't it? Well, God damn! Sit down, Miss Ryan, let me get you a drink.
Hold on...Ryan? April Ryan? I'll be damned -- you're from Stark!
Hello, Mr. Westhouse.
Back again so soon, Miss Ryan?
How did you end up here, in Marcuria?
Hah! That's quite a story. I won't bore you with the details, but suffice it to say, I was always somewhat of an adventurer.
So what happened in India?
I've tried to forget about it, to be honest. If I could go back and convince myself not to... But I still wouldn't have listened, of course. The unknown attracts.
I was born in 1902, in Boston, but by the time I was seventeen, I'd put that life behind me. I spent the next three years at sea, and then I wandered around Europe for a time...
It was amazed, and quite skeptical at first, but the thought of a whole new world to see...and magic... I was a fool, of course, but who knew where my curiosity would bring me?
I ended up in Tibet, in the winter of '34, wading through snow up to my chest, thinking for sure that this was it, I was going to die.
Manny pulled me out of that one, thank God. I spent three months in a monastary before...pushing on, into the void. There's only one way for a non-Shifter to pass through the Divide, and it's not an easy road to take.
Cortez told me to look you up.
He did, did he? I see. Who's Cortez?
You don't know him?
I think not. I'd certainly remember-- Did you say Cortez? You wouldn't be talking about old Manny Chavez, would you?
I don't know his first name, but he calls himself Cortez.
Tall fellow, mysterious and elusive, rarely answers a question with a simple yes or no? Smokes like a chimney?
Aside from that bit about smoking like a chimney, it sounds exactly like Cortez.
Manny! I'll be damned. That old crook is still around. How the devil is he?
He's good. Where do you know him from?
My old life, back in Stark. We had some exciting adventures, him and I. Actually, he's part of the reason I ended up here. I last saw him in the winter of 1934.
But that's almost three hundred years ago!
Yes. Funny, isn't it? And I'm sure he doesn't look a day older than he did back then, the handsome devil.
Well, if I'm going to accept magic and parallel worlds, I might as well accept people living three hundred years.
Oh, no, you misunderstand. I'm only forty-six. I arrived here about fifteen years ago, but I...left Stark in 1934.
For three hundred years?
Time went by pretty fast. It didn't seem so bad at the time, but now that you mention it...three hundred years...quite disconcerting, really. Quite disconcerting.
I should get going.
Very well. You're welcome back at any time, Miss Ryan. Any time.
Thank you, sir. I'll remember that.
I should get going.
All right.
Cortez said to look you up when I wanted to go back home, to Stark.
Now why would he say that? I'm not a Shifter, and I don't know any magic. I'm sorry, Miss Ryan, but you'd be better off asking the Sentinel priests for assistance.
Already did. They said I was on my own, that they couldn't help me.
Bloody typical. Those reactionary fools wouldn't extend a hand to help a drowning man if it violated the principles of their bloody Balance.
I have a delivery for you.
A delivery? When did the U.S. Postal Service start delivering mail to Arcadia?
It's from the map merchant at the market. It's just a map.
Ah, good. I've been waiting for-- Hold your horses, what are you doing working for the Guild? Are you planning on staying in Marcuria?
I'm not planning on staying, but I had to find you. The map merchant was the only one who knew where you lived, and he wouldn't tell me.
I'd strongly advice against it, Miss Ryan. Arcadia may look like a pastoral fairy-tale realm, but it's not. You bleed as easily here as you do in Stark, and magic can do more damage than a gun.
So I got him to hire me, and you were the second delivery on my list.
Ye gods. Karek and his misguided loyalty. I'll have a word with the man. Thanks for the map, though. I collect them. There's not much else to do in this godforsaken city.
He ought to be dead by now. But then, by all rights, so should I.
Between the worlds, where you dream, time has little meaning. I was trapped, you see, for quite a while.
The promise of virgin territory, untouched by civilization, held great sway with me in my youth, as did the idea of a highly spiritual state of mind -- the occult, magic, karma...
In the early thirties -- the nineteen-thirties, of course -- I found myself in India, working as a journalist. That's where I met Manny. And that's where I first heard of Arcadia.
Now...if you don't mind, I'd prefer not to talk about the past anymore. There's more than enough to worry about in the present.
But I can't think why Manny would tell you to visit me in order to Shift home. It just doesn't make sense.
Sign this, please. It's just to confirm that I made the delivery.
Certainly.
Hold on one second, Miss Ryan. I just remembered something.
It was such a long time ago, I'd almost forgotten, but Manny did give me something that might be of interest.
Hello, Mr Westhouse?
Damnation, what is it now?
Oh. I guess you're not... You're not calling on behalf of that son of a bitch Sanyef, are you?
It's a pocket watch. Manny gave it to me the last time I saw him. I never quite understood why, but maybe you can tell me.
What is it?
Did he say anything about it?
He said that when his heart started beating again, he would know. It would be like a message in morse code. A beacon.
The damn watch never worked, and the winding mechanism is broken, so it's probably not worth much. You're welcome to it, if it's any help.
Thanks.
By God, it's a Shift! I haven't seen one for ages.
Why don't you come back with me, Mr Westhouse? You could say hello to your old friend...Manny.
If I tried to step through that, Miss Ryan, I would suffer a most unpleasant experience, and I would be lost in the between forever. And besides, I built this house with my own two hands.
I wouldn't want to leave it to these barbarians. And what does your Stark have to offer me? This world is more recognizable to me now.
No, you go ahead, Miss Ryan. Go back, and don't let your curiosity of the unknown tempt you into making another Shift.
Thanks for your help.
Say hello to Manny for me. Tell him...tell him I'm doing all right, and that I said thanks.
The liquor over here stinks to high heaven -- magic pollutes the purity of the spirit -- but I keep a bottle of Glenfiddisch for special occasions.
Thanks for the offer, sir, but I didn't come here to have a drink.
Really? I see. This isn't a social call.
No, sorry.
No matter, it's still a pleasant surprise to meet someone from home. Now, what may I do for you?
Hi there, Mr Westhouse. I'm back.
Hello.
My word! What on Earth possessed you to return to this godforsaken place? You were lucky to escape the first time, but now you're really pushing it.
It's not that bad a place, or else you wouldn't stay here. Besides, this time I didn't exactly come here by choice.
I stay here because I'm a true masochist, miss Ryan. And who forced you to come? Was it...Cortez?
He doesn't even know I'm here, unfortunately. No, I think I had some kind of -- accident -- with my so-called "powers". I Shifted. In my underwear.
Oh. Hah! Isn't that the way it is, though? We always cross the Rift at the most inopportune times. Hah! Care for a drink? No, that's right, you don't.
Would you mind helping me with a few questions?
I've nothing better to do, so...shoot.
Thanks, Mr Westhouse.
Anytime, April. Come back if you're homesick and you feel like talking to a fellow alien.
Thanks, Mr Westhouse.
Always a pleasure, April.
I have some more questions for you.
Shoot.
I have a delivery for you.
Do you know anything about dragons?
I try to stay out of the affairs of the Kin these days... What precisely do you wish to know about the damn beasts?
There are two dragons in Arcadia, and I'm trying to locate them.
Yeah, I've heard that tale myself. But no, no I don't know anything about it. You'd be better off speaking with the Sentinel Minstrum. After all, religion is their specialty, not mine.
Did you ever hear a story about a god who fell from the sky?
Stories aren't my thing, April. You should visit a library, I'm sure you'll find some stories in the books. I know the Sentinel have a library somewhere near the city.
I've also heard rumor of a people with wings who do nothing but observe and record history through stories, but I don't know if that's all it is -- a rumor.
I'm looking for a disc that will open up the Guardian's realm.
That's religion, Miss Ryan, and the only things I worship are whisky, a good cigar, and a nice, long-- Ahem. Anyway, don't ask me about all that Balance mumbo-jumbo.
Would you be able to tell me where I could look for the entrance to the Guardian's realm?
In Tobias' pants, if he had his wish, I'm sure. No, sorry. I don't know anything about Guardians, Balance, Sentinel or gardening. Now, if you're interested in bullfighting, I could talk all night.
Bullfighting is a horrible act of cruelty to animals, and not much of a "sport" at all.
I'll just forget you said that, Miss Ryan. If there's one thing I miss about Stark, it's bullfighting.
I can't think of any more questions for now.
Then let's talk about other things, shall we?
What did you say about the flying people?
They're supposed to be great storytellers, and they've been observing this world for a very long time. But it could only be a rumor.
Still, if you're looking for stories, it may be wise to check it out and see if you can find them.
You'll be happy to hear, then, that they abolished bullfighting hundreds of years ago.
Damn!
I don't have any more questions for you.
Very well.
A delivery? When did the U.S. Postal Service start delivering mail to Arcadia?
It's from the map merchant at the market. It's just a map.
Ah, good. I've been waiting for-- Hold your horses, what are you doing working for the Guild? Are you planning on staying in Marcuria?
I'd strongly advice against it, Miss Ryan. Arcadia may look like a pastoral fairy-tale realm, but it's not. You bleed as easily here as you do in Stark, and magic can do more damage than a gun.
I'm not planning on staying, but I had to find you. The map merchant was the only one who knew where you lived, and he wouldn't tell me.
So I got him to hire me, and you were the second delivery on my list.
Ye gods. Karek and his misguided loyalty. I'll have a word with the man. Thanks for the map, though. I collect them. There's not much else to do in this godforsaken city.
I figured you'd still be here, Brian.
(slurred) April bloody Ryan! Well, what do you know. Good to see you, girl. Now get the hell outta Marcuria before the shit hits the fan.
Still around, God damn it? Get going! Get outta Marcuria now!
You're not leaving, are you, Mr Westhouse?
I guess I'm not. I always was an idiot.
You're not an idiot, Mr Westhouse. Brian. You're just fighting for something you believe in, something you care about.
I don't care a whittle about this bloody town.
I think you do. I think you care a lot, but you hate to admit it.
Yeah, well... I built this house with my own two hands, y'know. First thing I ever did that I was proud of. Real proud of.
I ain't about to leave it to those damn Tyren trolls, waltzing in here under the pretense of defending their borders. It's the Vanguard holding their leash, be sure of that.
What are you gonna do when they get here?
I got an old gun locked up in the pantry. Enough bullets to take down at least two dozen of those goblins. I'm going down fighting, that's for sure.
You'll be fine. I'm sure of that. Just -- leave the bottle be until the victory party, okay?
Don't worry about that, girl. That's my last batch of real whisky...all I got left now is bloody Marcurian wine, and believe me, you don't want to get drunk on that.
(laughs) I believe you. Just take care of yourself, Brian. Take real good care.
And you, Miss Ryan. I'll be keeping my fingers crossed for you, and if you ever come back this way...
I promise to visit you. Of course. Goodbye, Brian.
