Chapter 4 — Valhalla
And thus begins Chapter Four.
At last.
After trains.
After buses.
After additional buses pretending to be destinations.
After livestock assisted navigation.
I finally arrived.
The council applauds.
Children.
Standing before me was Destiny.
And Destiny had a name.
Valhalla Inn.
The council nods.
An appropriately dramatic name.
A place where exhausted travelers arrived after battling public transportation.
A place where wanderers crawled ashore after crossing oceans of poor decision making.
A fitting name indeed.
Now.
The first thing I did was check in.
The second thing I did was discover civilization.
The council looks confused.
Children.
A proper toilet.
The council erupts.
You laugh.
But after three days of squatting over holes,
encountering porcelain feels like reuniting with an old friend.
A glorious friend.
A noble friend.
And thus commenced an event best described as geological.
The council immediately moves on.
Wise.
Now.
After civilization had been appreciated appropriately,
I entered my room.
It was.
cozy.
The council waits.
That is genuinely the entire description.
Not luxurious.
Not magnificent.
Not beautiful.
Cozy.
It felt safe.
And after three days of wandering through trains, stations, buses, and confusion,
safe was exactly what I needed.
Now.
Curiously,
the hostel appeared empty.
No travelers.
No backpackers.
No wandering philosophers.
Nothing.
A ghost town.
The council grows suspicious.
Correct.
Now.
Having arrived in a new place,
I performed the ancient ritual of travelers everywhere.
I smoked a cigarette.
Then wandered aimlessly.
And eventually stumbled upon a pub.
The council applauds.
Of course.
Now.
I ordered a beer.
Simple.
Reasonable.
A perfectly ordinary decision.
Then the barkeep smiled.
The council immediately becomes concerned.
Children.
Never trust a man smiling mysteriously in a mountain town.
Nothing good has ever followed.
The barkeep leaned forward.
And asked.
“Want magic pancakes?”
The council pauses.
Now.
Being the intellectual giant that I am,
I assumed exactly what you would assume.
Pancakes.
Perhaps decorative pancakes.
Festive pancakes.
Pancakes with sparklers.
The sort of thing restaurants do when they’re trying too hard.
The council nods.
Reasonable.
Children.
I was catastrophically wrong.
What arrived before me was a chocolate covered monstrosity containing enough mushrooms to concern several governments.
A pancake in the same way a dragon is technically a lizard.
The council erupts.
Now.
Faced with this mysterious delicacy,
I made a decision.
A terrible decision.
The best kind.
I ordered two.
The council buries their faces in their hands.
Children.
Nobody has ever accused me of moderation.
And thus I ate both.
Entirely.
Without hesitation.
Without caution.
Without survival instincts.
The barkeep watched.
Growing increasingly horrified.
Then came the question.
The council braces.
“You ate both?”
The barkeep looked at me the way one might look at a man who has accidentally swallowed a hand grenade.
The council applauds.
A fair comparison.
Now.
Apparently.
Apparently.
One was intended.
One.
Not two.
The council nods.
A crucial detail.
A detail that would’ve been useful approximately five minutes earlier.
The barkeep then delivered what sounded less like advice and more like prophecy.
“Get to your room as soon as you can.”
The council grows quiet.
Children.
He did not say this casually.
He said it the way sailors warn each other about storms.
The way villagers warn travelers about forests.
The way old men warn heroes before the beginning of a quest.
And that’s when I knew.
I had made an error.
A magnificent error.
But an error nonetheless.
Now.
I paid.
Immediately.
Then ran.
Not jogged.
Not walked.
Ran.
The council applauds.
At last.
Self preservation.
Now.
Halfway back to Valhalla,
the world began changing.
The council leans forward.
Colors tasted different.
Sounds developed texture.
Time became negotiable.
Reality stopped behaving according to manufacturer specifications.
Maximum synesthesia.
Children.
I could practically smell music.
The universe had become an art project.
Now.
Somehow.
Against all odds.
I reached my room.
Closed the door.
Collapsed onto the bed.
And vanished.
The council waits.
An eternity passed.
Worlds rose and fell.
Stars were born.
Civilizations crumbled.
I journeyed beyond time itself.
Then I checked the clock.
One hour.
The council loses composure.
Children.
That felt deeply unfair.
Now.
I lay there.
Grinning.
Not because I was happy.
Not exactly.
Not because I was enlightened.
Not because I had discovered some profound truth.
No.
I was grinning because I knew.
Somehow.
Instinctively.
Absolutely.
This was the beginning.
Not of the journey.
Not of Kasol.
Not even of the wandering.
But of a story.
One of those stories that survives.
One of those stories you tell years later.
One of those moments that quietly steps out of ordinary life and declares.
“Remember me.”
And so I did.
Thus concludes Chapter Four.
The Magic Pancakes.
Or alternatively.
The Day Nuo Consumed Twice The Recommended Amount Of Mystery.
A terrible decision.
A wonderful memory.
And the first sign that the mountains had plans for me.
