Kaldalis wasted no time getting a worm on his hook and his line in the water. It was everything he wanted.

Balrim and Myrin took a bit longer, due to some technical issues. Myrin’s smaller suyon arms struggled with the length of the pole, since it didn’t resize to fit her stature. Meanwhile, Balrim was apparently a bit squeamish when it came to spearing the worm.

But their lines were hanging off the deck and in the water not too long after Kaldalis’ initial cast.

He wasn’t really sure what to expect. In most MMOs, the fishing minigame usually only took a few seconds before it was time to reel. Rundan was different, however. It seemed to resemble a bit more of the real world’s logic. Sure, he was fishing off the back of a boat traveling across the ocean, but things were biting. Patience was going to be the name of the game.

Kaldalis relaxed for a few minutes, watching the waves go by. Aside from the strange blue tint reflecting off his cheeks, the awkward weight of his horns, and the way he could feel every twitch of his tail deep in his spine, this was perfect.

It was exactly what he wanted.

Fishing would fill the time for the journey. He would be able to progress a useful skill in some way, and, most importantly, he could just kick back and think about things.

Like how he was going to prepare for Nakala’s entry. Or why he was even on this boat in the first place.

After a few minutes, the tip of his rod started to bob a little, and Kaldalis jumped at his first bite. He almost felt like an excited little kid again as he gripped the crude reel and started trying to retrieve his catch. The fish was fighting him, and it was a surprising struggle as the line whipped back and forth in the water. He didn’t know what the movement meant, but he tried to follow what he knew of real-life fishing, as well as videogame fishing. He struggled to force the reel to just keep turning, pulling the fish closer and closer.

After a moment, a silvery-scaled body broke the surface. It was surprisingly small for the amount of struggle it was putting up; it couldn’t have been more than a foot long. It thrashed in the air for a moment, and then Kaldalis’s line went slack.

He pulled up a wormless hook.

“What the fuck? What happened?”

Balrim was struggling with a fish of his own by now, and Myrin was trying to coach him through it, but his line went slack as well, bait gone with no fish to show for it.

“I don’t understand,” Balrim said, “what am I supposed to do?”

“Was there a tutorial for this?” Kaldalis asked. “Even just a throwaway message from the tutorial you could reference?”

“There was nothing in the tutorial about it,” Balrim complained, “and nothing now, when an informational message would be useful.”

“It is an unfinished mechanic,” someone said nearby, from the other side of Myrin. “There is no tutorial. It is a kind of proto-skill. A relic. The first pass of the gathering mechanics. Apparently excavation and harvesting were changed but fishing was left behind.” The speaker was a Finnian in chainmail, with skin the color of gunmetal. He was tall with sharp features, differing from the most stereotypical elf by his broad shoulders and thick biceps. “The mechanics of fishing are a relic of an earlier design for the game. Or, at least, that’s what folks say.”

“You’re out here doing it too, though,” Balrim observed.

“I do not say that to judge,” the finnian said, “or to disparage. Only to provide context.”

“So how does it work?” Kaldalis asked, trying to ignore the frustration in the pit of his stomach. “I’m very interested in pursuing it in the longer term, but I just need a little hand getting started, you know?”

“Sooner rather than later!” Myrin squawked as the tip of her rod began to bob. “What do I do? I don’t want to mess it up!”

“It is relatively simple,” the finnian said, holding up his rod and putting a hand on the reel to demonstrate. “The goal is to drain the fish’s health bar. Reeling drains it, but gives it opportunities to escape. Keep the tip of the rod pointed in the same direction as the fish to make it harder to break free. If it starts to change directions rapidly, just stop reeling or it might break loose.”

“Okay! Okay!” Myrin started reeling carefully, whipping the rod back and forth with entirely more panic than was necessary. “What else?”

“It will jump,” the finnian continued. “Let the line go slack when it does, or it will throw the hook. Not only will you lose a fish, but if it is close, you might find the angler becomes the angled.”

Kaldalis laughed at that, imagining a fish spitting a hook right into the face of the fisherman trying to catch it. The finnian gave him a thin smile in response.

Myrin did her best to keep with the directions she’d been given, and after a few moments of struggle, the line emerged from the water right beneath the dock, with a fish still attached. It was about a foot long, with silvery scales. There was a spotted pattern in a line going back from its gills, on a line with its eye.

To Kaldalis, it looked kind of like a herring.

But, in reality, it was their first catch.

“Good work,” the finnian said with a nod and a firm clap to the suyon’s broad shoulder.

“Thanks!” Myrin said, her small face alight with joy. “That wasn’t such a hard explanation to give. Monsoon should hire you to do tutorial description.”

The elf gave a bark of laughter at that. Kaldalis realized that this person probably did work for Monsoon before they got put into this world.

Would he be targeted for helping them?

“Little late for that, now,” the finnian said with a sly smile. But, you can repay my teachings by helping your friends. You have a grip on it now. Pay forward the gift of knowledge.”

Myrin helped Balrim with his next cast, but Kaldalis felt like he’d heard everything he needed to know. He didn’t wait for the suyon’s attentions.

With a flick of his wrist, Kaldalis sent out his next cast. He focused on the fight against the fish just as he’d been told.

It didn’t go great. He lost one by trying a little too desperately to keep the reel going when he should have been waiting, and the one after that threw his hook by leaping again. But his third retry was a good one and he got the fish up into his hands.

It was another of those wedge-shaped herrings with a line of spots along the shoulder.

He wondered what it would taste like. How much it would sell for, both raw and cooked. Would he need to gut it? Could he harvest roe himself to make fishing self sufficient?

All his questions melted away as he threw out another cast. And then another.

Kaldalis spent the rest of the day fishing.

Balrim and Myrin stuck with him for a while - and returned periodically after leaving - but they didn’t stay all day. Neither did almost anyone else. The people on the fishing deck rotated pretty regularly as people went to eat or practice or fill their time in other ways.

Fishing was exactly what Kaldalis wanted, though.

He got time to just sit quietly and watch the ocean, without feeling like he was entirely wasting his time, with the serenity punctuated by brief but satisfying struggles.

Why would he leave?

In the quiet parts, he thought about the fishing he got to do growing up. He missed those times, partially because the scenery was more interesting - most environments paled in comparison to the vibrant forests of Washington State, but the featureless ocean especially - but mostly for the company. He went with his dad and sister, and it was one of the only times he really felt like he was bonding with his father. It was also the only time he’d ever really gotten to look out for his sister; she was self-sufficient in all things, but she sucked at casting out the line, and so he always did it for her, which made him really feel like a big brother for a change.

He tried to focus on the pleasant memories, but thinking about his childhood reminded him of the other times. The times he felt like a disappointment to his father, or just a person he happened to share a last name with to his sister. But quietly fishing was the best time for those thoughts. Quiet moments of somber reflection were rare and valuable, especially since he moved to the big city. There’d been no legal fishing waters within striking distance without taking a day off, leaving only videogame fishing. And no fishing minigame he’d experienced yet gave him enough time to just sit alone with his thoughts. But this one was the real deal. It let him wrestle with his inner demons, a struggle he’d been avoiding for an unhealthy amount of time.

Kaldalis was just settling in after a catch when a commotion at the other side of the fishing deck caught his attention. He looked over to see the other fishers scattered as one man was wrestling with his line in an unusually animated fashion. It was the finnian from earlier, and his rod swept back and forth almost violently. As the other fishers cleared the area, the broad-shouldered elf staggered until the pull of the rod, straining visibly as whatever he’d hooked whipped back and forth with unbelievable speed and strength.

His first instinct made Kaldalis toss his own rod aside and rush to the finnian’s side, even as everyone else scattered. A sudden yank from the fish sent the Finnian stumbling, and Kaldalis lunged forward, grabbing his shoulders to stop him from careening over the edge.

“Thanks,” the elf grunted, arms straining against the fish’s pull.

“How can I help?” Kaldalis asked.

“Don’t let go,” the finnian said as the fish careened back in the other direction.

Kaldalis grabbed him around the waist, and even with both of their weights together, the fish dragged them skidding sideways across the deck, almost over the railing on the other side. He was suddenly very aware of his tail as it shifted of its own accord, helping him to keep his balance as they slid. The little assist let him keep the finnian stabilized.

The finnian was reeling furiously, and Kaldalis wondered at what his fishing skill must be for his hands to be that quick. He also got a chance to look at the fancy rod he had. It looked more like a real-world modern fishing rod, made of flexible fiberglass - or some equivalent - that was tough enough to stand up to the punishment this fish was subjecting it to without shattering.

The fish broke the surface, leaping, and the finnian’s deft hands let up on the reel to let the line go slack while it was in the air.

Kaldalis felt his jaw drop at the sight of the beast on the hook.

It was nearly eight feet long, and looked like a marlin - a giant swordfish. Its back was jet-black, and its belly was lily-white, but as it flailed through the air, the sun caught the enormous saillike fin on its back, throwing back a beautiful sapphire color. The beast hit the water again and ripped back to the right, dragging the pair of fishermen with it.

The struggle took several minutes, and Kaldalis was out of breath by the end of it. And he wasn’t even the one reeling. But at long last, the finnian let out a gasp of relief when the tension in the line loosened without going entirely slack, the final sign that the fish’s health bar had been depleted, and it was beaten. Kaldalis helped him haul the giant fish up onto the deck.

“Well done,” the finnian said, clapping him on the shoulder. The elf’s tone conveyed more gratitude than the words did.

“No problem,” Kaldalis said, “though anyone else would have done the same.”

The finnian arched an eyebrow at that and glanced around the fishing deck. There were three other fishers there, and they coughed uncomfortably.

“Regardless, I’m happy to help.” He held out his hand. “I’m Kaldalis.”

“Aurigeant,” the elf shook his hand and then shook the fish at him. “We should get this to the kitchens. I’m sure they’ll be happy to have something to supplement tonight’s dinner.”