The first thing Arthur realized was that he didn't have a headache. This was unusual, considering the last thing he remembered was the sharp, metallic tang of a falling bookshelf and the realization that he really should have used wall anchors.
The second thing he realized was that he was standing on a floor made of solidified starlight, and his shoes were missing.
"Oh, good. You're not a screamer," a voice boomed. It was like the voice of a very charismatic theater actor who had just finished a really good cup of coffee.
Arthur turned. Sitting on a throne carved from what looked like condensed nebulae was a man. He wore a regal, floor-length robe that shimmered with the colors of a sunset, but he was also leaning back with his feet up on a footstool made of a small, sleeping cloud. He was currently tossing a gold coin into the air and catching it.
"Where am I?" Arthur asked. His voice sounded surprisingly steady for a man who had recently been flattened by an Oak wood bookshelf, stacked till the top.
"The Hall of Respite," the being said, flashing a grin. "I'm the Arbiter. I handle the logistics of the Unscheduled Departure department. Basically, you died, Arthur. It was quick, it was efficient, and honestly, the cat survived, so you can go into the afterlife with a clear conscience."
"I'm dead," Arthur repeated. He looked at his hands. They were slightly translucent. "Great. Just great. I had a pizza in the oven."
"So that's your first thought? A pizza? Honestly, I respect that," the Arbiter dismissed with a wave. "Now, down to business. Usually, people go straight to the Great Beyond—white light, ancestors, the whole peace for eternity thing. But every few thousand souls, the cosmic wheel hits a snag, and we get a Wildcard. That's you."
"A wildcard?"
"You can't go back to Earth. That bridge is burnt. But, because I'm in a good mood and your death was hilarious, I'm giving you a choice. I've got four worlds in need of a soul. Think of it as a relocation."
The Arbiter snapped his fingers. Four swirling orbs of light appeared between them, floating like soap bubbles.
"Option one," the Arbiter pointed to a dim, grey orb. "The Vault. It's a dying world. The sun is basically a giant, flickering candle. It's perfect if you like wearing fifteen layers of wool and writing depressing poetry about the inevitable end of all things. Pros: Very quiet. People are waiting for their end. Cons: Your toes will fall off by Tuesday."
Arthur looked at the grey wasteland within the orb. "Pass."
"Fair enough. Option two: The Maw." The next orb was a violent, pulsing red. Inside, Arthur saw a creature the size of a skyscraper biting the head off a slightly smaller creature. "A death-world. High-octane survival. Everything there wants to eat you, including the plants and probably the air. If you survive for a week, you'll have abs of steel. If you don't, well...you'll be part of the food chain."
"Absolutely not," Arthur said.
"Option three: The Silent Eden." A lush, vibrant green orb. "No humans. No politics. No taxes. Just you and a few billion squirrels. It's a paradise, provided you don't mind talking to yourself for the next sixty years. The squirrels are great listeners, but they're very judgmental about nut storage."
Arthur sighed. "Is there something... normal? Like, with houses? And people?"
The Arbiter beamed. "I thought you'd never ask. Option four: Aurelia."
The fourth orb glowed with a brilliant, golden light. Arthur saw sprawling stone castles, knights on horseback, and, flying through a mountain pass, a dragon with scales that glittered like emeralds.
"Classic fantasy," the Arbiter explained. "Kings, queens, magic, and dragons. It's got drama, it's got ale that actually tastes like ale, and the dragons are surprisingly conversational if you don't try to steal their jewelry. It's our most popular destination."
Arthur looked at the golden world. It looked dangerous, sure, but it also looked like an adventure. "I choose this one. Not like I have any choice."
"Excellent choice! It's much more fun than the squirrel world," the Arbiter stood up, stretching his cosmic limbs. "Now, I can't send you there as a total amateur. I have a few Buffs on hand. It's up to you to choose the one you want.
The Arbiter held out his hand, and four glowing icons appeared.
"Pick your poison:
1. The Excalibur. (It used to have another name, but given your name, I decided to change it). A sword capable of making even the most ordinary man into the mightiest warrior. Side effect: Causes the user to feel the urge to battle and duel. Randomly causes feelings of bloodlust.
2. The Divine Mantle. A heavy, gold-threaded cloak that creates an impenetrable barrier of sunlight around the wearer. It can stop a dragon's fire or a master assassin's blade. Side Effect: Has mental side effects.
3. The Sovereign's Quill. Writes or draws whatever the user is imagining. Side effect: Grants the user a buff they desire. Buff is random, chosen from the user's memories.
Arthur hesitated. He thought about the dragons, the kings, and the unknown dangers. The sword and mantle were tempting, but he had never been the type of guy to fight. And he wanted to avoid danger if possible. The side effects were the drawback. That combined with his passion for designing clothes, made the choice easier.
"I pick the quill," he said.
"An interesting choice. I am curious to see what the side effect will be." The Arbiter handed him the quill, which shone brightly, but calmed down after a while. It was gold in colour.
"Well, it has granted you the buff. I don't see a difference. Do you feel smarter?"
Arthur felt the same as before. "Nothing has changed."
"You will find out in due course, whatever it may be. Now are you ready?", asked the man. Arthur tried to ask one more question, but the starlight floor vanished. He felt himself falling, not through darkness, but through a sky that smelled like woodsmoke and old parchment.