Marvin Preston knew exactly how to kill a dragon. The key was timing the dodge roll perfectly, then striking at the exposed underbelly with a weapon that had at least a +3 enchantment bonus. Ideally something with frost damage, since most dragons had inherent resistance to fire.

  "Excuse me, but do you have the new Eternal Kingdoms game?"

  Marvin blinked, his mental dragon-slaying tutorial evaporating as he focused on the teenager standing in front of him. The GameStop store around him hummed with the familiar sounds of demo kiosks and the murmur of customers discussing release dates.

  "Eternal Kingdoms? Sure thing." Marvin reached under the counter and produced the game with a flourish that he'd practiced for such occasions. "You're in for a treat. The crafting system is revolutionary—they've implemented a full alchemical reaction table where ingredients interact based on elemental properties."

  The teen's eyes glazed slightly. "Cool. Is there, like, a gore setting I can max out?"

  "There is," Marvin nodded seriously, "but the real beauty is in the narrative branching system. Your choices actually matter."

  The customer handed over his credit card with the vacant expression of someone who had accidentally made eye contact with a street performer. Marvin continued undeterred.

  "I actually wrote a thirty-page analysis of the previous game's lore inconsistencies. I could email it to you if you're interested. I found fourteen direct contradictions to the established cosmology."

  "That's... something." The teen took his game and receipt, backing away slowly. "Thanks."

  "May your critical hits be plentiful!" Marvin called after him, using his standard farewell. The teenager gave a hesitant wave before escaping through the sliding doors.

  Kevin, the assistant manager, sidled up beside him. "Another convert to the Marvin Preston School of Gaming Enthusiasm?"

  "He'll be back," Marvin said confidently. "Once he discovers the hidden quest in the Whispering Woods, he'll have questions. They always do."

  Kevin snorted. "Boss, you've got to stop treating customers like they're attending a master class in fantasy gaming."

  "Knowledge should be shared," Marvin replied earnestly. "It's not my fault if people don't appreciate the finer points of mana regeneration mechanics."

  "Whatever you say, man." Kevin shook his head with the fond exasperation of someone who had witnessed this exact scene play out countless times. "Anyway, aren't you supposed to be leaving early today? Your flight's tonight, right?"

  "My flight!" Marvin's eyes widened as he checked his Legend of Zelda wristwatch. "Right! London awaits!"

  Back at his small Portland apartment, Marvin surveyed his packing progress with the meticulous attention of a dungeon master planning an encounter. His suitcase lay open on the bed, containing seven gaming t-shirts (one for each day), two pairs of jeans (one regular, one fancy—the difference being imperceptible to anyone but Marvin), an assortment of dice in various denominations, a leather-bound notebook labeled "RESEARCH JOURNAL: THIN PLACES," a plastic sword that lit up when swung (a vital travel necessity, according to Marvin), and a toothbrush.

  On his dresser sat an unopened birthday card from Phillip. Marvin picked it up and tore into the envelope with the enthusiasm of a goblin finding unattended treasure. "A week early, but appropriate given the quest parameters," he mumbled to himself, reading the card. It contained the usual well-wishes and a note mentioning that Phillip had "something special" planned for his birthday during the visit.

  "Level up achieved," Marvin grinned, placing the card on his nightstand. "Passport, passport," he muttered, patting his pockets before spotting it beside a miniature dragon figurine. "Ah, there you are, little fella. The gateway to adventure."

  He picked up the passport, flipping it open to examine his photo. In it, Marvin stared at the camera with the wide-eyed intensity of someone who had just been told to "look natural" and had forgotten what that meant. His sandy brown hair stuck up slightly, giving him a perpetually surprised appearance that matched his general outlook on life.

  At forty-two, Marvin Preston had the enthusiasm of a man half his age and the fantasy knowledge of someone who had spent their entire life cataloging magical creatures. Which, coincidentally, he had. His apartment stood as a testament to this dedication—shelves lined with fantasy novels, walls adorned with maps of fictional realms, and display cases housing meticulously painted miniatures.

  The phone rang, and Marvin fumbled through a stack of character sheets to find it. "Hello, Preston's Portal of Possibilities," he answered.

  "Marvin, it's Phillip. Are you on your way to the airport yet?" The crisp British accent of his younger brother carried a note of concern that Marvin immediately dismissed as unnecessary.

  "Philip! Brother of mine! Yes, almost. Just finalizing my packing checklist."

  "Please tell me you're not bringing that ridiculous light-up sword again."

  Marvin glanced at the plastic sword and quietly moved it behind a pillow. "Of course not. That would be childish."

  "Good. The car I've arranged will be at your place in twenty minutes. Please be ready. Victoria has planned quite an elaborate dinner tomorrow evening, and I have German investors flying in."

  "Sounds exciting!" Marvin said, genuinely meaning it. "I've been practicing my German. Ich bin ein Spielleiter!"

  There was a pause on the line. "That means 'I am a game master,' Marvin."

  "I know! Useful phrase, right?"

  Phillip's sigh carried across the Atlantic with remarkable clarity. "Just... be ready for the car. And Marvin?"

  "Yes?"

  "Try to act... normal. These are very important clients, and I need everything to go smoothly."

  "Define normal," Marvin replied cheerfully.

  "You know what I mean. No lengthy explanations about fictional magic systems, no correcting people about dragon anatomy, and please, for the love of God, no impromptu role-playing scenarios."

  "That was one time, and your college friends secretly loved it."

  "They did not—look, just be ready for the car. I'll see you tomorrow."

  The line went dead, and Marvin placed the phone down with a shrug. He tucked his research journal securely into his carry-on bag, patting it affectionately. "He'll change his tune when I show him my research on thin places," Marvin told his dragon figurine. "London has some of the highest concentrations of dimensional boundary fluctuations in the world. I've mapped them all." The dragon, being plastic, offered no counter-argument.

  The flight to London was uneventful, if one discounted Marvin's lengthy conversation with the flight attendant about whether dragons would be aerodynamically viable in Earth's atmosphere. By the time they reached cruising altitude, he had sketched three different wing configuration proposals on napkins and was debating the insulating properties of scales versus feathers.

  "Could you pass the water, please?" asked the flight attendant, reaching across Marvin for a bottle.

  "Initiating hydration side quest," Marvin replied, handing her the bottle. "Plus ten to stamina restoration."

  The flight attendant's smile froze somewhere between professional courtesy and genuine concern.

  When the man next to him made the mistake of mentioning he enjoyed fantasy novels, Marvin produced his dog-eared copy of "Dimensional Boundaries: Where Fantasy Meets Reality" (self-published) and proceeded to give an impromptu lecture on ley lines and their correlation to reported fairy sightings throughout history. "Most people think fairy rings are just mushroom formations," Marvin explained earnestly as the man pretended to fall asleep. "But my research suggests they're actually manifestations of dimensional thinning. I've documented over forty locations in the British Isles alone where the boundary between worlds might be permeable."

  The man gave a convincing snore. Marvin nodded understandingly and patted his shoulder. "Rest well. The knowledge will be here when you wake."

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Heathrow Airport bustled with activity as Marvin wheeled his suitcase through the terminal, his carry-on bag clutched protectively to his chest. He approached passport control with the solemn reverence of a knight approaching a sacred quest.

  "Purpose of visit?" asked the stern-faced immigration officer.

  "Exploring thin places where the veil between worlds grows permeable," Marvin replied without hesitation.

  The officer looked up from his passport. "Come again?"

  "Visiting my brother," Marvin clarified, then leaned in confidentially. "But also, London sits at the convergence of seven major ley lines, creating potential weak points in the dimensional fabric. Did you know that Hyde Park has three documented instances of unexplained temporal anomalies?"

  The officer stared at him for a long moment. "Duration of stay?"

  "One week, unless I find a fairy ring. Then all bets are off, dimensionally speaking." Marvin winked.

  "Anything to declare?"

  Marvin thought for a moment. "Just a profound appreciation for British folklore and its surprising accuracy regarding interdimensional travel."

  The officer's lips tightened. "Sir, are you being serious about your purpose of visit?"

  "Absolutely," Marvin nodded earnestly. "Though I understand your skepticism. Most people aren't ready to accept the thinning of dimensional boundaries."

  "I meant, are you actually here for tourism or business?"

  "Oh! Yes, visiting my brother. The dimensional research is more of a personal side quest."

  The officer stamped his passport with perhaps more force than necessary. "Welcome to the United Kingdom, Mr. Preston. Try not to get... lost between dimensions."

  "No promises!" Marvin replied cheerfully, accepting his passport and continuing toward the exit.

  The black cab dropped Marvin in front of an elegant townhouse in Kensington. Unlike his modest Portland apartment, his brother's home screamed success in that understated way that only the genuinely wealthy can achieve. Marvin paid the driver with some of the pounds he'd exchanged at the airport, tipping generously because, as he explained to the bemused cabbie, "In most fantasy economies, the working class is severely underrepresented."

  With his suitcase in tow and research journal secure in his hand, Marvin approached the immaculate front door and pressed the doorbell. He heard the chimes echo inside, followed by rapid footsteps.

  The door swung open to reveal a tall, distinguished-looking man in a perfectly tailored suit. Phillip Preston looked like Marvin might have if Marvin had ever discovered the existence of hair product, tailored clothing, or the concept of inside voices. Despite being five years younger, Phillip carried himself with the gravitas of someone who regularly made decisions involving multiple commas in the financial figures.

  "Marvin," Phillip said, his voice a mixture of genuine affection and preemptive anxiety. "You made it. And you're..." he glanced at his watch, "four hours early."

  "The plane defied the space-time continuum," Marvin replied seriously. "Or possibly I wrote down the wrong arrival time. Either way, surprise!" He spread his arms wide, nearly knocking over a delicate-looking vase.

  Phillip deftly caught the vase with the reflexes of someone who had spent years in Marvin's proximity. "Yes, quite surprising. Victoria wasn't expecting to prepare the guest room until this afternoon."

  "Oh, I don't need much. Just somewhere to organize my research materials." Marvin held up his journal. "I've made breakthrough discoveries about London's thin places, Phillip. This city is practically humming with interdimensional energy!"

  Phillip closed his eyes briefly, as if mentally counting to ten. When he opened them, he had manufactured a polite smile. "Fascinating. Why don't you come in before you start attracting attention from the neighbors? Mrs. Whitmore across the street already thinks I'm involved in international espionage."

  "Are you?" Marvin asked, genuinely interested.

  "No, Marvin, I'm a banker. I've been a banker for fifteen years."

  "The perfect cover," Marvin nodded sagely as he stepped into the foyer.

  The interior of the house was even more impressive than the exterior—all gleaming hardwood floors, tasteful artwork, and furniture that looked like it had never been used for building pillow forts. Marvin whistled appreciatively. "Wow, this place is like the royal castle in Final Fantasy XV, but with more throw pillows."

  "Thank you, I think," Phillip replied, closing the door. "Victoria hired an interior designer who would probably be thrilled by the comparison to... whatever that is."

  Marvin spun around to take in the full splendor of the foyer, his backpack swinging wildly. A crystal vase wobbled precariously on a side table as the backpack brushed past it. Phillip lunged forward in slow-motion panic, but Marvin, completely unaware, happened to set down his suitcase at that exact moment. The suitcase bumped the table from the opposite direction, stabilizing the vase just as it was about to topple.

  "Perfect spot," Marvin declared, blissfully oblivious to the near-disaster.

  Phillip exhaled slowly, his heart still racing. "Yes. Perfect. Perhaps keep your... gear... close to your body while indoors?"

  "Where is the lovely Victoria?" Marvin asked, now holding his backpack against his chest like a shield, unintentionally following his brother's advice.

  "Charity luncheon. She'll be back later." Phillip gestured toward the kitchen. "Tea? Or are you too jet-lagged?"

  "Jet lag is merely a state of mind," Marvin declared, following his brother. "But tea would be excellent. Very British. Should I put on an accent?" He cleared his throat. "I say, dear brother, might one trouble you for a spot of the old leaf water?"

  Phillip winced. "Please don't do that for the entire week."

  "No promises!" Marvin replied cheerfully, his eyes already scanning the kitchen for anything that might resemble a secret passage or magical artifact. In Marvin's experience, which was admittedly based entirely on fantasy novels and games, elegant homes often contained such things.

  As Phillip busied himself with the electric kettle, Marvin sat at the kitchen island and opened his research journal. "So, brother of mine, how do you feel about fairy rings?"

  Phillip's shoulders tensed slightly. "Is this about your thin places again?"

  "The ancient Celts believed that boundaries between worlds were not fixed but fluid," Marvin began, flipping to a page covered in intricate hand-drawn maps. "And London sits at a nexus of old power. Ley lines crisscross the city like—"

  Phillip peered over Marvin's shoulder at the journal. The pages were filled with meticulous diagrams, newspaper clippings about strange phenomena, and detailed maps with locations circled in red ink. Post-it notes jutted out from dozens of pages, each labeled with peculiar notations like "temporal slippage" and "fae sightings confirmed."

  "Look here," Marvin said, pointing to a map of London with several concentric circles drawn around specific parks and ancient sites. "Hyde Park has a dimensional resonance frequency that matches exactly with descriptions from Arthurian legends about entrances to Avalon. And here—" he flipped to another page showing a detailed sketch of mushrooms in a circular pattern, "—I've cataloged seventeen distinct fairy ring formations within fifty miles of the city."

  Phillip examined the pages, eyebrows rising higher with each turn. "You've... put a lot of effort into this."

  "Forty-seven late nights, twelve specialized reference books, and three expeditions to confirmed thin places in the Pacific Northwest," Marvin confirmed proudly. "I'm going to find and document every weak point in the dimensional fabric while I'm here."

  "Right," Phillip said slowly, the worry lines on his forehead deepening. He placed a cup of tea in front of Marvin. "I've arranged something special for you tomorrow night. Something I think you'll truly enjoy."

  Marvin looked up, eyes wide with childlike excitement. "A tour of haunted Underground stations? I've cataloged seventeen spectral sightings across the Piccadilly line alone!"

  "Even better," Phillip said, a hint of relief in his voice at successfully changing the subject. "It's a surprise, but I think it's right up your alley. Something... fantastical."

  "Fantastical?" Marvin's face lit up like a child on Christmas morning. "Is it dragons? Did you find real dragons? I knew they were hiding somewhere!"

  Phillip sipped his tea, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Not quite dragons. But I think you'll find it... immersive."

  "Immersive is my middle name," Marvin declared, despite his middle name actually being Herbert. "Or it would be, if our parents had been more creatively inclined."

  As Marvin launched into an explanation of why fantasy names required at least one apostrophe and two unpronounceable consonant clusters, the front door opened. Victoria Preston entered the kitchen, a vision of polished elegance in a tailored dress and pearls.

  "Marvin!" she exclaimed, her smile professionally warm. "You're early!"

  "Victoria!" Marvin jumped up and wrapped her in an enthusiastic hug, lifting her slightly off the ground. "Dimensional travel waits for no man!"

  "Yes, well," Victoria said, smoothing her dress as Marvin set her down. "How... unexpected. We weren't planning to prepare your room until this afternoon."

  "I told him that," Phillip said, giving his wife a quick kiss on the cheek. "How was the luncheon?"

  "Productive. We raised quite a bit for the children's hospital." Victoria turned back to Marvin with the careful smile of someone approaching an unpredictable but ultimately harmless animal. "And how was your flight, Marvin?"

  "The metal sky vessel performed admirably," Marvin replied seriously. "Though I'm still convinced the Heathrow landing pattern intersects with at least two major ley lines, which could explain the turbulence we experienced over Sussex."

  "Of course," Victoria said, exchanging a glance with Phillip that contained an entire conversation's worth of meaning. "Ley lines."

  "I was just telling Phillip about my research. Would you like to see my documentation of London's thin places? I've mapped seventeen potential dimensional crossover points within walking distance of your home!"

  "Actually," Victoria said, brightening considerably, "I've recently been reading about crystal energy and aura cleansing. I wonder if there's any connection to your... thin places?"

  Phillip stared at his wife in disbelief. "You've what?"

  "Oh, it's fascinating stuff," Victoria continued, ignoring her husband's surprise. "My yoga instructor says that certain locations have special energetic properties."

  "YES!" Marvin slammed his hand on the counter in excitement, making both Phillip and Victoria jump. "That's exactly it! The vibrational frequency of certain geographical points creates what I call 'dimensional resonance,' which theoretically could allow passage between realms!"

  Victoria leaned forward with unexpected interest. "Do tell me more."

  Phillip watched in horror as his wife and brother descended into an animated conversation about crystal alignments and fairy folklore. His carefully orchestrated plan to keep Marvin occupied seemed suddenly less urgent as Victoria proved inexplicably receptive to Marvin's theories.

  "Oh!" Phillip said suddenly, remembering something. "Before I forget, Marvin, I have an early birthday present for you." He disappeared into his study and returned with a long, elegant box.

  "Birthday loot drop!" Marvin exclaimed, accepting the box. He opened it carefully to reveal a pair of ornate daggers nestled in velvet. "Whoa," he breathed, lifting one reverently. "Plus five to attack speed, at least."

  "They're Moroccan ceremonial daggers," Phillip explained. "Antiques. I thought they might be useful for your... um... game tomorrow."

  "Best brother ever," Marvin declared, examining the intricate metalwork. "These will be perfect for close-quarters combat when spell slots are depleted."

  "Just what every tourist needs," Victoria murmured with a raised eyebrow at her husband.

  "They're props," Phillip whispered. "For the LARP experience."

  As Victoria helped Marvin admire his new "weapons," Phillip sipped his tea, secure in the knowledge that by this time tomorrow, his eccentric older brother would be safely occupied far away from his important business dinner.

  Neither brother had any idea just how immersive Marvin's London adventure was about to become.