10.24 E

(Sunspot by Yootie, a reader of The Wandering Inn, is on its second arc! Please check it out and give it an upvote, review, or follow! It’s a story I hope becomes a fantastic success, even larger than The Wandering Inn. Then I can demand all the shout outs.)

 

Synopsis:

Dalton “Ezzen” Colliot lost his father to the Frozen Flame on the day magic came to Earth, seven years ago. It left him with a scar on his hand and an obsession—but no spark. In spite of this, he has become a leading, if reclusive, expert in magical theory and glyphcraft, in hopes that he might one day make pilgrimage to the Spire and wield the Flame that passed him over the first time. He longs to transcend and become like the Vaetna he idolizes.

But when he finally gets his lucky break in a second close encounter, he finds that the nature of the Flame is so much more murky and twisted than it had seemed in the glyphs, an inexorably transformative force that reshapes its wielders as much as the world, an exercise in pain. As he grapples with this discovery, he finds himself at the heart of an escalating conflict between the forces of this young age of magic: incandescent magical girls, cutting-edge militaries, and cults worshiping fleeting gods, all scrambling for scraps in the Spire’s shadow.

A webserial about pain, transformation, identity, and choice.

 

 

 

 

She dreamed she was still steering that ship on its final voyage. The broken wood of the ship’s wheel grating against her bruised hands, the scent of burning waves in the air. Smoke, blood, magic, and death in her lungs.

When she looked up, the [Innkeeper] could see spells coming down. Arrows like deadly rain, golden pillars of light—vast presences around her.

Ships getting in her way as she searched for the only person that mattered.

The Goblin. So, she bared her teeth as she whirled the steering wheel, pursuing that single presence in a mad ocean.

The other ships she ran against. Vast presences filled with royal dignity or the march of armored boots and the banners of armies—she rammed into them, forcing them aside. The lights flashed and came down in her dream, and she turned the dying ship through some spells that she couldn’t avoid. Nothing mattered but reaching the Goblin.

An impact came as her ship hit another one. It felt like how she’d killed the Bloodtear Captain; her entire soul crashing against someone else’s. Will against will, splintering conviction and emotions like shards of glass snapping against the other vessels she shoved away. Her eyes were burning. Her body was dissolving into a haze of prickly fire, burning away.

She didn’t care. She didn’t care—

“Your arms.”

The whisper ran past her, a memory, no, a plea, and Erin looked down at her arms. At the skin sloughing onto the ground. She thought she saw her reflection on a fragment of blade lying on the bloody deck and stopped. Her distorted face gazed back up at her.

Only then did Erin Solstice hear the voices pleading at her to stop. She glanced over her shoulders and saw dying Lucifen vanishing in black trails of hellfire. A woman and man she didn’t know, lovers dying next to a burning Antinium covered in pink flame.

“Stop? What’s left to stop for?”

Her head rose to search the sky hailing destruction, and she saw something shooting into the air. A green comet, illuminated by green magic. Written with a single word in Goblin. The [Innkeeper] shaded her eyes as it burned through the air, erasing the spells coming her way. Brighter, brighter, until a hand larger than the sky reached down and gently took hers. Pulling her up—up—

Then she woke up.

 

——

 

Erin Solstice woke in the late morning. The birds were screaming. The sun was shining through the holes in the roof. She jerked upright as Ulvama clutched her hand, and someone lowered the pot he’d been about to hit Erin with.

“She’s up! Okay, she’s up! Everyone, stand down!”

Bowom the [Mad Doctor], Ulvama, Fraerling-sized, and a young [Healer] wearing a pot on her head and hiding behind what remained of an overturned table were the only people in the healing cottage. Or rather, what remained of it.

Erin sat up or maybe made a half-hearted flop up before laying down in the crystal bed covered in goopy healing gel they’d put her in. She didn’t know what was going on. But one look at Ulvama’s relieved face and the…holes in the ceiling…

“What’s going on? Are we under attack?”

Erin began to activate Skills, and Ulvama almost screamed with the other two Fraerlings.

“No! No fighting! Stop hitting things with your aura!”

Hitting things with…? Erin gave them a blank look. Then she gazed around and saw an odd…sight. Aside from the ruined walls, she had spotted the healing crystal cottage, a massive, hollowed-out geode, last night.

She was pretty sure it had been on the outskirts of the modest Fraerling village, not in the middle of it with houses surrounding it. Nor had those houses had…cracks…in them last night.

Sound. The air was filled with other sounds. Erin was aware of distant shouting and Bowom speaking into his stone.

“Roja, Eurise, our guest’s up. You can come back with the high-levels now.”

“What’s going on?”

The [Innkeeper] searched around for the source of all the damage. It took her a few minutes of gazing at Ulvama’s pained face, at the broken buildings around her, and the state of the cottage to put it together.

Ships. Dreaming she was still on the ship, ramming other vessels. Literally slamming into them with her own aura and ship to get them out of the way…

Broken houses. A crumpled up boot with its toe smashed in, a pumpkin caved and pulped inwards, revealing someone’s home, a miniature castle with its gates covered in cracks—

Erin looked at Ulvama. The Goblin’s face was frightened. Worried and helpless—she was breathing hard, eyes wide. Afraid. Of Erin? For Erin?

The [Shaman] wordlessly met Erin’s eyes as her patting hand slowed.

“I…didn’t do that. I can’t have. I was dreaming I was at sea—”

Guilt began to twist in Erin’s stomach, and Ulvama bent over.

“You were looking for me. I think. Thought everyone else was a—bad person. Hard to wake you up. Is okay. No one got hurt.”

She was trying very hard to shield Erin’s view of the chaos outside. The soothing tone was not helped by Bowom. The [Mad Doctor] grinned as he tossed the pot aside with a crash of broken pottery. He winced.

“Eh, uh, let’s pretend you did that too. I was quite impressed, miss. The one time I don’t suggest tying my patients down—just goes to show that best practices are there for a reason. Also, I had no idea buildings could move like that. Like a giant, angry crab scooting itself around and headbutting everything in its way. How many buildings did she take out? Veerni?”

He turned to the younger [Healer] poking her head out from behind the table, looking at Erin as if she were a Creler newly-hatched. Bowom was injured, Erin realized. The three-armed [Mad Doctor]—with a roach’s leg—had a bleeding forehead and several bruises already growing large on his body.

Did I do that? He caught sight of her and waved one of his arms. The one sutured to his back.

“Don’t worry! You stopped trying to beat me down with your aura when Eurise came nearby. Amazingly good prioritization, even when unconscious. Okay, healer roll call! Anyone dying, scream loudest!”

He strode out of the cottage, and Erin closed her eyes and put her head back. Instantly, Ulvama began patting her cheek to keep her from falling asleep. Erin was trying not to look at the Hobgoblin or the [Healer] or anyone.

“I thought—”

“Yah. Maybe you need to relax?”

Ulvama poked Erin in the cheek, and the [Innkeeper] nodded weakly.

That was her first real day in the Fraerling village of Dretonamis.

 

——

 

You would think that smashing six Fraerling houses and injuring several Fraerlings with aura-attacks in your sleep would be a bad way to introduce yourself to the village.

And you’d be right. Erin was still exhausted and kept dozing off as people milled about, shouting, arguing with a very upset Fraerling who Ulvama said was ‘the mayor’. Or close enough to a leader. Every time Erin nodded off, she felt someone poking her and would wake to see everyone peering at her, clearly nervous.

However, either the damage was not catastrophic or Fraerlings were good at rebuilding from this level of disaster, because after what felt like bare minutes of nodding off, Erin woke up on a slant and felt the building moving.

Someone was pushing her uphill. She sat up and couldn’t see, but rather sensed a dozen Fraerlings pushing the broken geode-home up the road where it had come from. This time, Erin tried to get out of bed.

“Aaah! No, no! No getting out of bed! No standing—Bowom! B—wait!”

A young woman rushed forwards, and Erin watched as Veerni, a Fraerling woman a year or two younger than Erin, ran to grab something familiar.

A wheelchair.

“Aw. I don’t need that…”

Erin began, but one look at the young woman’s stricken face and she desisted.

“Please don’t get up, miss. Not until we can tell if your bones are going to jellify from the stress.”

“I—uh—how likely is that?”

“Um…here, sit right here if you want to get out of bed.”

As [Doctor] threats went, that had Erin in the wheelchair rather than moaning, and with a great deal of familiarity, she wheeled towards one open wall, ignoring the crystal bits crunching under her wheels, and peered outside.

The village was in shambles. Dozens of houses were broken, in pieces, splintered bits of wood, even flaming rubble. Erin’s eyes widened in horror as they passed one of the buildings from last night—the helmet-house—completely dented in, rusted metal hanging in pieces as the owner, a Fraerling man, knelt there, staring at his beloved domicile.

Erin slowly wheeled back behind a wall as he turned his head.

“Why? My home! My beautiful home! You did this! You monster!”

“I—I can use [Partial Reconstruction]. I am so sorry about—”

Erin was calling back weakly, coughing, when the man’s neighbor solemnly walked out of his untouched tree-stump house. A Fraerling in a [Wizard]’s hat, whom Erin strongly suspected was a [Wizard], hid a wand behind his back as he patted the other Fraerling on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Macnest. It was the [Innkeeper]. In her sleep. There was nothing anyone could do to stop it.”

He shook his head slowly and gave her a beaming thumbs-up. Macnest rose to his feet, and his face turned red as he pointed at his home. He glanced at Erin, then at his neighbor.

“The [Innkeeper]? She’s not the reason my house was hit with a Tier 5 rust spell!”

“Let’s not look at how it happened, but how we can move on and rebuild, Macnest…we can make it better. More beautiful. Less like a glowing nostril in the night.”

“My home! You cat-kissing bastard! Let’s see how you like it!”

He ran into his home and came out with a pair of hammers. The [Wizard] panicked.

“Wait, wait—let’s not get hasty here. It was the [Innkeeper]! She did it! Macnest, don’t—don’t—”

The smash was of Macnest going through the front doors of the stump house as Erin watched. The [Wizard] shouted and ran, but it was too late; a wall cracked outwards from the inside, and the furious Macnest emerged, swinging his hammers as he smashed through the wall.

“My home!”

“You like that? I’m not sleeping next to an overgrown wooden bucket either! Hey. If the [Innkeeper] broke all those houses…do you think she got Optol’s eyesore?”

The [Wizard] had his wand raised, about to cast magic. He lowered the glowing wand and hesitated.

“You know what? I think she burned the entire snakeskin. And I think he’s hunting. Let’s go.”

They ran off, Macnest only coming back for a larger hammer as Erin watched. At some point, she closed her mouth and realized a lot of the destruction ‘she’ had caused might be Fraerlings taking a hammer to the objectionable architecture of their neighbors…or even their own homes.

“This is crazy.”

Veerni swept a bunch of crystal shards out the opening in the wall and nodded.

“I know. That helmet was stylish. Gollesume—that’s the [Wizard]—he just hates that it glows at night. Everyone’s changing their homes or breaking the bad parts. I wish you’d gotten Optol’s home. It’s a giant snake he hollowed out. Gross.”

“But—they’re breaking their homes.”

“Only the homes.”

“Yeah?”

Erin weakly held out her hand to indicate the helmet-home, exposed to the outer world. Veerni peered at Erin and clarified.

“Oh! They’re doing it now because everyone has to pitch in to fix it. It’s no fun building a home if you wrecked it. Every time we get hit by a storm or a monster, it always looks like this. Shame about this hut, though.”

She heaved a huge sigh.

“This one’s actually just a crystal because it’s good for healing magic. But no one’s dead or crippled! Just, um, don’t do it again because Bowom didn’t tell me how to stop you. Only to hit you with whatever I could find, and I’m pretty sure there’s a 1% chance your insides explode out your mouth and ears if I do.”

Erin Solstice, the crazy Human of Liscor, [The Wandering Innkeeper], the embodiment of chaos, and so on and so forth…kept opening and closing her mouth as she beheld her first Fraerling village. She was lost for words until she glanced around the cottage.

Then—the crystal shards that Veerni was sweeping up and a solid chunk of it floated upwards and stuck itself back together. The cracks faded, and the [Healer] leapt backwards in surprise.

“Whoa! Hey, you can fix it! Nice! No one’s a building-owner class in the villages. That’d help a lot more than some [Wizards].”

She put her broom down and, with a sigh, put her feet up on a stool as she sat on one of the unbroken beds.

“Can you serve better drinks?”

“…Not many. Not really.”

“Damn. How about food?”

“I can cook. [Advanced Cooking?]”

“Eh, we’ve got someone with [Expert Cooking]. D’you have any familiars? Any [Innkeeper]-magic or something?”

“I’ve got [Witch] magic.”

“Sweet! What tier?”

“Three?”

“Oh…well, maybe you can learn some. Do you—do you do entertainment?”

“I have a cool garden.”

Veerni hesitated. She sat up and gave Erin one of those fake smiles that Erin gave to other people.

“Nice.”

Erin rolled back over to her bed and lay back down. She felt like she was dreaming. Only this was—just strange.

 

——

 

Fraerlings. Were. Weird.

Ulvama had known it, but not known it, despite her [Shaman] class, if that made sense. Of course she had delved into Goblin memories to understand the people she and Erin had been rescued by, but here was the thing—Fraerlings were so rare that even her access to ancient Goblin memory was limited in dealings with them.

And a Fraerling village was no glorious city, nor intrepid Fraerlings leaving their homes to see the world, both of which were most common for Goblins to have met. This was the wilds; the village of Dretonamis was exceptionally exposed to nature. True, it had cleared the nearby trees in a small area, but you’d miss this spot entirely from above. A good amount of living space for Fraerlings, complete with three-foot high walls would be utterly missed in this jungle which spanned so many countless miles. There was no magical forcefield or cloaking spells that Ulvama could see.

Dead gods, the houses were a bit enchanted, but they could be smashed up, as Erin’s sleepwalking rampage had proven. The village was…crazy.

For one thing, most Fraerlings didn’t even comment on her walking around. If anything, Ulvama was the one with the Battle Hamster bodyguard for her protection, as he hopped around behind her, using her as a shield to stare suspiciously at passing Fraerlings or things he didn’t recognize.

They had been wary at first. The…[Mayor]? The Fraerling leader hadn’t liked her at all.

Fantim, his name was. A balding Fraerling with a stout chest and a big walrus mustache who had strode up to Eurise and had a shouting match about ‘Eurise’s dangers’ the old Fraerling had allowed into the village. Fantim had not been alone, either. A number of Fraerlings, including worried parents, had approached Eurise to ask if this was going to happen again. Most of the village didn’t have a problem with Ulvama. Most.

“We cannot have Tallfolk, let alone a Goblin, in this place! You are risking all our lives—we are already entangled, Eurise! At least find a Tallguard outpost to shunt them off to!”

“The nearest one’s too many miles away to count. If it happens again, I’ll whistle for a bird, but neither one’s been outright harmful. If they are, I’ll settle it.”

Eurise had shot back, and then someone had asked about whether the ‘Tallfolk’ should be allowed to wander the village, especially Ulvama, the Goblin. Eurise had turned, pointed Ulvama out…

And a worried woman standing on her tip-toes had taken one look at the six-inch-tall Goblin, sized her up, and exhaled.

“Oh. Well, that’s not as much of a threat.”

They’d all wandered off in a huge crowd, audibly speculating whose houses they should break and pin on the [Innkeeper]. It seemed as though the Fraerlings knew Goblins by reputation, were wary of them—but eminently thought they could take Ulvama in a fight.

Indeed, Ulvama had heard a few muttering how disappointed they were that Erin and Ulvama weren’t actually ten times their size. Because that, apparently, would be a ‘fun’ fight.

Fraerlings.

Now, it wasn’t that Ulvama was ignoring Erin…it was just that she had to step away from the cottage for a second. Bowom was getting it pushed back where it had been, and Erin had drifted off again.

Ulvama had to walk away from the cottage, lean against a house, and have a panic attack. Only a mild one.

She’s still not well. Of course, the [Shaman] knew it. But to turn in the middle of getting breakfast to see the crystal cottage moving through the village, ramming into other buildings as it came after her—

Fire and death. Death and battle. Erin had felt like a whirling storm, like she had been when she’d been covered in black flames, before Ulvama woke her up. She wasn’t better. She might have been healing at last, but she was like Tremborag had been. She was…she was going to kill herself. Unless Ulvama did something. And she didn’t know what to do.

The [Shaman] felt like puking. She covered her mouth with her clawed hand as she leaned over, clutching her stomach with the other. She was trying not to retch, to breathe, when a furry head interposed itself under her face.

The Battle Hamster stared at the Hobgoblin quizzically, wondering why she’d stopped. He pushed into her stomach, and she stumbled. When she didn’t move, he crouched, pushed, and she rolled onto his back, and he began to pad forwards. Because he was going to explore, and he needed his shield.

 

——

 

An anxious Goblin and a dangerous, recovering [Innkeeper]. They were quite the duo. Of course the Fraerlings stared. They especially stared at a swaying Hobgoblin lying on the back of a hamster, known as ‘fighting hammies’, padding through the middle of their village.

But you know what snapped Ulvama out of it?

Children. She always paid attention to children. It was an instinct; Ulvama raised her head as she passed by a sitting Fraerling weaving together strands of fiber, making rope for what she assumed at first were grappling hooks.

Ulvama had read books of famous [Rogues] as a child, and even as a Goblin, she had the same image of the nighttime infiltrator using a hook and rope to scale a wall. Real life was a bit more…boring.

Instead of a grappling hook, which was a specialized bit of metal that required quite a bit of luck to snag on a target, Fraerlings used what was essentially a bola attached to the rope that they could toss and wrap around an object. Or, if they were descending, they just tied the rope off.

Or used a piton and hammered it into whatever they were scaling. A Fraerling man and a young boy were making rope. Nothing fancy; it was much like the leaf rope that Ulvama and Erin had made, only they had a nicer-looking fiber. Spiderweb? It seemed slightly sticky, and after weaving them together into a strand, the two would toss a bit of grit over it to prevent it from continuing to stick.

The boy was what Ulvama was interested in. He had bright blonde hair, good, hand-sewn clothing made out of natural greens and browns. It wasn’t bad, but the adult next to him had a bright-red layer of cloth over purple, then a brown tunic, yellow-beige leggings; a kind of colorful poncho that was simple, but attractive.

The boy’s clothing was drab, but well-made; no crude stitching. So why was it so plain…?

So a bird doesn’t swoop down and grab him, Ulvama realized. He probably blended into the background of the forest with his clothing. The adult wore flashy colors because he might be able to defend himself.

It was that kind of thing that told Ulvama this village wasn’t safe. There was danger. Another sign of children, as far as she was concerned, was how obnoxious they were.

Ulvama didn’t like children. She took care of them. Liking children was a luxury for people who didn’t take care of them. Being a [Shaman] meant you worried every second there was a bare blade around little Goblins who might stab each other, eat it, or sit on it. In her experience, non-Goblin children were more bratty. Because they were allowed to be young. Mrsha was a good example of this: she could be annoying as a wasp, but if you asked her to do a chore, she generally did it without whining too much or needing excessive rewards or punishment.

In this case, the boy kept glancing up at Ulvama as the Battle Hamster sniffed at someone’s garden and began trying to uproot a growing carrot…which was larger than it was.

“Wait, stop. Stop—”

Ulvama tried to put it in a headlock and use her Skills, but the hamster had decided her ability to boss around wildlife only worked when it wanted her to. The sight of a miniature Hobgoblin trying to suplex a hamster distracted the boy, who began to stare at her rather than his task.

That was when the adult patiently reached over and nudged the boy’s shoulder.

“Isten. Focus. Watch the visitors later or leave off work. D’you want Rojalin or Midias to get hurt or die if the rope snaps?”

The boy started, glanced down at his rope, which he had braided wrong, and guiltily redid it. Ulvama pulled on the hamster’s head as it tried to bite the carrot, seeing the boy bend to his work with a will.

Oh, that was interesting. There was no blow or snap in the adult’s voice. But the boy, Isten, took it very seriously. He didn’t seem old beyond his years; he peeked at her again, but he stopped weaving each time to look. And even the adult [Weaver], or whatever his class was, watched Ulvama with one eye, but he could probably weave rope in his sleep.

“If ya want, let the hammie take the carrot. It’s not like we’re hungry for food.”

He called out after a moment, and Ulvama was grateful because the hamster already had half the carrot out of the ground. She panted.

“You sure? Whose garden is it?”

They were next to the smashed-in boot, which had been mostly repaired, and the [Weaver] raised a hand.

“Mine. I don’t mind. But cut us a chunk, would ya?”

Ulvama let go, and the hamster triumphantly ripped the carrot out of the ground. Ulvama chased the hamster off before it could begin eating and looked around for a knife.

“Here.”

The [Weaver] tossed a knife into the carrot from where he sat, and Ulvama eyed the sharp blade. It was bright and cut the carrot so fast that the hamster stopped gnawing on it and accepted the top. It sat, munching, as Ulvama cut a generous section out for the two Fraerlings and brought it over.

“Thank ye. What’s your name, stranger?”

“Ulvama.”

“This is Isten, I’m Revoid. Are you a Goblin Chieftain or just a Hob? That’s what your lot are, right? Or is that like asking Dullahans what’s under their armor?”

“I’m a [Shaman]. And a Hobgoblin. It’s fine to ask.”

Ulvama was so startled by the matter-of-fact conversation that she forgot to play stupid. Isten peeked up at her, then focused on his braiding as he got a nudge from Revoid again; another bad braid. The Fraerling spoke.

“Take a break, Isten. You can ask her a question.”

“I dunno what to ask.”

The boy’s voice was young, and Ulvama guessed he was seven? Shy instead of bold. He stared up at her without the fear she was used to seeing from a Human child, which was what he seemed to be to her, at least given her current height. Revoid scratched his chin.

“Might be the only Goblin of a Fraerling’s size you’ll ever see in your life. Better ask a good question. You could ask if she knows why the Goblin Kings go mad. Though I reckon if Goblins knew, someone’d say. Or where she’s from. Maybe ask what a [Shaman]’s like or something known only to Goblins?”

The boy’s face screwed up, and Ulvama was fascinated by how Revoid said it. This may be the only chance in your life…and Isten took it seriously.

“H-how—is being a Hobgoblin better’n being small? Or is it more work?”

The question startled Ulvama so much that she didn’t know what to say. The three of them sat, munching on pieces of carrot; despite its toughness, it went down fast, in massive bites. Being so small meant you ate giant mouthfuls. Being a Fraerling meant you could eat as much as you wanted without feeling full thanks to their amazing metabolisms. The Battle Hamster, meanwhile, had a puffed out cheeks with most of the rest of the carrot inside.

“Being a Hobgoblin…isn’t always better. You get taller and maybe smarter. Maybe smarter—mostly, you’re stronger and bigger, which is nice. But every little Goblin looks up to you, and you’re the one everyone tries to kill first. It’s more work. It’s…responsibility.”

“Oh. Like being adult?”

The boy glanced at Revoid, and the [Weaver] laughed and stretched his legs out. Ulvama laughed too, then saw he had a scaly gecko’s foot and part of his leg. It melded into a hairy leg, and she stared for a second as Revoid wiggled the round, three-toed foot.

“I…little Goblins can be adult. Hobs are just…the difference is…we have something important to do. That means we need to be Hobs.”

The answer seemed to satisfy both Fraerlings. So much so that Revoid nodded at Isten.

“I reckon that was a good question. Y’might want to write it down in the library.”

The Battle Hamster gnawed on the food in its cheek pouch as it stared at Ulvama. She felt rather gratified, and the boy seemed pleased.

“You can ask me another question if you want.”

He shook his head warily.

“I reckon that’s a good one. I dun wanna mess it up with two.”

That made both adults chuckle. Revoid indicated his foot, and Ulvama glanced down at it.

“Tallfolk don’t go around replacing limbs? Or maybe just Goblins don’t?”

“…I’ve never seen anyone with another—limb like that. Magical body parts. But not that.”

“Oh, fake arms, fake legs. We used to do that before Bowom became a [Mad Doctor]. These days, whenever someone loses a limb, he slaps one on. It’s usually better. I heard the big cities do replacement limbs or even regrow anything. Not enough magic here for it.”

So their solution was to literally graft body parts onto any Fraerling that lost a limb? Ulvama didn’t say this was still wildly beyond any technological or magical achievement she was used to.

“Think that [Innkeeper]’ll smash more places up? I don’t feel like redecorating my boot again.”

“No—I hope not. I’m sorry. She’s hurt.”

“Over Level 50?”

“Um…yes?”

Revoid nodded reasonably as Isten listened, head swinging between the two.

“Felt like it. They’re always smashing stuff up or messing about when they hit it. Not sure how many houses until we get tetchy, but Level 50 makes sense. Fought a war, did she?”

“Yes. Almost all by herself.”

Ulvama turned guiltily to where the crystal healing house had reappeared on the hill. Isten’s mouth opened.

“A war? With how many soldiers?”

“It was at sea. Thousands of [Pirates] and—Dullahans. Humans. I don’t know how many.”

The boy’s eyes lit up.

“I want to see the sea someday. I want to swim on a wave and surf down the beach. Not just in Drowned Elf Marsh! A proper wave.”

Perhaps that would have been strange to hear for Erin, who lived in her world of mass transit, but Ulvama took the statement as she might from a child from Liscor or her tribe. Visiting the sea was hard—and as a Fraerling? It had been over a week and a half of journeying through dangerous terrain, and that was with the Corumdon Beetle’s help.

Yet again, Revoid took the statement at face value. He finished his rope, tying off the end, and stood.

“Put that rope aside for a moment, Isten. Not like we’ll get it done today. I reckon you’d have to be at least Level 30, but we might as well write down the question you asked Miss Ulvama here while we’re checking. Y’wanna come, Ulvama? Just to the library there.”

He nodded to a building in the middle of the village. Just a boulder that had been driven into the earth; a round, wooden door painted red was the entrance. Ulvama hesitated, then beckoned to the hamster and followed.

 

——

 

The library of the village was more secure than most buildings. It was sunken into the ground to avoid destruction, and Ulvama could tell it was well-enchanted, if not with what spells. The light came from natural light; when Ulvama entered what she assumed would be a tomb-like room, it was bright and open with maybe as many as two hundred books in varying conditions on the first floor.

The ceiling was see-through! At least from the inside. Ulvama craned her head up, mouth open, and Revoid wore a pleased look on his face. He headed straight for a big tome, twice as wide as Ulvama’s chest, sitting on a big lectern at the back of the room.

Ulvama was more concerned with the books on shelves. She read the spines as she passed.

 

Tales of Adventure and Woe, Issue #8887. 

The Seventeen Shield Kingdoms of Chandrar, a [Traveller]’s Guide. 

102 Ways to Flirt.

Dragonlords of Valor and Woe; a Chronology of the Age of Settlers to the Age of Magic’s End.

Aunt Nettle’s Insect Baking Guide.

 

The books all fascinated her. Clearly, some were historical, and some were perhaps written by local Fraerlings. However, all were rebound, Ulvama suspected, given their age. Indeed, she felt like every single damn book in the library was enchanted.

The Battle Hamster sniffed at a book and got a warning glare from her in case it thought anything was food. Revoid called to Isten.

“I was right. Looks like it’s Level 30 if you want t’get to the beach. A few Level 20s…even a Level 27 [Ranger] named Neerie never made it back. Damn. I knew one of ‘em.”

He was running his finger down the vast book, paging through it, and Ulvama saw him pull at a tab sticking out, and the book’s pages flurried and changed. She approached, and the boy piped up.

“Even if I just want to get to the sea? Level 30?”

“Yep.”

“How about…a city? One’ve the big ones.”

“Nowhere further? You just want to get to one?”

“Yeah.”

Revoid pulled at a tab, and the pages changed. He was running his finger down a list of names, Ulvama realized, which listed levels and—her skin prickled.

Deaths.

 

Gaite Leftvalker, Level 18 [Aspiring Chef]. Flight robin attacked by Giant Dragonflies on the way to Lemoste-Under-Cliffs

Umme Leftvalker, Level 26 [Mourner]. Exact class unknown. Reached Lemoste-Under-Cliffs with severe injuries. Vanished after leaving the city, destination unknown.

Gotell Dret, Level 20 [Natural Herbalist]. Perished with an antidote bound for Sutic, the Sunrock City, during war. Suspected Fraerling [Assassins].

Pladiune…

 

The older Fraerling spoke as the boy read, face not exactly grave, but not careless, either. Serious, Ulvama thought. Like little Goblins watching warriors. There was less bravado there than children who thought they were invincible. Isten understood something of death. And yet, what Revoid said was—

“Looks like anything under Level 30 in a non-combat class is risky. Fantim nor anyone else’s likely to let you go off without that. For combat? Level 20, let’s say Level 25. Only for Lemoste, though.”

He caught Ulvama’s eye and elaborated.

“Lemoste’s nearest to us. Not sure how many other cities even exist. Sutic’s long gone. You aspiring to any of it, Isten? I can look up who else made it to the waves.”

“I reckon if I get to Level 40, I can do both. Right? That’s what Zemmy ‘n Mera are doing.”

“Fair enough.”

A crooked grin. Revoid closed the book, and Ulvama finally got a glimpse of the cover. It was embroidered in gold and said:

The Log of Travellers.

She was fascinated and ran her fingers down the ancient book. When she turned to the Fraerling, Ulvama took a guess.

“You write down who left the village. And what levels they were. So…you know if it’s safe?”

He nodded.

“Nothing’s safe. But it’s good t’know. To aspire to so the little ones know what level they should try to get at. Unless they’re there, we discourage them going off. For instance, there’s only a few that ever made it beyond a few cities on foot. Even the high-level ones.”

He re-opened the book, showing Isten and Ulvama several names. One caught her eye.

 

Pladiune, Level 38 [Masterful Staff Fighter]. Made it to Lemoste with grave injuries. Set out past the city despite warnings. Fate unknown.

Zobvreca Tortuge, Level 56 [Forestwalker of Unity. First-Swordbearer of the Lemostian Tallguard]. Reached Lemoste, Yorighe, Coulvece, Oierdressql. Vanished on her way home.

 

“See that? Level 56 and she vanished in the forests. It can get ya anywhere, but even Level 30’s no safe bet on foot. You wanna go on foot?”

“I’m not stupid like Zemmy and Mera.”

The two Fraerlings discussed the matter as the Hobgoblin observed. She glanced at Isten out of the corner of her eyes and saw the boy staring at the book. Thoughtfully. With that reverence for the dead, the caution, but that strange tone of…

Possibility. He didn’t speak like Goblin children spoke or thought of the future with that grim certainty of what would come for them. He spoke as if visiting a Fraerling city were a great challenge, one he wasn’t sure he wanted to take on—but could.

As if hitting Level 40, an achievement for any Tallfolk that they might not ever reach, were something he could do. If he worked hard enough. Ulvama whispered.

“Pladiune. I know that name.”

Revoid and Isten turned suddenly, and a Fraerling who’d been sitting in the library, reading a book, stuck her head out from between the stacks.

“What, Pladiune as in a Fraerling or some other name?”

Ulvama put her fingers to her temples. She concentrated. Time rolled back for her, and she spoke, half from knowledge, half from certainty, the memories of Goblins long dead.

“Pladiune. The Fraerling who bore a needle made by the Witch of Dread Pacts and threw it into the eye of Nolom the Conqueror. A Titan warlord.”

Images flashed up from her memory, so old that they were more like fragments, the most important moments a Goblin had remembered.

 

—A kneeling figure, tall beyond belief, blood running from a closed eye in its forehead. 

—A tiny Fraerling holding a black needle, twisted with red, overhead, arguing with an incredulous array of species, [Generals] and heroes, gathered around a meeting table.

—Armies of shouting smaller folk and the Fraerling unseen, cheering in a roar of sound as a vast city burned and giant figures fled into the distance.

 

She blinked—and it was gone, only carried by the certainty. Ulvama looked up, and Revoid held a quill in his hands. The Fraerling’s eyes were gleaming.

“So he made it?”

“She. She made it and didn’t die. She killed a Titan and burned a city they had made war from. With an army of legends.”

Revoid began to scribble as Isten took excited notes on a piece of parchment. He glanced at her.

“Normally, we don’t add corrections unless it’s set in writing, but [Shamans] count. Any word on her levels? Must’ve been something if she killed a Titan.”

Ulvama closed her eyes, trying to concentrate.

“Over…Level 70? She—yes, I’m certain she was over Level 70.”

Revoid made a few notes, blew on the parchment, and added Ulvama’s name to the correction. He slapped the edge of the book and, for a second, stood there smiling as Isten danced from foot to foot.

“Level 70. Out of our village. Wait till the others hear about that. How damn big is a Titan? Bigger’n a Giant? Isten, get one of the encyclopedias out. And you, Miss Ulvama. Got any more details?”

“I…let me think.”

Another Fraerling appeared.

“Get her a seat, why dontcha, Revoid? Isten, go run and tell someone we’ve got another legend for the books! Don’t Goblins remember tons? I was just reading up on your species. Reckon she might remember someone else?”

“Someone from other villages’ Traveller’s Logs, maybe? We should get her over to them. Let’s see if ours has more, though. You got an hour?”

Ulvama hesitated, and Revoid wheedled.

“We’ve got nali-sticks Eurise dug up a month back. Goes down like a treat with some dried walnut bread and lots of tea.”

She licked her lips, and the Battle Hamster sat up.

“I think I can spare some time…”

 

——

 

Erin didn’t stay in the wheelchair long. Not even all day. Bowom appeared after they finished pushing the crystal into place and grunted when he saw it was almost completely restored to normality.

“That’s handy. We don’t have many building—”

“—Classes. I heard. I’m sorry about the mess.”

He slapped her on the back.

“Don’t worry about it! It’s not the first time the village has gotten destroyed. Won’t be the last. Just a shame no one lost a limb. I got some excellent ant cadavers I’ve been dying to slap on someone. Now, how hungry are you? Let’s get you up and eating breakfast. Doctor’s orders.”

She blinked at him. Erin gingerly put her feet on the ground and didn’t feel that woozy. Weak, yes, and her arms were still distressingly—damaged—the skin revealing inner muscles and flesh covered by the gel, but it was regrowing.

“I’m allowed to stand? Veerni said I might turn to jello if I did.”

She cast a faintly accusatory glance at the [Healer], and Bowom laughed as he slapped her on the back again.

“Oh, we always say that to patients until we’re sure. I didn’t hear a ‘splat’ when I hit you on the back, so you’re fine. Just come screaming back if your bones start bending the wrong way. Beyond that, you’re mostly okay.”

“I have a hole in this arm.”

“Yeah, don’t poke at it and try to keep the jelly on. I felt like that was obvious. Veerni, who’s got food this morning? I didn’t eat, either.”

“Uh…I think you two can get a packrat roast at the Ovenhouse? Or there’s always leftover jam’n eggs.”

Bowom made a face and turned to Erin.

“How do you feel about jam? Mango? And I think it was parakeet eggs. Or there’s hot r—”

“Eggs, please. No rat.”

He strolled towards the door, and after a moment, Erin pushed herself up. She felt lightheaded and gritted her teeth as she stood—and almost activated [Reinforced Structure], but remembered she was healing. She stumbled after Bowom, and he eyed her critically.

“Maybe get her a cane, Veerni.”

A cane helped, and Erin leaned on it as she left the cottage, legs stiff at first, feeling worrying lightheadedness, but Veerni and Bowom kept an eye on her, and she was walking after that, to her great relief. No wheelchair for her…

The dirt road of the village was still riddled with debris, and Erin wanted to stop and repair buildings, but it did actually seem like a number of Fraerlings were taking the time to redecorate—and then argue about what they were rebuilding with.

“Not another face.”

The [Wizard] and his neighbor were pointing at his home as a gaggle of Fraerlings stood around. The one with the hammers, Macnest, was protesting.

“Didn’t someone have that big skull of a python? If it’s still around, I reckon—”

“No more snakes!”

The entire group chorused, and Macnest threw up his hands.

“Mine would have been tasteful! Hey! Hey, you!”

He shouted at Erin, and she halted, trying not to look instantly guilty despite feeling it. She turned, ready to talk her way out of the problem.

“Yes? I’m sorry about—”

“What’s the latest fashion in the Tallfolk world? Architecturally?”

Erin stared at him.

“…Latest fashion? I don’t know—”

“Come on, something! Fashion in other senses! Trends?”

“Um. L-lace?”

The Fraerlings stopped, and everyone regarded each other. The [Wizard] pulled a face. Erin tried again.

“How about…scrying orbs? Um, tracksuits?”

“I don’t know what a tracksuit is, but I’m not living in apparel.”

“You lived in a helmet—”

“I can do scrying orbs. Something glass. Something…what if we got a bunch of that good sand and tried blowing it out?”

Another Fraerling with a staff drawled as she leaned on it.

“Fine by me. I’ve got enough wind spells if Ovten does the heat and holds it in place. But I’m not doing more than two tries.”

Bowom tugged Erin along as the Fraerlings all trooped off to find some sand to blow into a glass structure. They were so—capable. The same thing Ulvama had noticed became rapidly apparent to Erin.

Fraerlings could just do things. Whether it was lifting a giant beam all by themself, jumping over a house’s roof, or magically sweeping rocks and debris into a vortex and hurling it away, they all seemed way higher-level than ordinary people of Erin’s height. She knew part of that was down to the relative strength of Fraerlings, but even so.

“Have you seen Ulvama?”

“I think I saw her walking around the village. We’ll find her after breakfast. Or maybe she’s having it. Good place to start, either way. You can’t think without breakfast. It’s how you start your day. I can’t think without breakfast. Did I mention I’m hungry?”

They were headed towards two buildings in the heart of the village, one a literal brick oven belching smoke out the top where Fraerlings clearly got food from, and the other a frozen icecube that Bowom ducked into, walls emitting vapor.

It wasn’t as cold inside as Erin expected; wood floors led to a kind of waiting room where an empty counter revealed a real freezer beyond, coated with frost. There was a shimmery…barrier in the air, and Bowom vaulted the counter, dashed into the freezer area, and came out swearing and juggling a big, head-sized vat of orange jelly.

“This will do for the two of us. Where’s that bread? Veerni?”

The [Healer] appeared with a big loaf of it and a knife. It was also ridiculously big, at least if it were scaled up to Human-sized, but her stomach growled at the sight of it.

“Sorry, someone grabbed the other loaf while I was there. Something’s going on at the library.”

“We can check that out. But my patient needs eggs. Also, I need to warm up this damn jelly.”

To the Ovenhouse they went. It had an open window, and the smells of roasting meat emanated from within, good enough to make Erin almost reconsider her stance on rat. There were Fraerlings on the inside, what looked like some helpers, overseen by a [Chef], the only person with actual cooking Skills.

“Hey, can you get us two—Veerni, you want any?—three eggs. Make mine flatways with the yolk up. What do you want, Miss Erin?”

A Fraerling girl of maybe thirteen had a massive egg suspended on a platter. When she cracked it with a hammer, the contents ran out and down a metal ramp and onto a giant iron hotplate where it began to bubble and spit on the greasy surface. She threw a bunch of salt on it, and Bowom shouted.

“No pepper! Sorry.”

The young girl hollered at Erin, cheerfully adjusting a hairnet.

“What kinda egg you want?”

“Um. Scrambled?”

Veerni waved a hand as she jumped up and down.

“Scrambled for me too! And put extra pepper on mine!”

Erin watched in fascinated awe as the workers operated. There was a contraption of pulleys and levers that meant that any ingredient could be lowered down from a trap door in the ceiling. When the order was shouted out, two fat, green eggs came down, each on their own platter, and the empty eggshells went back up the pulley-system.

A young Fraerling boy of perhaps fourteen took a sledgehammer and smashed in the first egg as the Fraerling girl lifted Bowom’s fried egg with a grunt. It was ridonculously big, and she shoved it onto a big, white porcelain plate.

“Let’s carry it over there.”

There were some tables that looked oversized until you realized how big some of the dishes were. Erin helped Veerni and Bowom carry the first plate over, then the other two. She sat with a mass of scrambled eggs in front of her as Bowom sliced the bread up and cracked open the now-warm jelly jar he’d had sitting by the fire. He slathered the bread, a massive slice, took a huge bite, and screamed.

“Too hot!”

Erin took a giant bite of scrambled eggs instead. She chewed, and it was good, if a bit more gamey than a chicken egg. She chewed, swallowed, and then took another enormous bite of egg. And then another. At some point, the jelly cooled enough so that it was merely hot rather than ‘my mouth is burned’, and she found the bread crunched satisfyingly. The jam was also very pleasant—she used a tiny amount per bread while the other two Fraerlings loaded up.

How long Erin ate, she couldn’t remember, but after she was done, she realized that the entire scrambled egg, her portion of the bread, and all the mango jam was gone when Bowom scraped the bottom of the head-sized jar with some of his leftover crust and sat back.

His stomach was bloated, and so was hers…it began to shrink in real-time, and Erin didn’t feel stuffed, just temporarily full. Rather like eating Chinese food, she decided.

Bowom leapt to his feet.

“Now that was a decent breakfast! Or was it?”

He turned to Erin with the first glint of interest in his eyes, as opposed to his version of medical responsibility.

“Do Tallfolk eat better? Or are you lot back to picking berries off bushes and slurping down worms? How is the world out there?”

“It’s…not worms. But that was a pretty—it’s not that I don’t have eggs. I have tons of eggs. But I never ate them from, like, a super-cool factory place like this!”

Erin waved her hands, feeling like she’d just had a meal right out of a movie. Bowom tilted his head, and Veerni glanced at the Ovenhouse, bemused.

“What, that? It’s just a pulley-system and a fire under the plate. It’s not even that enchanted. Everyone has to take a turn making food. Except Bowom. Because he’s crazy.”

“I don’t accept pepper. And people should expect some variation in their orders! It’s healthy! How do you mean ‘super-cool factory’?”

It took Erin a bit to explain what she meant, and Bowom looked faintly disappointed at the answer.

“Oh, I see. It’s just a matter of scale. Eggs that you don’t have to lift over your head…quail eggs? No, even smaller. There are tons of books about Tallfolk, so that’s not interesting. Damn. I was sort of hoping you were all stuck in another dark era. No…horrific, eternal midnights? Undead hordes? An age of magic’s end?”

He seemed hopeful. Erin shook her head.

“No, it’s not that bad. I mean…the last big event was the Creler Wars. You, uh, know about them?”

Bowom’s eyes lit up.

“Crelers? No. Lay it on me! Veerni, get a writing utensil for the library. Someone’s going to ask you all about modern history anyways. I might as well start with the horrific stuff.”

He sat on the table as Erin spoke, and she noticed a few more late-morning breakfasters come over to listen. They were unapologetically interested, if not as bloodthirsty as Bowom, and the [Mad Doctor] was soon disappointed.

“Oh. Orangebugs. So they were a massive threat? Damn. I knew I’d heard the name.”

“…You call them orangebugs?”

“Well, yeah, they’re orange and glow. I think we had a debate on what to call them when we found the first nests. The records say there was a tiebreaker vote to call them Squishlerazors. I say we were robbed. They’re pretty nasty. Eurise let me tag along when he had to bust a nest up. But if they were just babies, I see what the problem was. How about—let’s see—Izril, Izril…Walled Cities?”

“They’re okay? There’s the Antinium on Izril.”

More excitement from Bowom.

“Okay, let’s go there. But how many Walled Cities left?”

“Six?”

A chorus of exclamations, none really upset, and one Fraerling sighed.

“Damn. I thought they’d keep it to a tight eight! Aren’t they building more?”

Erin didn’t even know what to say to that.

 

——

 

It was not that Fraerlings were ignorant of the outside world. When pressed, Bowom would happily admit that he’d probably heard of Crelers from the ‘cities’, who traded information with their village as frequently as once a year.

It was just that…the rest of the world was so removed from this place that Fraerlings had the cheerful lack of knowledge that Erin might have had about Balerosian politics.

It mattered and didn’t matter at all to them. Most of the kids wandered off, including Veerni, while a certain type of adult relished all the news Erin could furnish them with.

“Scrying orbs. I doubt that Fantim will allow them, but it’s fascinating. Too much potential for someone to track us, even if we work hard on it with relays and such.”

Bowom was sighing as he led Erin in search of Ulvama. The [Innkeeper] wasn’t even hobbling by this point; she felt better. Bowom’s approach to her recovery was getting her walking despite her life-and-death situation yesterday. And to feed her up.

“I think we should get you two on something fun. Eurise wants to talk, and there’s some interesting stuff here, but…what’s actually fun? Oh, the Festival of Spring Safety is in a few days. That’ll be good for you. If old Fantim doesn’t throw a fit, we can show you around the other villages. There are two more—oops, shouldn’t have said that—and each one’s got something nice. Or you could help with the village’s tasks if you’re feeling up to it. Gathering food is easiest. I doubt an [Innkeeper]’s good at prospecting.”

Erin’s head was spinning a bit. The Fraerling village was such a big community relative to its size; it seemed like the houses all had some kind of dimensional magic applied, because based on their proportions, none of them should have fit Fraerlings. But a helmet-sized home both looked too big for any regular-sized head and was even more spacious on the inside.

“Who’s Fantim? The [Mayor] guy? Should I know him or anyone else?”

Bowom frowned at the question.

“Fantim? He’s the village’s rulemaster. His word goes unless we have a really good reason. Eurise is our village’s guardian. That’s sort of like the Tallguard. He has his group that take on threats. Rojalin—she was looking for you—Zemmy, Mera, those are our two young [Brawlers], both over Level 40—they’re good to remember. I’m the highest-level [Healer] in the village, and eh, everyone else is just them.”

Erin nearly spat out some water she was sipping.

“Over Level 40? But they’re kids!”

“Eighteen.”

“Eighteen? No way!”

Bowom gave Erin a slightly amused look, as if not sure why she was so astounded.

“Well, how old are you?”

“Twenty…one? Maybe twenty-two, technically…”

“Well, there you go.”

Erin hobbled along, mouth open, until she saw the Corumdon Beetle. A spellcaster of some kind was floating as the grudging beetle heaved a rock behind it. She’d conjured magical reins, and the beetle pulled the baseline of a new home into the village. Erin stared at the flying Fraerling woman, and Bowom noticed.

“Ah. Magic’s decreased, then. Flight is always said to be one of those good benchmarks. Let’s play a game. I’m Level 46. What’s your level?”

“…55.”

He nodded happily.

“Not many Level 50s, even in our villages, but the average level of an adult is thirty-something. No, wait, I told a lie…most adults are over Level 30 is what I meant. Eurise is our Level 50+ guardian. Every Fraerling village we know has one, or tries to find one if they’ve lost theirs.”

“Wh—every one?”

Erin was used to the idea that people past Level 40 were, if not common, then you’d get a few in every major city, and nations might have dozens. But Level 50…Eurise?

That at least made sense. No wonder the Pavilion had found him of all the people it could have reached. Bowom winked at Erin.

“If I hit Level 50, and it’s well possible before I turn fifty, it’s because I’ve lived through a lot. It’s not really a goal. It changes you.”

“I know.”

Her face had closed off, and the [Innkeeper], who should have been dead, walked through the village, barely taking notice of the other sights for a moment. If Bowom had been as badly irradiated as she had been—he would have been a pile of ooze days before he’d reached this place. The [Mad Doctor] was then understanding, professional in his way, but he regarded her with a kind of authority.

More than even Erin herself, he understood a bit of what she was. So did the other Fraerlings. Erin brushed at her discolored hair. She peered at the ground, at her distorted hands, the scars from the manacles—then she heard a voice.

“Erin! What are you doing on your feet?”

Ulvama appeared at the entrance to the library. She’d actually seen Erin walking over her head via the see-through ceiling and come running out. Erin blinked. Her eyes lit up in relief, and she held up her hands.

“I have doctor’s orders! I didn’t do anything crazy in the last hour, I swear!”

She pointed at Bowom, and he beamed.

“Exactly! ‘Let patients get hurt’ is my motto. As long as I can put them back together again, we all win.”

Ulvama seized Erin gently and checked her all over. Then she picked Erin up and put her on the Battle Hamster’s back as it padded after Ulvama. Both gave Ulvama an accusatory look, and she snapped.

“No complaining!”

Erin and the hamster exchanged glances, and then it padded back into the library with Ulvama. Erin gasped as she saw the inside, and Bowom dashed over to the Traveller’s Log as he heard what had gone on.

“Level 70? We are on the map! That’s the highest-level Fraerling to leave any village around here! Wait till those bastards and their ‘Level 65 [Rogue]’ hear about this!”

He turned to Erin as he high-fived several Fraerlings.

“That’s our sister-village. They’ve held it over us for centuries. Now they’re going to eat it for generations.”

They were so insular. So…silly. And serious. Erin saw Ulvama point out Isten to her, and the boy stood in front of the logbook and peered at the name written in ancient ink, recopied over countless generations.

“I reckon I want to try and get to Level 50 if I can, Revoid. Do you think I could be a great warrior?”

Everyone turned. Erin gazed at the boy, who sounded a bit like Mrsha in that moment, proclaiming she might be a [Wizard], a [Hero], an [Alchemist]…

Revoid tousled the kid’s hair, much like Relc would do. But unlike Relc, who’d laugh and say something encouragingly bland, the older Fraerling knelt.

“It could be. We’ll get you staff lessons tomorrow, then. You know y’gotta stick with it for at least a year? You’ll break some fingers with staff lessons.”

The boy grimaced, but nodded, eyes flicking to Ulvama.

“I want to try.”

And so, in this village of Dretonamis, he would have his chance. No one said it was impossible, only difficult. No one doubted it could be done, only what the cost was.

That was what Fraerlings were like, Erin realized. A bit scary, a bit silly.

A bit familiar.

 

——

 

Talking happened after that. Proper talking, not the lighter, conversational stuff, like how many Walled Cities were left. It began when Eurise returned.

Erin hadn’t gotten a good look at him in person. She realized her image of him was purely from the [Pavilion of Secrets], so it was accurate, but it was just odd to see him in the world as opposed to that void of space.

He was wearing that same vest with spiderweb sleeves that exposed scarred arms, greying hair that had once been black, and a familiar adventurer-style belt pouch and long green leggings. When she met him, she knew he was strong.

But he didn’t seem…dangerous. He came strolling into the village while Erin and Ulvama were reading books outside the library. He was followed by Rojalin and the two young [Brawlers], Mera and Zemmy.

“Hey there. Looks like the village’s decided it’s time to rebuild. You alright? No one gave you trouble, did they? This is Rojalin—Roja—Zemmy, and Mera. There’s a few others who explore and defend our spot, but this is the lot you’ll see in our village most of the time. Except for Zemmy; he’s from another village.”

“Ellecmia.”

Zemmy explained and instantly got an elbow and a punch from the two Fraerlings beside him. Roja seized his ear.

“We just told you not to tell outsiders everything, and the first thing you say is dumb as a rock. You’re no longer allowed to speak.”

“Aw.”

He visibly wilted as Eurise rolled his eyes. He jerked a thumb at Roja.

“Don’t mind her, Miss Erin. Not everyone’s worried about you, per the se and such. It’s just being responsible.”

“And it’s on Eurise’s head if you’re the wrong sort, so I hope you’re honestly just two lost, shrunk people in need of help.”

Roja had the same vibes as Eurise; she also looked like some rugged bushwacker and even had a machete stuck in a holster at her hip. Erin nodded as she got to her feet, closing the book on older Walled Cities.

“Thank you for rescuing Ulvama. And me. I’m sorry I was…gone.”

“Eh, I reckon it’s fine so long as you’re alive. Just don’t make your Goblin friend cry any more or I’ll have to hit you when you heal up.”

Eurise grasped her arm quickly with an easy smile, and Erin glanced guiltily at Ulvama, who held her book up to hide her face. Eurise eyed the Battle Hamster, who had raised his paws and was staring hard at Eurise—and Zemmy, Roja, and Mera.

It seemed the hamster thought they were threats. It pivoted and threw a spiral hook as Eurise tried to pet him on the head. Erin saw Eurise grunt as it landed.

“That’s a battle hammie alright. Poor fella’s lost an eye. And he didn’t have a pack?”

“No, just him.”

“Maybe he lost the rest or he’s just mean. Normally, it’s a gang of the buggers. They beat down anything they can steal from. Other rodents, snakes, birds—they keep the peace pretty well.”

“So they’re literally a gang charging protection money?”

Mera and Zemmy tilted their heads, confused, but Eurise just took a moment before laughing.

“Yeah, that’s right! Money. Food, for them. This a good time to talk about what happens next?”

Erin warily nodded.

“Sure.”

She expected them to go for a walk, maybe along the wooden walls, which were three-foot-tall stakes driven into the ground well outside the village, a defense, but not much of one given how big monsters could be.

But Eurise just tilted his head and nodded.

“I think we can give you a week, maybe two without fuss. Past that, Fantim is the fellow in charge of our village. If he says you need to go, I’ll have to argue with him, and it might become a vote. After that, regardless, we can give you a pack of food, supplies, and gear and point you at a Tallfolk settlement, but they’re far. However, we can’t just send you to another Fraerling settlement, let alone a city. There are rules.”

Erin blinked. This was a lot more reasonable, nay, charitable than she expected. She chanced a glance at Ulvama and got two big thumbs up.

“That’s…fine by us. You saved my life. Honestly, anything on top of that is—if we can repay you, let us know.”

The Fraerling waved this off with a hand that also had scars on it. Bite marks? Big bite marks…but he hadn’t lost any limbs, or at least, Bowom hadn’t been doing the replacing.

“Don’t go thanking us for anything yet. Like I said, it’s against the rules to just send you to other Fraerlings, and cities all scream about protocols. Even the Tallguard. But we’ll put some feelers out, ask them if they’re willing to let you enter, or even just pass by them. Maybe they’ll say we need mindwiping potions or something silly, but best case, we’ll be allowed to ferry you via bird to them, then, from there, actually close to Tallfolk civilization.”

That was…ideal! Erin exhaled.

“Thank you. If we could do that, it’d be great.”

“I reckon it would be. Especially because there’s no chance anyone here will be able to dispel that height enchantment you’re under. All the local spellcasters took one look at it and said it was above their grade. We’ve only got a few Level 40s; nothing better.”

Her height thing. This time, Ulvama’s head came up, and Erin blinked.

“Wh—you think Fraerlings in a city could fix that? Silvenia was the one who enchanted us!”

Eurise’s eyes crinkled up at the edges as he grinned.

“I almost wish we were back in that pavilion-place, because it’s still strange thinking that the same half-Elf who drowned in the swamp’s still kicking about. So she’s high-level?”

“Yeah…”

He nodded agreeably, then jabbed his chest with a thumb.

“We’re Fraerlings. Anything she can do, a Fraerling city’s got the best chance of undoing short of Wistram itself. And I heard they weren’t doing so well of late. So…count on that. I’ll let you know what the bigshots in the cities say. Might take a bit since they love talking and we’re far-out. Can’t just send a spell, we’ve gotta find the closest Tallguard and get them to whistle it in. Anything you two need?”

Erin just gaped at Eurise. She peered at him, then Roja, then Zemmy and Mera. She couldn’t read Roja well, but the two [Brawlers] were an open book to her. They’d been whispering and shoving each other like immature children until Roja glared at them. Either they didn’t know anything or they were genuinely…

Eurise raised his brows until Erin straightened. The [Innkeeper] looked him dead in the eyes, and this time, her hazel gaze was sharp. And while her aura was suppressed, all the Fraerlings and Ulvama got the impression she was sizing Eurise up, analyzing him.

“What’s the catch?”

He blinked. Glanced at Roja. Shrugged at Erin.

“I got nothing to catch. If you mean what we want—don’t tell anyone where we are. Doubt you’ll be able to find us even if you come back searching, but if we see Tallfolk around, it’ll get nasty.”

It was a calm warning without much threat to it. Erin’s eyes narrowed.

“I mean, what do you want? I can tell you about Gnomes. I’ve met them. If you want to know about the outside world like Bowom was asking, or Ulvama’s knowledge of Goblins, we’ll tell you.”

Eurise scratched at his head. His eyes flickered, and he smiled slightly. Then, oddly, sadly.

“If you want to tell us anything, go on. It’s good to hear of the outside world now and then. Sets a fire under the young ‘uns. But no one’s going to hold you upside down and shake it out of you.”

“You don’t want anything? Even though we’re endangering your village? I know N—I know a Fraerling. You have to be worried. What about your [Mayor]? Are we going to get a potion before we go?”

Erin pressed, stepping forwards, voice heated. Eurise caught her finger as it poked at his chest. Gently, he stepped back and lifted his hands.

“We don’t want anything, Miss Erin. You came asking for help. Well, you got it. I’d have been put out if you melted in the jungle without us getting there. Never you mind if you heard Roja or someone mouthing off about ranging afield or a few houses getting damaged. Worse has happened. We don’t want anything.”

“But the danger—”

It was Roja who interjected suddenly. She tossed her head and spat to the side.

“We’re not afraid of Tallfolk. If we were, maybe it’d change our opinions, miss. We’re wary as we should be, but afraid enough to stop from doing the right thing? We’re neither that nor desperate enough to demand something of you two. What kind of cowards have you been associating with?”

She fixed Erin with a narked stare, and Eurise hid a grin with one weathered hand. Zemmy and Mera nodded.

“I’ve always wanted to fistfight a Tallfolk. Even if the big cities don’t help, Mera ‘n I will escort you and your friend anywhere you want, miss! Sounds like a better adventure than us two heading to a city on foot.”

Eurise gave them an indulgent roll of the eyes and leaned forwards towards Erin.

“You don’t have to take them. They’re our young prodigies. Likely to get themselves eaten if someone doesn’t watch them. Again.”

“I punched my way out of that snake, and I can do it again!”

Mera shouted indignantly, and Zemmy added in a sotto voce voice.

“The wrong way.”

They started shoving at each other, and Erin stood there, seeming so vaguely lost that Eurise traded a glance with Roja. It was Bowom who wandered out of the library, where he’d been definitely-not-eavesdropping, with a book and spoke.

“I think she just expects us to demand something from her. Tallfolk times are still hard, or she’s lived too much with Drakes.”

Erin said nothing as Eurise’s curious glare eyed her up and down. She was still tense, still suspicious, and didn’t know what to say. Sorry for misjudging you? She didn’t believe it. Not yet. She stood there as the silence grew longer and awkward, until someone grabbed her cheeks.

Ulvama pulled the corners of Erin’s mouth up in a smile and gave the Fraerlings a real one.

“Thank you. You’re kind. We…haven’t met many kind people for a while. The last people we met at sea were very, very bad. It was hard until we met you.”

That was all she said. Erin tried to pull away from Ulvama’s fingers, but gave them a grudging nod. Roja gazed at Erin and Ulvama and then sighed suddenly. Some of the reserve drained from her, and she gave Erin a sympathetic expression.

“So says the Goblin.”

Eurise simply nodded. He held out a hand, and after a moment, Erin shook it.

 

——

 

The Fraerlings left after that. Then it was just Erin and Ulvama.

And the Battle Hamster, but he was mostly busy stuffing crumbs of the crackers that Ulvama had been served into his mouth. Erin waited until everyone was out of sight and turned to Ulvama.

“So. Do you think they were telling the truth? I can’t read Eurise. He’s over Level 50.”

“I know.”

The [Shaman] was watching Erin. The [Innkeeper] was on her feet with a wooden cane, but she didn’t even seem to need it to stand. Already?

“Eurise promised to help me in the [Pavilion of Secrets]. I think he’s telling the truth, or he was at the time. I’m not sure about the others, but we have to believe them, I guess. I saw the beetle helping pull houses.”

“He’s being a good boy.”

“Where does he sleep?”

Ulvama pointed aimlessly at one of the houses with a huge basin that was probably for collecting water.

“I think I saw them piling leaves on top of him over there. Erin, they’re nice. And the village is very old. There was a book of Tales of Adventure and Woe. The edition was under ten thousand.”

Erin searched around for Zemmy and Mera, who were racing through the village, calling out to some Fraerlings their age.

“That’s great. I’m not feeling horrible. They kept joking that I might turn to jelly, but I haven’t asked how well I am. Can you tell how much they fixed me up? Ulvama? Ulv—”

She turned, and Ulvama’s hands were on the sides of Erin’s face. The [Shaman] put her forehead to Erin’s, and Erin jerked away.

“What? What’s going on?”

She whispered, eyes darting around, then lowering her voice, but Ulvama just leaned on Erin, hugging her.

“Erin. I don’t think they’re going to kill us in our sleep.”

“What? I don’t think so either. But if we have to—”

“They’re not going to kick us out, Erin. You heard what he said.”

“They might do something. We don’t know.”

“They would have done it last night. Or when they saw me. Erin…maybe they’re good people.”

The [Innkeeper] reached up, and the hamster gave her a warning glower, as if suspecting she was why Ulvama was falling over. She awkwardly patted Ulvama on the back.

“They—might be, but we don’t know. You don’t know, Ulvama. I’m just being cautious.”

The [Shaman] regarded Erin with her crimson gaze, her pupils, a slightly darker red, moving in her eyes.

“And I’m not? I’m the Goblin, Erin.”

“Yeah, that was what Roja said. They don’t know you. We don’t know them. They saved my life. So…”

“So maybe they’re like you. I didn’t trust your inn when I got there, Erin. Or you. But maybe they’re like that. Please, calm down.”

She grasped Erin’s arms and shook her lightly. The [Innkeeper] grew defensive.

“Calm? I am calm.”

“You smashed the village when you were dreaming. You seemed like you were ready to fight Eurise. Stop. Please? You promised me you’d stop hurting yourself and get help.”

Last night. Erin flinched a bit when she remembered that and Ulvama’s expression and words. She glanced away.

“I’m just—”

Ulvama collapsed, pulling Erin down onto the table where they sat. The Battle Hamster sniffed its way up to the table as Erin fell over, and Erin lay awkwardly against the bench.

“Ulvama. What’s going on?”

“Erin, you’re almost dead. You nearly died yesterday.”

“I can walk. Bowom said so. You saw me—”

“He’s a [Mad Doctor]. He puts lizard feet onto people, Erin. You’re not well. You admitted it. Rest.”

Erin began to object, but her head was resting on Ulvama’s lap, and her energy to get up was lower than she thought. She still protested.

“I’m fine. Really.”

The Battle Hamster hopped onto the table as Ulvama scratched behind its ears. It sighed, spat up some of the carrot it had been eating, and began to nibble at the gross, saliva-covered food. Ulvama patted the bench, and because she was all twisted up, Erin grudgingly wiggled her lower torso onto it.

“I’m fine, Ulvama. Don’t cast a [Sleep] spell on me.”

“I’m not.”

Erin stared suspiciously up at Ulvama’s face, eyes narrowed. She didn’t yawn. Her eyes just began fluttering. Ulvama patted her forehead gently and studied the village as the sun shone down and the steam puffing out of the Ovenhouse turned briefly green. Fraerlings walked on past with building tools and materials. A few wandered up, saw Erin and Ulvama, and wandered away.

“I have [Twofold Rest], you know.”

“Mm.”

That was the last thing Erin said for a while. Her breathing slowed, and she kept meaning to raise her head because she was sleeping on Ulvama’s lap and that was weird and Ulvama would probably get a dead leg. But she couldn’t open her eyes, and she kept…

Drifting…

Ulvama sat there for a while as a breeze ran past her, setting the hamster’s fur rippling and her dreadlocks moving. She sat like that until she felt the first ripple coming from beneath her. A heaviness in the air.

The scent of burning. A feeling like a blade held close to your skin…magnifying. And a presence, like a ship—no, a building. An inn coming at you with all its crushing weight. Immovable. Filled with neither burning fury nor cold ice.

Just determination unto death.

Like last night. The Battle Hamster’s fur stood on end, and it hopped away from the bench. It began to sway menacingly until Ulvama reached down and took one of Erin’s hands.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m safe. We’re all safe.”

She spoke to Erin. The frowning, unconscious [Innkeeper] and her growing aura wavered. The feeling of menace in the air faded slightly, and the library next to them stopped shaking.

Bowom and another Fraerling popped their heads out of the library, and the [Mad Doctor] lowered the book he’d been holding. He tip-toed over as Erin’s breathing grew calmer.

“I can get a Draught of Slumbers whipped up if this is a problem.”

“Maybe later. I think this is okay.”

Ulvama spoke to him, and he gazed down. Knowingly, at the scars around Erin’s neck and wrists and at Ulvama.

“Freed [Slaves]? You don’t have to say, you know.”

“No. Almost. But they never managed it.”

The [Doctor] nodded, eyes on the slumbering [Innkeeper]’s face. What she dreamed of now, neither one could say, but she no longer exuded her aura. Bowom turned to Ulvama after a few minutes.

“Being mad is fun, you know. I truly am, I suppose. It takes a bit of insanity to laugh at gushing blood from the stump of an arm and replace it with a frog’s limb. Level 50 scares me a bit. Because I wonder if I’d fall into my class or abandon it. But I’ve always thought there’s madness and then there’s evil. A person can be one, without the other. Some nights, you need to laugh as the water’s rising and unlock the basement door. But what you keep in the basement matters. If that makes sense.”

He bent over the [Innkeeper], then looked at Ulvama. The Hobgoblin was gently brushing at Erin’s hair, trying not to break the fragile follicles.

“She’s a bit familiar to my class. I can feel it. What’s her madness look like?”

The Hobgoblin stared at something she could still see.

“Burning ships. Falling skies. Impossible things. Statues and immortal moments. All to save one person.”

Bowom straightened. He nodded and smiled.

“Best let her rest, then. Sounds like she’s earned it.”

He tip-toed off, and after a while, the Battle Hamster returned to the bench. It sat down, then spat another chunk of carrot out. It held it out to Ulvama, and she shook her head. It kept nibbling, and the [Shaman] just sat there. Head tilted back to let the sun play off her skin.

After a while—

The [Innkeeper] woke up again. But she pretended, for a while, that she was still asleep. She just listened to Ulvama’s breathing, the sounds of the village, and for a thing to threaten her or Ulvama.

It never appeared. So the [Innkeeper] dozed off again.

That was how her healing began.

 

——

 

After a few days, Erin stopped falling asleep at random. She still slept the night through, as many as twelve hours, though she could get up earlier.

This was with [Twofold Rest]. But the naps stopped. Even so, Erin began to take Ulvama’s suggestions to take breaks seriously.

It was that or have the [Shaman] pull her onto her lap or lean them into the Battle Hamster with a blanket. In time, Erin began to feel more active, and she realized how tired she’d been that she thought that was ‘normal’.

It wasn’t like she wanted to keep lying around, though, despite being in recovery. So the Fraerlings put her to work, but not in the Ovenhouse as Erin had suggested. Instead, she sat, answering questions for interested Fraerlings, describing recipes and recent events at a kind of impromptu booth at one of the tables. When Erin’s voice got hoarse or no Fraerlings came over to ask questions, they had her and Ulvama braid that sticky spiderweb rope or help prepare dinner.

Not every Fraerling meal was just a massive carrot or egg. But given how much they ate, Erin found herself cutting huge cubes of meat out to marinate, rather than smaller sections. And cutting wild radishes into pieces was just funny; you were handed a big sword and had to chop the radishes up like they were firewood.

The hamster loved their cooking prep because he got to eat all the scraps like the carrot peels and extra chunks.

Was she better, by then? No, of course not.

Ulvama was watching her, day by day, and sometimes waking up in the night to make sure Erin didn’t have nightmares. Those had ceased, but sometimes, she swore the [Innkeeper] was awake as well. Listening to an odd sound in the night. Someone passing by the crystal hut.

She was suspicious of the Fraerlings, but they had asked nothing of her and Ulvama, to the point where Erin seemed to feel like she had to justify their hospitality. The [Innkeeper] wanted to do something for the Fraerlings, so she asked if she could cook something.

The [Cook] who had [Expert Cooking] was an interesting man. His name was Jossec, and he was a [Self-Sufficiency Cook], though he claimed his class was longer than that and he didn’t think of himself as a [Chef]. He was only too keen to let Erin use the village’s ingredients and an entire room in the Ovenhouse, but he warned her it would be hard.

“Let me know if we can improvise anything, but I reckon making anything halfway edible will be a challenge. I’d be delighted if I could get any Tallfolk recipes off you, miss.”

“Aw, how hard could it be?”

Erin joked as Ulvama sat at a table with the Battle Hamster. It wasn’t how she used to speak. The cadence was there, the smile, but she didn’t sound relaxed. However, Jossec just gave her an encouraging thumbs up, and the [Innkeeper] hesitated, then gave him a weak smile.

“Okay, are my assistants ready? Assistants? Hello?”

When Erin turned to eye them, both stared expectantly. Neither one had the vibe that they were interested in preparing food, only eating it. After a bit of staring, Erin turned to Jossec.

“Let’s do something simple. D’you know how to make…? Um—let’s do a cake.”

Erin elected not to do a hamburger on the principle that Fraerlings actually ate a lot of meat. But while they had breads, she hadn’t seen anything amazingly fluffy or patisserie-like.

“Eggs?”

“Partridge work?”

“S-sure. Sugar?”

“Hmm. Sugarcane? It’s a bit of a delicacy given how hard it is to find, but we dig up lots whenever someone finds it.”

Erin nodded. She didn’t want to waste ingredients; the village was replete with food, but it was all obtained with hard work from the explorers and foragers, if that made sense. Given her experiences in the wilds, Erin eyed the raw, green, bamboo-like bars of sugarcane…and wondered how the heck you were supposed to turn them into sugar.

Drying and processing, she suspected. She could use honey or syrup instead. She cracked her knuckles.

“Ow. Flour?”

“Almond, walnut, or rye? We’ve got a decent amount from the winter stores.”

“Uh—almond? Yeah, let’s do that.”

Jossec hurried out a huge jar of almond, carrying it over his head and putting it down with a grunt. Erin gave him a thumbs up as she stood around a massive mixing bowl that was actually set into the floor. She leaned on a wooden paddle.

“Milk!”

The components of a cake! Jossec emerged from the pantry with preservation spells.

“No problem! Do you want roach or aphid?”

“R—what.”

Erin turned, and Ulvama stopped smacking her lips. Jossec brought out two rather small canisters.

“How much do you need? Milking aphids is hard as hell, even the big ones. There’s a domesticated group of them in one of the other villages, though we have a bunch of raiders who keep stealing them.”

“…You don’t have milk milk? From cows?”

Jossec stared at Erin.

“What the heck’s a cow?”

She began to explain.

“Well, it’s this five-foot-tall creature that produces milk out of its udders. It weighs several thousand pounds, it’s black and white—and I get why you don’t have milk. Do you have…um…non-insect milk?”

He scratched at his head, and his worry about replicating recipes began to make sense.

“Well…I’ve heard of people milking rabbits or squirrels, but that’s a pretty odd thing to do. You’d have to, what, go up to them while they’re nursing their young and steal it? Or kill them and cut it up—not exactly easy…we could put a bounty on them for the [Hunters]? How much do you need?”

Like a cup? A cup of milk. A…Erin tried to imagine how many rabbits you’d have to kill or milk to get a cup. She hesitated.

“…I’m sure you can make a good cake without milk. How about cookies? They don’t have milk! And we can skip chocolate. We just need sugar, salt, baking soda—we can, um, improvise that? Vanilla or something for taste, egg, flour, and butt—oooooh.”

Butter. The fatty, delicious substance in so many pastries. A byproduct of churning buttermilk. It came from mammals. You know, those big creatures that Fraerlings definitely loved having around and had domesticated.

Jossec was nodding to himself, not embarrassed, but just as if he’d foreseen this.

“There’s a few books of Tallfolk recipes. Most have that issue.”

“But—how do you make food? The bread you had was good. Where’s all your fat come from? Cheese? Do you have cheese?”

“Cheese…”

The [Cook] said the word like it was something exotic and rare. He shook his head. For a long moment, the [Innkeeper] gazed at Jossec with mild horror and a kind of…sympathy and wonder. She inhaled, hesitated, and then it was gone.

The crack in the [Innkeeper]’s façade wasn’t missed by even the hamster, but the [Baker] ignored it, gesturing at a rack of rising loaves of bread behind him.

“Bread’s not bad. We can make it out of flour, and there’s rye we’ve grown, but we don’t have ‘wheat’. We had some seeds a while back, but one of the Orangebugs got into our fields one season. Sometimes, we lose non-native plants like that. Bread’s not hard. We have some yeasts that work.”

“Oh! Great! But it was, like, tasty. It had some kind of fat.”

“Probably the roachmilk. You’ve gotta work it in just right.”

Jossec patted one of the canisters of milk. Erin went pale.

“…Hamburgers!”

 

——

 

They weren’t bad. But they just didn’t hit the same. It was probably the bread; the nutty and flatter walnut bread that Erin placed a burger onto wasn’t bad, just slightly off from the product she knew.

Or maybe it was the vegetables. The Fraerlings didn’t have tomatoes. They did have leafy vegetables and could pickle them, but pickled radishes and green onions didn’t equate to the same experience.

Mostly, Erin suspected, a ground beef patty wasn’t that original. Jossec was complimentary, though, as he, Ulvama, and the Battle Hamster all munched on a burger.

The hamster spat out his meat the moment he realized what was in it. Ulvama picked up his burger and added it to hers.

“Told you not to eat it.”

Jossec smacked his lips.

“I can work with this. I think we’ll make a patty, oh…two-thirds as tall as we are? Put that on a big bun with a few variants in toppings and some mustard and it’ll be a hit tonight!”

He was happy. Erin was not.

“If only we had some ketchup. We can make mayonnaise, but—why do you guys have mustard but not the other two?”

“No tomatoes. How’s this mayonnaise made?”

Fortunately, Erin’s Skills had advanced enough to the point where she could name anything in a recipe, and Jossec was an amazing [Cook].

His Skill let him move around the kitchen like it was built just for him, which he needed given the vast amounts of ingredients he worked with and the size of them. A bit of mustard, an egg, salt, oil from the dead pack rat, and a bit of lemon juice, and he was nodding.

“Not bad at all!”

The Battle Hamster was licking it suspiciously, clearly worried this was another meat-based dish. Ulvama slathered more onto her second burger. Erin was still upset.

“Ulvama, what can I make without milk? No pizzas…is pasta going to work with non-wheat flour? It won’t taste the same. What’s my speciality?”

“Anything Imani and Calescent won’t make.”

Ulvama dodged the bit of mayonnaise Erin flicked at her. Erin pounded a fist into her hand.

“Calescent…curry! I’m a genius! How many spices do you have, Jossec?”

She turned to him with a big smile, and he frowned.

“…Six?”

Erin wavered. The [Cook] began counting on his fingers.

“Five.”

 

——

 

The problem with a Fraerling village with little trade with the outside world was that they had no global markets to draw from. So when they searched for spices, it meant they literally chopped up spicy bugs or salamanders.

They had two vegetable-based spices. One was a weak pepper. The other was a rare fish that Jossec claimed sometimes appeared in the swamps. Erin asked how likely it was they’d get more. She was told they’d been trying to dig a small pond to house breeds of desirable fish in between the villages for about six years now.

Without sugar, actual sugar, Erin was also unable to make many dishes. Jossec knew how to process the sugarcane into sugar; he just didn’t always bother because Fraerlings were happy to eat it raw. He promised he’d have it processed later, but Erin slunk out of the Ovenhouse, embarrassed.

Mostly because she’d promised several people, including Bowom and Isten, who often hung out around her and Ulvama, that she’d come out with something cool to eat.

“They don’t even have potatoes, Ulvama. They don’t even have Yellats.”

“It’s okay, Erin. You’re doing the best you can.”

“Don’t be nice to me.”

Ulvama kept patting Erin’s head as the [Innkeeper] leaned against the Corumdon Beetle. He was happily noshing on a bunch of rotting heartwood. For such a fearsome beetle, he was very relaxed and seemed to have won over the Fraerlings even faster than Erin and Ulvama.

“Hey, Miss Erin. Can we get at the beetle? We’re going on a raid for food or pets, and we could use him. Nothing dangerous to his lot.”

Roja and her trainee, Midias, strolled over with a gaggle of Fraerlings as Erin leaned on the beetle. She glanced up guiltily, and Roja waved at her.

“Cooking not going well?”

“We’ll have hamburgers for dinner…but I guess I wanted to do more. Sorry.”

The [Innkeeper] forced a smile. She eyed Roja’s weapons, and Ulvama stirred as the [Innkeeper]’s eyes sharpened.

“What raid?”

Roja jerked her thumb in the vague direction of a small hill that Ulvama remembered passing on her way to the village.

“Giant Dragonflies. They’ve got a nest too close to the village, and the suckers can kill small birds. They’ll go after us if we don’t smash the nest. Wanna see? I reckon it’s not dangerous for you two. Bring the hammie too; they can take one out.”

Erin glanced at Ulvama, and the [Shaman] instantly objected.

“We don’t need to do that, Erin.”

“Why not? If they’re threats, I can at least help out.”

Ulvama had a thousand and ten reasons why this was a terrible idea. She cast around for someone to help her out, and who should be there but Bowom.

The [Mad Doctor] always seemed to be about, albeit mixing something green in a bunch of flasks. He glanced over as Ulvama waved to him frantically.

“Hey, Roja, are you killing those dragonflies? Want an experimental drug to—”

“No.”

“Just checking.”

“Erin should rest more rather than go fighting monsters, right?”

Ulvama’s glower made Roja raise her hands, and Bowom handed the vial to Midias, who held it as far away as possible as Bowom scratched his head, chin, and back with all three hands.

“No, I think it’s a good idea.”

Are you stupid? Erin was asking Midias what he was carrying to fight the dragonflies, and Ulvama punched her fist into her palm as she glared at the [Mad Doctor]. Bowom, on the other hand, just beamed.

“Exactly! Hit a few bugs, watch Roja and the Fraerlings at work—it’s not dangerous. Right, Roja?”

“Giant Dragonflies? Let me get you two some armor. I reckon they won’t do more than scratch, and they’re both over Level 30, right?”

Roja gave Ulvama a once-over, but despite her confidence, Ulvama hissed at Bowom.

“She needs rest and mind healing, not killing more things! Don’t you have a—a [Thought Healer] here?”

None had been tending to Erin, but surely there was one between the three Fraerling villages! Bowom brightened up and, to Ulvama’s horror, pointed at himself with his third arm.

“You’re looking at him. Bowom Womob. [Mad Doctor], practicing limb replacement, mind replacement, mind healing, general healing, and weird medicine.”

He held out his other hand to shake, and Ulvama looked at Roja. The [Bushwacker] shrugged.

“We don’t have a [Thought Healer], so I guess he is your best [Healer].”

It explained so much about the village, so Ulvama folded her arms with the dignity of a [Shaman].

“I don’t think she should do it.”

Bowom had blue-black hair instead of the white-and-black Erin claimed he should have, and it didn’t stick on end with hair gel, but was buzz-cut short. He tilted his head as he peered at Erin and shook his head.

“Go ahead and stop her. My medical prognosis is that it’ll be good for her. Go on. Roja will keep you safe, and it’ll be good to see.”

Good to see? Ulvama tilted her head at Bowom and raised her fist suspiciously.

“If it doesn’t help, I’m coming back and hitting you.”

He exhaled sadly.

“Hazards of the class. If other [Healers] let someone die on the slab, everyone just wails at them. When my patients wake up with a new limb, they hit me with it. You’ll see.”

Ulvama threw her hands up and stalked over to the [Innkeeper]. When she asked if Erin really wanted to go and kill a bunch of bugs, Erin did hesitate.

“If I can’t cook, I might as well help out somehow, right, Ulvama?”

She gave Ulvama that too-bright smile, and the [Shaman] glanced at Bowom. He gave her three thumbs up.

 

——

 

Eight Fraerlings plus Ulvama, Erin, and the hamster piled onto the beetle’s back. The tent-hut that they’d made was gone, and everyone rode on the beetle’s bumpy back instead. It wasn’t that bad; you didn’t feel the jostling nearly as bad as you would at Human size. That weight differential again. Like falling, gravity just mattered less at Fraerling height.

Erin knew Roja, Midias, and Veerni; no one else. They were a mix of three younger trainee-warrior types and two more veteran Fraerlings. It was clear who was allowed to go out on their own and who wasn’t.

Roja’s machete and crossbow were what Erin might call ‘Niers-grade’, a Gold-ranker’s gear like he described most Fraerlings having. One of the Fraerling adults had a greatsword larger than he was carved out of a fish’s teeth and jawbone. The younger ones had spears or swords and instructions to stay behind the higher-level adults.

“If one of the dragonflies grabs you, don’t let it bite. Use your feet to keep it off ya. We’ll shoot them if we see any of them on you. If you’re carried off, get your back to a corner and wait for us to come after.”

They were…disarmingly casual about the raid on the dragonfly nest. From context, it sounded like they were going to fight a bunch of big dragonflies that Erin vaguely pictured as the size of the Fraerlings minus the wingspan. So bigger than average, capable of nasty bites, but like fighting three dozen Face-Eater Moths, maybe.

She was ready to fight. She and Ulvama wore some armor, ironically made of layered moth-hide, and they’d given her a shortsword and Ulvama a spear. Erin was ready to breathe fire or, if it came to it, use the deadly fire that had killed the ants.

Ulvama was watching her, but Erin just sat there, waiting, eyes focused on the hill they were moving towards. The hamster watched her as well; Erin was distracted, checking the edge of the shortsword, glancing at Roja as the [Bushwacker] shoved at one of her companions telling stories of how she’d run afoul of local wildlife as a rookie.

Erin didn’t understand what was bothering her—until she realized Midias was telling jokes to the other younger Fraerlings, and they were pestering Ulvama and her for stories. She glanced at them. They were so—casual. She clutched the shortsword harder as Ulvama watched her, then pretended to relax as the [Shaman] watched her.

Keep her safe. She was regretting Ulvama coming along. Erin had to keep her—

 

——

 

A two-foot-long dragonfly tore past Ulvama as she crouched under the roaring Corumdon Beetle, who snapped at it as nearly eighty more buzzed out of a cave on the cliffside. Dead bat bones and other smaller mammals and insects littered the floor along with twenty of the Giant Dragonflies.

“Erin. Don’t be reckless!”

She grabbed the [Innkeeper], who had a ball of pink fire in one hand. Ulvama was raising a spear one of the Fraerlings had given her, but the Dragonflies mostly ignored the duo; they flew wide around the Corumdon Beetle, and Ulvama had drawn a circle of protection that mitigated their presence.

Across from them, the Battle Hamster was stomping one of the Giant Dragonflies to death. Erin was wavering. She was breathing hard. Fire was in her veins, in her lungs, and she was ready to breathe.

The air around her was tense, her aura made manifest. She was as Ulvama had feared: a precursor to how she’d killed the ants. Yet—Erin wavered. She raised her sword as a dragonfly buzzed overhead, then stared onward.

But she didn’t charge out of the shelter of the circle. Her voice was uncertain as she pulled at Ulvama’s arm and pointed with her free hand.

“I have to help them—”

“They’re doing fine!”

Erin raised her sword, gazed ahead, and stood there. She didn’t ignite black or invisible flames. She didn’t rush into the fighting. She stood, a bemused look on her face, because the Hobgoblin was entirely correct. And in a sense—Bowom was correct.

Eight Fraerlings were fighting back-to-back in the cave, and half of them were laughing like loons. Veerni jumped, swinging a pair of swords as she landed on a dragonfly’s back, severing all four of its wings and then leaping down. A dragonfly tried to scoop her up with its long legs and jerked; Roja fired a second crossbow bolt as hers reloaded in a snap and she slapped a bolt into place.

“Stop showing off for our guests, Veerni!”

“Sorry!”

She raced back as the [Bushwacker] kept firing. She just aimed and fired and kept hitting the dragonflies, usually in the head.

Some kind of [Unerring Shot] Skill. When one dragonfly got close, Roja jumped up and shouted.

“[Coconut Splitstrike]!”

It was the stupidest sounding Skill Erin had ever—Ulvama covered her eyes.

“Ooh. Gross!”

The dragonfly split in half in a shower of blue blood, and Midias wiped his face as he loosed more arrows from his bow. The warrior with the greatsword was baiting Dragonflies towards him; he stood stock still, sword raised, and every time one approached, he brought it down and smashed their heads in.

It was a bloody raid, but not on the Fraerlings’ side. They were kicking aside Giant Dragonfly corpses by the end of it, swearing and covered in insect ichor. The closest any of them had gotten to danger was when one had seized up one of the younger Fraerlings and bit and clawed at him. He had a cut on one arm; his armor had taken almost everything else.

When it was done, Erin Solstice stood there, sword barely bloodied, head scanning the ground. She looked lost as the joking Fraerlings cleaned their weapons off. Only when Roja whistled did Erin’s lost look focus on her.

“Right. We’ve got a request for as many good wings as we can carry. I say let’s grab fifty pairs and be happy with that. Midias? Find those eggs.”

Calmly, Roja wiped goop from her machete, sheathed it, and nodded to Erin and Ulvama, who were staring at the insect-carnage. Ulvama was relieved to see the baffled look on the [Innkeeper]’s face. Now she thought she understood why Bowom had vouched for them. The [Innkeeper] walked over to Roja, kicking aside an insect head like a soccer ball.

“Do you do this often?”

The other woman was taking a sip of water out of a canteen, and her voice was casual; she sounded like she’d just gone for a jog, not killed hundreds of dragonflies.

“What, this? Sure. Normally, it’s not so many; this lot flew in on migration or something. They’re not really a threat. They’re big, and if they got a kid, that’d be terrible, but if we’re wearing armor, they’ll mostly just carry you high and drop you. If it was bad, you’d get Eurise and Zemmy and Mera. This I just rounded up anyone free to deal with.”

Like Veerni. Erin pointed at the [Healer], who was de-winging dragonflies.

“Isn’t she a [Healer]?”

“Sure is. She often flies on our birds; always nice to have a [Healer] who can tend to someone in a pinch.”

But what about the killing insects? Erin closed her mouth. Then she heard Midias shouting.

“Roja! I’ve got a lot of eggs!”

 

——-

 

They were big, light-green with a semi-translucent, rind-like exterior like ugly grapes and had tiny insects germinating within. Erin was more grossed out by them than the big bugs, and Ulvama gagged a bit at the piles of them. They were piled up like a treasure trove of insectdom near a shallow pool of water formed by a drip in the cave’s walls, and there had to be thousands.

“Well, that’s too many to eat.”

Ulvama and Erin gave Roja more looks of horror as the [Bushwacker] eyed the eggs. She sighed.

“Okay, let’s take…what are we thinking? Three hundred for food? And maybe fifty. Only one in ten might make it, so we freeze the rest and raise as many as we can for mounts.”

Flying Fraerlings on dragonflies? Erin was reminded of Apista and wondered what the Fraerlings would do with Ashfire Bees. However, one of the older Fraerlings who’d been shooting down the dragonflies with [Lightning Bolts] from a staff complained.

“Roja, that’s insane. Freezing the eggs and eating the gelatin is foul.”

“It’s food. We can’t just waste them all.”

“It’s going to sit in the Frosthouse for two years, and then we’ll just chuck it out…”

“Maybe we can feed the Dragonflies on the other eggs. Come on, you know the creed. Don’t waste anything. Besides, maybe Jossec has space in the fresh warehouse for them so they’re nice and new.”

Groaning and muttering about ‘insect egg omelets not being as good as bird’, the Fraerlings trooped over and began to harvest the eggs before they eradicated the rest. Or rather…tried to.

Veerni picked up one egg gingerly, trying to transfer it to a bag of holding, and it squished. Green goo spurted from it and sprayed Midias in the face. He lowered the bag of holding he was holding with an accusatory glare at Veerni.

“I didn’t do it! It just popped! It must be a bad egg. Sorry.”

She protested. There was an oath to the side, and Roja stumbled back, covered in green goop and a dying Dragonfly nymph, as yet unformed.

“These damn things are as fragile as—argh! I thought they were supposed to be tough! You can bounce roach eggs off a wall!”

The other Fraerlings tried to lift the eggs up, and most were so fragile, they ruptured even when being picked up. Midias shook his head.

“Must be the water or they’re nearer to hatching than we thought. Can we leave ‘em, Roja?”

“We might have to. But then someone’s got to troop out here and check on them to raise the buggers…and I was told they live in water. So an [Insect Tamer] has to camp out here while they grow up—argh. Anyone got a levitation spell? Kamka. Does that staff have…?”

Unfortunately, this Fraerling group wasn’t magically gifted. Roja groaned.

“Okay. We have to call in for someone from the village to levitate this lot into our bags of holding…stop groaning. It’ll only take forty-five more minutes. I want a volunteer to run back.”

“Can I ride the beetle?”

Veerni held up a hand. But at this point, Erin interjected. Ulvama was queasily poking at a dead nymph and looked sick, but Erin held her hands out.

“What if we had a magical expert right…here!”

Everyone turned to Ulvama, and Roja’s face brightened up. Ulvama coughed.

“Erin. I can’t do levitation.”

“What…no levitation? But all [Mages] can do that.”

The [Shaman] looked defensive and embarrassed and folded her arms.

“That’s [Mage] magic. [Shaman] magic is different. I could paint on the eggs to make them tougher, maybe, if I had enough colors. Or make them hatch early…or cast [Barkskin] on them, but only one by one.”

“Not good to mess with magic like that anyways. Messes up unborn creatures or makes weird variants. And I don’t fancy having extra-tough Giant Dragonflies flying about if we make a mistake. It’s okay.”

Roja turned away, and Erin whispered to Ulvama, cheeks pink.

“Sorry. I thought—”

Ulvama didn’t seem that embarrassed and waved it off. Then she gave Erin another look.

“Well, we have one more spellcaster who might be able to do something, actually. Who’s closer to a [Mage] than me.”

Erin gave her a wide-eyed look.

“Who?”

The [Shaman] waited. After a moment, she moved her finger in a circle around Erin’s face. The [Innkeeper], who also happened to be a [Witch], opened her mouth.

“Wait. Me? But I don’t…I mean, I haven’t been casting…”

The Fraerlings turned from playing a variant of rock-paper-scissors to see who had to run back. In the background, the Corumdon Beetle was chewing on dead dragonflies. Roja raised her eyebrows, and Erin got flustered.

“I mean…but I—”

Ulvama gently poked Erin.

“Are you a [Witch] or not?”

The [Innkeeper] hesitated, mouth open, and for a second, her eyes lit up. Then they filled with doubt. She stared at the eggs, then rolled up her sleeves. She strode over to the eggs—then hurried back.

“Just so you know, that was a really cool Harry Potter quote that I wish you’d said in an awesome moment.”

Ulvama opened her mouth, pondered what in the world Erin had said, then just shooed her away.

 

——

 

After a few minutes of chanting spells from other movies to get the eggs to lift up, Erin had to beckon Ulvama over and shyly confess she didn’t know how to do it.

“Didn’t you learn from the greatest [Witches] ever to die?”

Ulvama gave Erin a frown, and the [Innkeeper] scuffed on the floor.

“Well, yeah, but it was all theory. They couldn’t cast magic until the end, so they only told me how it works.”

“Ah. Didn’t you say you can levitate things, though?”

“Oh, sure. But, um…watch.”

Erin pointed at the eggs, and Ulvama saw her hat of fire appear. It appeared like the last time Ulvama had seen it, a rain of fire dripping downwards.

“That’s cool.”

One of the Fraerlings commented; they were sitting on the dead dragonflies, watching, Roja had sent Midias down to the village, so it was more a way to kill time; if Erin failed, no hard feelings.

The [Innkeeper] concentrated and described what she was doing to Ulvama.

“So the way it works is I can sort of project the magic outwards. Via my fingertips.”

“Where’s the magic coming from? Your heart? You don’t have tattoos or paint. That’s where I store it. Otherwise, it’s in my blood or heart and I pull it out my hands. Or out of the tribe.”

Erin gave Ulvama a weird look.

“Mine’s under my hat. You have it in your body? Isn’t that gross?”

The [Shaman] debated shoving Erin into an egg. But as it so happened, there was no point because the egg rose in a sudden lurch—then compressed on both sides as if invisible hands had gripped it too hard.

The egg ruptured and sprayed Erin with green guck as Ulvama leapt aside. Erin slowly wiped insect juice from her face.

“…There. See the problem?”

Ulvama saw the problem. Telekinesis was different from wholesale gravity reversal, and Erin’s version was more like invisible hands reaching out to grab the eggs. In short…no better than the Fraerlings’ hands and arguably a lot worse since Erin’s control was weaker.

“I reckon we can put a bit of leaf under the eggs and carry them out that way. Or a shovel.”

The Fraerlings were debating behind Erin, and Roja’s drawl overruled Veerni’s comment.

“Sure can. Or we can make a [Mage] do all of it. I said we need three hundred. Who wants to delicately lift a bunch of eggs into our bags?”

“Damn, a shovel would never work, Roja.”

“That’s right, Veerni.”

Erin was trying to get the goop out of her hair and groaning.

“Hey, Roja? Does the village have a bathhouse? Because I’m gonna need it!”

“No, we all bathe in a puddle!”

Erin turned back to Ulvama, a bit shamefaced, and the [Shaman] put her hands on her hips.

“Okay, that didn’t work. Can you do anything else?”

“What? Me? No…if you can’t, I can’t.”

Ulvama rolled her eyes and bent over to whisper to Erin.

“Erin. My magic is totally different from yours. [Witches] can use [Mage]-type spells. You never use your other class. Try? For me?”

Erin hesitated. She felt a surge of guilt because she really hadn’t leaned into her new class as much when she’d come back from the dead. She’d been so busy re-being an [Innkeeper]…she paced around the eggs, thinking. It wasn’t like there was a big time limit, and that helped.

Witch magic. The thing was that witch magic was very freeform in how you cast it according to her lessons. Erin also had a Skill that, in theory, doubled the potential diversity in magic.

[From Witchcraft, Sorcery Ariseth]. Sorcery was the version of [Mage]-magic that ran on willpower and focus more than memorizing spells. The synergy seemed obvious. If Erin could picture the magic and she had the juice in her hat, she should be able to cast a spell.

It was just that unlike [Mage] magic, you couldn’t conjure anything, if that made sense. No creating a tidal wave of water; you had to have some water, even a drop, to bring the rest to life.

Sympathetic magic it was called. The old [Witches] had said it was no limitation at all; have a decent number of objects on you at all times and a blade of grass could be a sword. A pair of butterfly wings real ones.

But how do I lift a bunch of fragile eggs? Erin was trying not to smell the gross goo on her and really wishing she could take a bath. She hoped Fraerlings had soap. Or shampoo? She missed Liscor’s baths most of all.

A nice, hot bath in the bathhouse would be great. Even if Erin didn’t like the open-bathing thing, let alone mixed bathing. She could never get in a tub with Ulvama; even Ryoka had been sort of weird with towels!

“…Bathtubs. Bubbles. Angry attack fishies.”

Erin recalled two things. One—the pipe that Palt had gifted her, which she’d blown bubbles out of and actually really liked. And two, her spell that was based on Goblin magic wherein she conjured a bunch of angry, glowing fishes to attack people.

She had a bunch of stagnant water. She had light…Erin’s eyes narrowed. She closed her eyes, and Ulvama looked over from where she was smearing some of the insect goo on her arms to see if it might make a good pigment.

“Hey presto!”

Erin drew from her hat, flicked her fingers, and instantly regretted her magical incantation because it sounded lame. But the pop and sudden glow in the darkness made all the Fraerlings glance up.

A glowing, prismatic bubble rose from the water, and in the center of it, there was a floating dragonfly egg. Erin’s eyes went round.

“Wh—it worked! Look! Look at that, Ulvama!”

She pointed, dancing in excitement as the egg floated away from the pool. Veerni raced over with her bag of holding.

“Great! Now just—”

Pop. The Battle Hamster poked the bubble, the spell vanished, and the egg hit the ground and splattered everyone. Erin glared at the hamster, who didn’t look as satisfied as he seemed to think he’d be, mostly because he was covered in goo.

Ulvama laughed. She cackled in delight, and Erin turned as the Goblin clapped her hands.

“Do it again! You are a [Witch]!”

Erin blinked at her, then she asked for the staff. She whirled it around in the air, and like a marching band, a dozen bubbled eggs began to float upwards and formed a line in the air.

“No popping these, hammie, or I’ll throw one at you. Hey, everyone, on your feet! Let’s get them in the bags of holding!”

Roja slapped her knee, leapt up, and the Fraerlings were holding out their bags of holding, letting the eggs drop in, where they were no longer in danger of breaking until someone tried to take them out. Erin had to concentrate; it took a lot more magic than she was used to putting out, but not nearly as much as one of her big acts of wonder.

“Ulvama! I’m doing it! I’m doing magic! See? I’m useful!”

A beaming [Shaman] walked over with four eggs tucked under each arm and slung them one by one into Roja’s bag of holding.

“Yah! You’re doing great!”

Erin’s face went slack as Ulvama went back for more eggs. The floating bubbles wobbled in the air, and several popped before she regained control of her limited magic. She watched Ulvama pick up several eggs and toss them at another Fraerling, who juggled them without them showing any signs of breaking, and then inserted them into their bag of holding.

“Wh—b—”

“[Silken Touch]. Is good spell. I have to keep casting on each egg, though.”

The [Shaman] innocently began hucking some more at Roja, and Erin opened and closed her mouth.

“You were making me use my head?”

Ulvama’s grin was purely Goblin. She ducked as an insect egg in a bubble whizzed past her head and threw one at Erin. The two only stopped an insect-egg war when Erin pulled a writhing dragonfly nymph out of her hair. But she was smiling.

 

——

 

Erin didn’t know what to make of Fraerlings in this village. They were sort of…crazy.

The entire group returned past noon, trooping into the village shouting for baths and a spellcaster to levitate the eggs out of the bags of holding. No one was hurt; the villagers weren’t even worried beyond holding their noses.

Erin felt tired from the spellcasting and oddly…relieved. She hadn’t killed anything. She’d just stood there and watched, yet she felt fine. They hadn’t needed her, but she and Ulvama had been useful. Roja rubbed at her chin with a sudden thought.

“Can you make a lotta bubbles for the baths? I reckon that’d be fun.”

Erin hesitated.

“What, are they group baths?”

Roja noticed Erin’s hesitation and nodded.

“Sure, big tub, everyone hops in—tell you what. Midias! Run and get a smaller bathtub. You two can wash off private. Thanks for the help; don’t worry about getting the eggs out of the bag of holding.”

“Are you sure? Don’t you need some of them alive?”

Erin had seen them float all the eggs in the bag of holding, and it occurred to her that it would kill them—right? But Bowom had reappeared and happily accepted a floating egg.

“Perfect! I’ll take twenty for my experiments. As to your question, no, Miss Solstice. Regular chicken eggs can fit in a bag of holding. Why, we ask? Possibly because despite being ‘alive’, the pre-birth stage of creatures does not count for the dangerous effects of bags of holding that compress and alter our bodies. Insufficient development of mana? Life energy? Who can say? Now, if I could get a budget, I’d happily put embryonic unborn children or other mammals in jars and see whether or not they survive entry into bags of holding—but people tell me that’s ‘horrific’. And a waste of time, which I will grant them.”

His monologue earned dead silence from the group, and Bowom looked around.

“No observations? No one here is fun. Enjoy your bath.”

He walked off, and Erin realized she still had insect gunk in her hair when she went to scratch it. Roja slapped her on the back and gave her a friendly smile.

“Sorry about the mess. Hope you were entertained. It was more fun for the kids to have someone to show off to. See you at dinner, eh?”

Erin nodded and kept standing there. It was odd, she realized.

She didn’t feel that useful. Which wasn’t great. But she didn’t feel—needed.

Just helpful.

She liked being helpful, didn’t she? It reminded her of Liscor. Until the first Antinium had played chess with her and she’d had adventurers in her inn and…then she’d been needed. There was an odd difference between the two.

 

——

 

Bathing was a bit awkward because the tub turned out to be just big enough to hold three people. It was still going to be cramped, especially because the first thing the Battle Hamster did was roll into the soapy, hot water and begin washing itself.

“Erin? You coming in?”

“I’ll let you go first.”

Erin sat with her back to the tub, poking at the heating runes written into the floor. After a moment, Ulvama got in and began splashing herself and arguing with the Battle Hamster.

“It’d be nice to have a tub like this, huh? Think Palt can make it? Or Pelt with Palt?”

“Yah. Is very nice. Good water, too. You sure you—stop poking me! I’ll bite you!”

She splashed the hamster and got a squeak of outrage. Erin glanced to the side and saw Ulvama covering her chest as the hamster peered at her, clearly wondering why she looked different.

Erin swiveled back the other way instantly. But she did raise a fist.

“Hey, hamster! Knock it off!”

A splash of water and soap was her reply. Erin almost got up to jump in the tub—but decided not to. She sat there until Ulvama declared she was done, then Erin hopped in after changing behind a towel. She sank low in the water until the bubbles covered her up to her chin. Ulvama dried herself off as Erin gazed at the hamster, who had now begun splashing water on the Corumdon Beetle’s sides. It didn’t seem bothered by the mess, but put up with the cleaning attempts as the hamster used a towel like a rag.

Rather like someone cleaning a giant red bus. After a while, Ulvama went over to help.

“They’re good at fighting monsters. I guess that’s how they survive.”

“Yeah. Very good. And nice.”

The [Innkeeper] nodded. Her eyes flickered, and she remembered something as she lay back in the steaming tub.

“I wish I could give them something. But they eat a lotta bugs. Bugs. Hm…why do I feel like I know recipes with bugs in them?”

“Eh, you served Ashfire Bees until it got weird because of Apista. Acid Flies? Not the right bugs…”

Erin closed her eyes and tilted her head back, loosening up the insect slime hardening her hair. She had a vision of an outraged face, pale lands…

The lands of the dead. An [Insect Chef]? Erin opened her eyes slowly.

“Oh.”

She did know some recipes. But she felt so tired at that memory. At the vision of solemn [Witches]. An army of Seamwalkers and conversations with Gnomes and Dragons…

She wished she could just go back and play another game of chess behind Khelt’s walls of sand, in safety. Or just…

The [Innkeeper] drifted off in her bath as the [Shaman] got a long-handled broom and began to scrub the beetle’s sides. She only woke up when her head dipped under the water.

 

[Witch of Remorse Level 24!]

[Spell – Magic Bubble learned!]

[Synergy Skill: Innkeeper – Convert Object: Food (Inefficient) obtained!]

 

“Whuh? Whbgh! Ghkh!”

Erin opened her eyes, inhaled a bunch of soapy water, and Ulvama ran over to fish Erin out of the bathtub. She dumped Erin onto the ground as the [Innkeeper] spat out a lungful of water, then eyed Erin critically.

“You’ve got goo all over your stomach. And behind ears. Do you even scrub? You want help?”

Erin realized she was naked and practically swan dived back into the tub. The Battle Hamster tried drinking some of the tub water and immediately spat it out.

 

——

 

That night, Erin Solstice was smiling. Fraerlings were crowding around a pair of dishes coming out of the Ovenhouse: a hamburger and a green custard.

Made of dragonfly eggs.

It was gross. Ulvama had taken one bite and then decided to eat the cup. Then asked for seconds. Erin refused to eat it, despite Jossec’s compliments. In fact, she and the Battle Hamster were the only holdouts; the entire village thought it was great.

“I can’t believe you made this and you won’t eat. Say aaaah. Aaaah. Aaaaah—”

Ulvama poked Erin’s cheek with a spoon repeatedly until the hamster slapped it onto the ground. It stomped on the food, which was the only thing it and Erin agreed on. The [Innkeeper] just shuddered. She was mixing something in a bowl with a big spoon and smiling as she talked to Roja, Jossec, and Bowom, who were hanging out at the table.

“Listen, Ulvama, I just made it like that annoying dead chef guy said. It’s good, right?”

“Very savory. Not that buggy at all except in a good way.”

Jossec was overjoyed and waving his hands around with delight, like someone witnessing a miracle in food innovation. Which to be fair—it was.

“I can’t believe you can neutralize the natural taste of insect eggs like that. All you have to do is extract part of a salivary gland in the right species, in this case one of the tree-geckos, and mix it in with a natural enzyme from a worm and it’s so edible. You should have gotten the rest from the cave, Roja.”

“I would have if I knew it’d make custard! Who’s this [Chef]? He or she was a genius.”

The Fraerlings were honestly more enthused about that than the burgers! Which Erin felt was a travesty, honestly. But then, she supposed they regarded this as opening up a world of new treats from insect eggs whereas hamburgers were just another form of meat.

She was going to prove there was more to life than buggos for supper. Erin was still gingerly churning the aphid milk in the bucket, but she was sensing it was different. There was a rind appearing on the surface, and it was thickening.

Aphid milk and roach milk didn’t do that, so Jossec’s eyes sharpened, and Erin lifted a spoon out of the bowl and eyed it critically.

“Darn, it’s like a two- or even three-to-one ratio. Can I get a bit more aphid milk, please?”

“Sure. Though if you want, we have a bunch of roach—”

“Nope!”

It wasn’t that her new [Witch] synergy Skill wouldn’t work with roach milk…it was just that Erin objected on principle. She poured in more milk and kept churning. For a bit, she thought the two milks were mixing…until at some point it all turned into a whiter, creamier liquid.

Literal cream.

Cow’s milk.

[Convert Object: Food] wasn’t an instantaneous process. Rather, you had to do something to the substance—churn it, mix it, bake it—and it would transmute in the process. It was also inefficient, as the Skill claimed; three buckets of aphid milk were going into this one batch of buttermilk.

However, Roja’s reaction as she took a bit of the butter and licked it was everything Erin wanted. She licked her lips, frowned as she tasted the sweet milk and butter—and shrugged.

“Tastes like animal fat but nicer. Is this cheese?”

“…No.”

“‘Sokay. Drink’s too fatty for me.”

“That’s because there’s butter in it. Hold on, hold on! This is for Jossec! Let me get the cheese!”

Not everything converted the same. You could turn walnut flour into wheat flour, for instance, but not flour into meat. In the same vein, Erin had tried to turn a few seeds into other plant seeds, but it hadn’t worked.

She had an apple pie, a cake, a slice of cheese—converted from a ton of edible mold, much to her dismay—and even an authentic burger she cut into tiny pieces for her audience to sample.

“So this is cheese. Mm. Oh, that is nice. I can taste the lactic acid. This is filthy, disgusting stuff.”

Bowom was far more complimentary of the cheese. Roja just scratched at her neck, then stared at a rash breaking out above her collarbone. Erin regarded it and realized Fraerlings, who hadn’t had access to milk for generations, might be a bit…lactose intolerant.

It didn’t stop the [Bushwacker] from sampling a bit more, and Jossec was very complimentary, as were other Fraerlings who came by to try the new foods and agree they had merit.

However—Erin rounded on Bowom.

“Okay, how is cheese disgusting? Are you trying to insult cheese? Apologize on behalf of cheeses everywhere!”

He cracked one eye open and studied her. Bowom answered slowly, cupping his hands beneath his chest for emphasis.

“Well, you have a bunch of liquid meant for rearing young mammals exuded from weird, bloated glands on people’s chests. We produce milk—I’m using ‘we’ here in a royal sense because I haven’t felt the urge to give myself that upgrade—and we decided that was such sound nutrition we were going to raid other animals for the same. Then someone decided the best way to eat it was letting it harden up by curdling and growing little microscopic organisms all over it. It’s like drinking exotic stomach juice—that’s what gives it the taste, you know.”

The [Innkeeper]’s mouth was open in silent horror as she tried to mentally erase everything Bowom had described about what milk and cheese was. She turned to Roja, who had decided against having another bite of the mild cheddar.

“Does he always do this?”

Multiple Fraerlings chorused the answer.

“Yes.”

 

——

 

It was a good night. Not just because Erin had levelled and seemed—relaxed and actually smiling as she showed off foods.

Ulvama saw that the [Innkeeper] was at the center of attention, showing Fraerlings cake, which they did like, and with her slight, mischievous grin. The attention rippled around her like water, and the [Shaman], trained to recognize such things, saw how Erin was impressing the village.

Just like always, the crazy [Innkeeper] struck again. Bringing foods from another part of the world into this village for the first time in possibly thousands of years. Wondrous [Witch], chaotic [Innkeeper]…

That wasn’t the good part. The good part was when a sighing Fraerling with a leaf for a hat looked down at the apple pie.

“Honestly, it’s delicious. This wheat stuff, not the apples. And you say you can grow fields of it? This isn’t Skill-food either, is it?”

She turned to Erin, and the [Innkeeper] shook her head regretfully.

“Nope. Sorry, I could make more, but it’s like a three-to-one trade on flour. I’m happy to make treats, but I bet you’d run out of food, and I can’t give you any seeds or stuff. Skill doesn’t like that. What’s your name, by the way? Erin Solstice. [Innkeeper].”

“Vrilla. [Angry Druid].”

She was in her forties and had on clothing that Ulvama realized was literally all-natural. It looked like someone had grown grass into her clothes, which were long shorts and a poncho-type shirt with tiny flowers blooming over the shoulders.

“Are you…always angry?”

Vrilla laughed with that embarrassment of someone who’d made interesting life choices when she was younger as Erin gave her a dubious look up and down.

“Not always. But—sometimes you’ve just gotta tell nature what it is, you know? I’ll put on tender gloves when I run into a silly squirrel, and kick a tick into the sunset. Little bastards. Sometimes, it rains on you, and you have to tell a cloud where to shove it, you know?”

“You’re so cool.”

The [Innkeeper] was being genuinely awestruck, but she did play it up a bit, Ulvama thought. Flattered, Vrilla laughed, then broke off a piece of the pie crust on her plate. She studied it, thoughtful.

“Well, if it’s real, er, wheat stuff, why not? [Natural Reversion]!”

Before Erin and Ulvama’s eyes, she tossed the crust up in the air, and it shimmered, turning back to a spray of white powder, and then—

A seed bonked Erin on the head. Her mouth opened as a wheat seed, fat, oblong, and golden-brown, landed in her palms. Erin gaped at it, and the [Druid] lifted it up.

“Ooh. Hey, Jossec! Got something new for our [Gardeners]!”

“B—wh—how’d you do that?”

Erin waved her arms around excitedly, and Vrilla tossed the seed through the air towards the delighted [Chef]. There it was. Ulvama’s eyes lit up as she saw Erin wearing the expression so many people wore around her.

Delight. Awe. Happiness at having the world she assumed to be one way open up in a glorious surprise.

Then outrage as the Battle Hamster launched itself into the air, grabbed the wheat seed, and tore it up in its jaws. Erin inhaled to tell the hamster off with Ulvama, and Vrilla exploded.

“You little shit! Try that again and I’ll stuff the next seed up under your tail!”

The [Druid] shot out of her seat, and the Battle Hamster raised its fists. Then it took one look at the figure whose leaf-hat snapped down to cover her face and whose clothing grew to cover her entire body like a battle suit made of nature. Vrilla was a foot tall and stomping at the hamster as it decided to run.

[Angry Druid] indeed. She had to be Level 30 and probably above Level 40 just based on that. Vrilla stomped past laughing Fraerlings as Erin wordlessly exchanged a glance with the [Shaman]. They were wearing the same expression, and Erin seemed younger for a moment. Then she slapped one thigh.

“Well—I guess we’re giving all the seeds to the villagers! No one can grow cows, though, right?”

She was only half-joking—until Bowom wandered by.

“Give me a cut of whatever cow’s made of and I can try reverse-growing it. But if they’re big as you say, I think it won’t be practical to raise them. Maybe if I shrink them…”

She had no idea if he was joking with her. The [Innkeeper]’s face went slack, then she raised her hands. She turned to Ulvama, eyes sparkling.

“I’ve got to up my game. Um…well, unless I level again tonight, maybe some [Wondrous Fare]? No, no, wait! I could make magic food or…you know what? You know what? It’s time to bring out the big guns, Ulvama.”

“What’s that?”

Ulvama at least had watched enough movies to get the expression. Erin leaned over, conspiratorially searching around.

“I’ve never really had to use it—but I don’t see a lotta drinking right now. I think…it’s time to use [Alcohol Brewing].”

She waggled her eyebrows at Ulvama. The [Shaman] raised her own eyebrows—and Roja stumped by for another slice of cake.

“We’ve got drinks. We just aren’t allowed to have too much at public gatherings.”

Erin turned, crestfallen.

“Oh, nevermind then.”

But she seemed more relaxed after that night. And the next day…

 

——

 

On the…you know, she’d lost count—the fifth? The fifth day at the village, Erin felt even better.

“Hey, I feel like I could actually run, now. Or that I want to run. My legs are all frisky!”

She was bouncing around a bit, feeling at her legs, which did indeed feel like there were electrified springs in them. Ulvama was sipping from a cup of tea blearily in the early morning.

“I don’t think you know what that word means.”

“What? Come on, I’m not pulling a Pisces. Frisky is upbeat, energetic! Playful?”

“Yeah. I use that word differently.”

Ulvama slurped down the tea, and Erin waved a hand at her. She’d been up all last night producing different foods that Vrilla could deconstruct.

The irony was that the village had no [Farmers]. Not a one. A few [Gardeners], and Vrilla herself was a [Druid], but the Fraerlings didn’t really farm that much. Farming created food sources that predators or dangerous herbivores wanted.

However, to get a free supply of bread, grapes for wine, or Yellats, all of which interested the Fraerlings, they would certainly make the attempt. Corn, potatoes—even rice, which they knew of but didn’t cultivate.

Erin had also given them poison. The devil’s drink. The bean of bounty. The…she’d given them coffee beans. Bowom had ground it up and created coffee in his laboratory, and Erin had heard hysterical cackling coming from the center of the village.

She had not as of yet gone to see what was going on, but she was mightily tempted. However, it was Ulvama that Erin was studying today as she stretched one leg, then the other out.

The Fraerlings had given them both a bunch of clothing, which beat their battered, much-repaired stuff. In Erin’s case, she was wearing some long, sky-blue explorer’s trousers—which Roja and her people used—and a long-sleeved, also blue shirt made of what was apparently aphid-wool.

Erin had yet to see the oversized aphids that produced all this, but she had felt pretty snazzy—until Ulvama had walked out demonstrating that if Erin could wear clothing in a new culture, Ulvama could acclimatize overnight.

The [Shaman] had asked for one of Vrilla’s leaf-clothing pieces, and she wore an open jacket and a crop top made of leaf, which would have been way too much skin in the jungle and left Ulvama at the mercy of mosquitos.

Since Fraerlings were too small, it wasn’t a concern, but it was something. She had her stomach bare to the rising sun and weird spider silk shorts with threads of silk that wrapped around her thighs.

Erin had tried to wear the clothing like Ulvama, but the feeling of the silk strands had distracted the heck out of her, even though they didn’t chafe or feel sticky. It looked pretty…interesting, and she kept staring at Ulvama’s legs and wondering if there was some added benefit, like making the shorts stick on, or if they just were supposed to look cool.

Ulvama was working despite her sleepiness; with one hand, she was nursing the tea. With the other, she was drawing a symbol onto her stomach with a brush and some paint.

She had begun reassembling her own magical craft, and she frowned as she drew upside-down and backwards.

“What’s that symbol do?”

“Protection.”

“So it’s like armor?”

“Yeah. One big hit and it comes off.”

“Cool, cool…how many can you put on one person at a time?”

A grunt.

“Depends on how much magic each one has. I once did forty. Real pain in butt. You want one?”

“Uh…eh…maybe if we go out adventuring. I’m not a tattoo person, y’know?”

“Neither am I.”

Erin stared pointedly at Ulvama as the Hobgoblin switched to one of her bare arms, and the Hobgoblin’s return glare made it clear that magical paint and tattoos were not the same, and if Erin tried to argue this, she would get a kick.

However, Erin noticed that Ulvama was glancing at something she was holding. Erin was having a delightful breakfast of roasted banana waffles. Which were banana-and-nut batter waffles glazed in yogurt. Jossec had made it specially for Erin as thanks for last night; it was a treat to get a special-made dish given how busy he was. He’d thrown in something—meat or something close to it—to give the waffles even more of a savory taste.

Even green onions on top! Erin was still not on sugar, so the waffles made her happy, and the bit of sweet from the banana was all she wanted. But she still wanted waffles because that was a comfort food.

As for the waffle iron to make the waffles…Erin didn’t even know how that had appeared. She’d described it to Jossec, he’d dashed off to find Macnest, the village’s armorer, and literally thirty minutes later he’d been back with a waffle iron. Fraerlings were incredible.

She was sipping from some lemon water in a huge dewdrop on a leaf; you could actually reach into it and pull out a smaller orb of liquid and sip it off your palm because of the surface tension given the relative size of it.

It was such a contrast to how they’d landed on Baleros, Erin was willing to take another hour over breakfast. But she also had the ultimate weapon to prolong this experience:

A book.

Tales of Adventure and Woe, Edition #8887. Erin had never actually read one of the books, and she had to admit, it was pretty engaging! It read like a smooth action story about a pair of Dwarves who were trying to enter the ‘Heartwood of Estiphole’, a glade in this gigantic Great Forest where they’d heard healing fruits could be found.

One of their Grandfathers was sick, and they’d tried diplomacy and begging other nations for help, but the small Human settlements and the Giants didn’t want to mess with the Dryads and other forest-spirits who’d warned the Dwarves they’d be killed if they entered.

So the Dwarves left…and came back with a hundred more Dwarves and a Dragon. They’d tried air-dropping into the forest.

A tree had slapped the Dwarves and Dragon out of the sky. Now, there were about sixty who weren’t wounded going into a bunch of tree-root caverns to avoid pursuers as the Dragon ran for it, and Erin did not think they were gonna have a good time.

Ulvama was watching Erin read out of the corner of her eye as she worked. After a moment, she coughed.

“What’s happening to the Dwarves now?”

“Forest vengeance dungeon.”

“That’s a thing?”

“Oh yeah. Roots coming out of the walls and trying to strangle you. And they regrow. This poor Dwarf in Adamantium plate armor who was talking about how tough he was just got pulled into the soil. Heeeee’s a goner. No, wait! One of the Dwarves just caused an earthquake with his hammer! They have to be above Level 50.”

Erin was getting into it. Ulvama was sitting across from her and craned her head as if to stare over the book’s edge. Erin glanced up and wondered…after a moment, Ulvama coughed.

“Maybe I can read it after you’re done?”

 

—the Treant’s face was morphing down its body as it sunk through the floor, ancient ironwood bark stained by the blood of other trespassers. Colakgizak the Bloody spoke as Marged raised his axe.

“I have planted seeds in the bones of Giants, mortal. Adamantium breaks on my bark.”

Marged’s smile was weary as he motioned the other Dwarves back.

“My Grandfather made this axe, spirit. Don’t.”

 

Ulvama nudged Erin to stop the [Innkeeper]’s leg from jiggling the table and get her attention.

“Erin. Can I read when you’re done?”

“What? Sure, sure. Why didn’t you get a book?”

“You know…they’re rare. I didn’t want to take one and get waffle on it.”

“I’m not getting waffle on anything. Plus, it’s enchanted. I think.”

The [Shaman] made a discontented noise. After a moment, she got up and began to fuss over the Battle Hamster. Ulvama still had an idea she could tame him, so as he curled up in the sun, she tried to comb out his hair. He let it happen, and Erin glanced at Ulvama out of the corner of her eye.

Why hadn’t Ulvama asked for a book? Erin had been—a bit under the weather for the last few days, so the [Shaman] had stuck by her. Maybe she didn’t want to be a bother, which checked out.

Erin felt like she’d bothered Jossec all yesterday, but he was nice. She thought he was actually just a nice [Cook]. And Roja was okay, tough and friendly like an adventurer. Bowom was crazy—Erin liked him. She wished he’d meet Saliss. She still didn’t know Eurise that well; he had been gone yesterday and apparently patrolled the other villages a lot.

An answer came to mind as Erin noticed something interesting today. Today, like the previous few days, there were Fraerlings moving about the village. Adults on their tasks, chatting, bickering amiably, all the small-village stuff you’d assume.

And children, of course. They never roamed past the wooden walls, and indeed, wore camouflaged clothing and roamed in large groups if not helping adults, as children did.

Isten was one of them, and like yesterday and the day before, they had come to peek at the outsiders.

For such a closed-off village, Erin and Ulvama had to be fascinating for children, and the adults only told them not to be a nuisance. Most of the time, Erin and Ulvama were happy to answer questions like ‘have you seen any Dragons’ or ‘how tall are the Walled Cities’ and such.

Kid questions. But Erin had noticed that Ulvama got more attention than she did.

Ulvama was green. A Goblin. Erin could have passed for another Fraerling. There wasn’t anything hostile or dangerous in their attention, just childlike fascination. But the Goblin pretended not to notice.

She engrossed herself in her work as the children crept closer. They were being bold today, possibly because they were bored or Bowom or anyone else weren’t around. Ulvama peeked at them out of the corner of her eye as one of them drew closer, a child of maybe five or six?

She was reaching for Ulvama’s pointed ears, clearly dared to by the other kids. Ulvama kept kneeling and combing at the hamster’s fur as she tapped two fingers on her cheek. Erin saw a bit of magic glimmer as Ulvama traced something one-handed.

At the last moment, before the kid could touch her ears, Ulvama spun around.

“Raaaaaaaaagh!”

Erin jumped out of her seat and nearly fell onto the street. A gigantic, fanged mouth full of teeth and bulging eyes popped out of Ulvama’s head. Like a cartoon effect where the character’s head grew.

Only, this was real, horrific, and sent the children running, screaming for their lives. Ulvama turned back to her brushing.

—After Erin’s heart had stopped hammering, she tried to read her book again. Only to see the children creeping up once more. Ulvama waited until they were inches away, then spun.

“Goblin attack! Aaaaiiieeee!”

This time, her face was a white-and-black banshee’s face, like a painting of a spirit or a halloween mask. The children ran—and now, Ulvama chased them.

She was good with kids. Go figure for a [Shaman] who had dealt with an entire tribe’s worth. Ulvama raced after the kids, growling, as her face morphed between illusions. The Fraerling kids were naturally delighted and screamed and fled.

Erin watched for a minute, grinning, until one Fraerling, Isten, whirled. He raised a fist.

“I’m not afraid of no monster! Bring it!”

He had a staff he’d been carrying on his back, and he twirled it around clumsily—only for Ulvama to seize him up.

“I’m a big monster. Now I’m eating you. Garrrgh!”

She gnawed on his head as he shouted and wiggled, and the Hobgoblin laughed, an expression of actual amusement on her normally-stoic face. Right up until she saw two Fraerling parents watching her eat their son.

Ulvama stopped playacting instantly and put the boy down. He wiggled free and ran with a shout, and the children scattered, but the Hobgoblin’s investment in her role was gone. She turned and hurried over to the hamster and began combing.

Erin—peered at all of that, perplexed. Isten’s parents had been chuckling, amused, pointing at Ulvama. They blinked at her now, as surprised as Erin. They waved Isten away from bothering the [Shaman] as she put her head down, combing the hamster who rolled over, exposing his belly. They didn’t quite get it.

The [Innkeeper] knew Goblins. She knew Ulvama. And a piece clicked in her head.

“Hey, Ulvama…what book did you want to get from the library?”

“Eh—I didn’t want any. But maybe that book on the Walled Cities?”

“Oh, the one about the seventeen Walled Cities? Maybe I’ll run over there and check it out. I could read it.”

The [Shaman]’s head rose, and she smiled.

“They let you check out more than one book?”

“What? Psht. Sure.”

Erin got up from her table, put her book aside, and jogged over to the library. She was faster than she thought on her feet, and she didn’t even have a problem; there was no librarian to ask, and a Fraerling just nodded.

“Sure, write it down in that book there so we know who’s got it. That Goblin want a book? What’s her name?”

“Ulvama. She can read this one.”

That pretty much confirmed what Erin thought. She came back and found the kids had dispersed to play tag elsewhere. Ulvama grasped the book gingerly as Erin handed it over.

“You can check out books too, if you want.”

“I know. I’m just being…polite.”

Ulvama avoided Erin’s eyes. And she didn’t notice how the [Innkeeper] sat back at the breakfast table and returned to watching her. For such a perspicacious Goblin, she could be shortsighted at times. What she failed to realize was how she looked to Erin.

 

——

 

“Alright, I am now a coffee person. I didn’t know I was, but I’m already synthesizing a new compound with it. Inject it straight into my veins, thank you. Now, what were you two interested in doing today?”

Bowom returned and asked the question he asked every day. Only, this time, Erin was more analytical.

“Oh, I dunno. You were making lanterns for the festival in a few days, right? Need any hands?”

He waved this off, as he’d done yesterday.

“Bah, that’s fine. Between coffee and all the food, you’ve earned a break. How about magic? You’re a [Witch], and you’re a [Shaman]—are those paints enough?”

He was the one who’d gotten Ulvama the paints, and she instantly smiled.

“They’re very good, thank you.”

“Maybe…we could read some spellbooks? Do they do spellbooks for [Witches] and [Shamans]?”

Erin suggested with a sidelong look at Bowom. He frowned.

“Not in the same way. Though Ulvama would know better than I. Mostly it’s in what you’ve got. I could ask all the spellcasters I know if they have anecdotes or manuscripts. Rituals. It’d be a bunch of cross-discipline stuff. We don’t have many [Witches]…I don’t think I’ve seen more than two in the Traveller’s Log. But we’ve had our share of spellcasters with shamanic focuses. How about it?”

He looked at them, and Erin turned to Ulvama.

“Ulvama? Whaddya think?”

The [Shaman] thought about it for about eight seconds, then shook her head, glancing down at her brushing.

“I don’t want to bother anyone. It’s a very generous offer, Bowom.”

“What? No, I would just be snooping through their workshops to see what they’re doing. Okay, what else then?”

The [Mad Doctor] was breezy and perhaps on a caffeine-rush, but Erin gave Ulvama a second glance. Based on what she knew of Ulvama, Erin doubted the [Shaman] wasn’t interested in that kind of text.

Ulvama’s eyes had lit up at the idea, then her face had clouded over. It was very subtle, but she was brushing the Battle Hamster less smoothly, now. If Erin recalled right…had Ulvama ever volunteered she wanted to do something, or had she just gone along with what Erin and Bowom had decided?

And why? She was all bossy and lazy in the inn.

…The inn…where she was safe. Where she was a Goblin with a sign that said ‘No Killing Goblins’. Here she was abroad, and even if the Fraerlings didn’t know her—

Bowom was cheerfully looking between Erin and Ulvama, and he seemed to pick up on something from Erin’s expression. The [Doctor] looked between the two, rubbing his three hands together.

“You sure there’s nothing you want to do?”

“It’s a nice day. I could help make lanterns. Erin?”

The [Innkeeper] had the blandest expression in the world when Ulvama glanced at her. She gave Bowom a serious stare and steepled her fingers.

“You know what I think I need, Bowom? I just realized it—we haven’t been doing our daily tradition.”

“Tradition?”

Bowom’s eyes sparkled with interest, and Ulvama’s head came up. Erin nodded, serious.

“We dance each morning. For exercise and stuff. Does your village have any cool dances we can learn? And we could use more paint. For my color practice, actually. I can drain colors, and if I had more pigments…”

“You can manipulate colors. Fascinating. Why didn’t you say so? Let’s go raid for dyes and dancers. Rojalin might be a good candidate for the latter…I’d like to see any dances native to Izril or Goblins. Though I’ve got three left feet.”

When they looked down, he laughed.

“Hah! Made you look. They’re both right. Okay, let’s find those dancers.”

Erin saw Ulvama’s face light up as the Goblin got to her feet. Then the [Innkeeper] suddenly had a mission.

 

——

 

The goal was to make Ulvama smile.

Because she could smile. She just didn’t do it often. And hadn’t she done so much, far too much, from the moment she’d run after Erin in Liscor?

Erin could still see the silently-crying Goblin in the middle of her camp in the wilds. Or the Goblin’s face when she pulled Erin aside after the latest time the [Innkeeper] had nearly died.

Now that it was clear that Ulvama wasn’t prevailing on their hosts, Erin was all over it. She was Erining harder than she’d ever Erined before.

And it was Erin pushing. She was not that gregarious of a person. Her parents, Gregori and Shauna Solstice, had always pushed their daughter to be more outgoing.

Look at me now, Mom and Dad. The funny part was that Ulvama didn’t get what Erin was doing at first.

“Hey! I’m an [Innkeeper] and a [Dancer]. Ulvama’s really good at dancing too. Do you have cool dances here?”

It was, in fact, Vrilla who they first came to for dancing instruction, on the basis that she was a [Druid]. The [Angry Druid] seemed peeved today; or maybe it was the dancing. She glowered at Bowom.

“Bowom told you I dance? Interesting. He never seemed that interested in it up till now. I suppose I know a few dances. Nothing magical, and only one Skill-based and two rituals. But I’m not going to teach those to just anyone.”

Or maybe it was Bowom. He shuffled his two right feet.

“Why don’t I just step outside while you three talk?”

Erin pointed silently at Bowom. Were he and Vrilla…?

Her glower intensified, and Erin brightly gestured to Ulvama.

“I think Ulvama’s better than me. How do we prove we’re good at dancing?”

It was such a stupid question that Vrilla eyed Ulvama, and the [Shaman] groaned. Erin gave them a genuine smile as the [Druid] snorted and let them into her house—the giant pumpkin.

It was indeed bigger on the inside, and she had an open living room that looked exactly like a good dance studio with a wide open glass window to the outside. Erin kicked her shoes off as Vrilla gave the two a once-over. She grudgingly nodded as they stretched.

“I didn’t even think to ask about dances. History, food, magic—”

Erin grinned.

“I bet most [Castaways] don’t dance.”

“Well, do you usually have music of some kind? I have some song crystals, though they decay after a year if I’ve forgotten to copy them over; that’s the one thing we get from the big cities. Also, what theme?”

Erin was realizing her leggings were maybe not the best for this, but she kicked out her legs gamely.

“Uh—I’ve been learning from Ulvama. So it’s a mix. Energetic music, and slower is good. You should see me do my ‘safety dance’.”

She began to wave her fists on either side of her body in a variant of the cha cha as Ulvama rolled her eyes. She hated the silly one-move dances that Erin kept coming up with.

—But it got Vrilla smiling. And she hadn’t seen any of the dances that Erin was doing. She fished out a song crystal and walked over to a device that would magnify the sound. It reminded Erin a lot of a gramophone or something of that era.

“So more fun, festive? Are you two a pair? I have romance too.”

“What? No!”

Erin protested instantly, and Ulvama pointed at Erin, grinning.

“I keep trying to teach her seductive dances and she doesn’t want to learn.”

“Okay—how’s this sound?”

Erin heard the first song begin to play, and it wasn’t really pop or anything close to modern music; it had that slower quality, but then someone started to play a smattering of drums as a Fraerling sang in a weirdly fast-beat croon.

Vrilla checked Erin and Ulvama’s expressions to see if they didn’t like it, but Erin was tapping her foot to the beat.

“I can get behind this. Okay—give me a sec—”

She was actually highly embarrassed, and that was without Bowom staring through one window and pointing a few interested dance-knowledgeable Fraerlings towards them.

Aside from that one time, Erin was shy about dancing in public. But Ulvama was even shyer in this moment, so Erin did her best. She began to boogie on the spot, then bump from side to side, and Vrilla, sensing the tempo that Erin was going for, upped the tempo on the crystal somehow.

Since she had long-legged pants and felt a bit less like the free-flowing dancer who could hop and skip about, Erin kicked out one leg to get a wrinkle out of the fabric, then just kept doing it, hopping on one foot. She did a twirl and twisted around, holding her waist as if she were doing a country-dance in the musical scene of a bar.

“Erin…”

Ulvama was fully embarrassed. She was glancing at the watchers through the window, but when she saw Vrilla grinning, she relaxed. And Erin turned to face her, still kicking her legs out. She swung one leg up.

“Well, if you’ve got anything better, you’d better show it, Ulvama! It’s not my fault if I’m dancing better than you!”

The [Shaman]’s eyes narrowed. Without a word, she stepped into the center of the floor and began copying Erin mid-dance. It wasn’t a hard dance, to be fair, but the two performing the exact same heel-kick and shimmies convinced Vrilla.

“You don’t have the music that dance goes with, do you? Are you meant to do it in a group? One second—like this?”

She was very nimble on her feet, and before Erin knew it, Vrilla, two kids, and Rojalin had appeared. That was how she found herself line-dancing with a bunch of Fraerlings as music blared out the open pumpkin door.

Her legs handled the exertion without a problem; if anything, Erin felt like she was faster and more coordinated at dancing than she had been before her adventures at sea! Even Ulvama seemed vaguely impressed as Erin insisted on showing the Fraerlings her [Flutter Step]. She was dancing for the children, who were delighted and begged to practice the move—but Erin’s attention was on Ulvama.

Because if Erin was a practicing student with Skills, interest, and some natural talent, Ulvama was the master. At first, she just copied Erin and dutifully kept up with the Fraerlings, who had a very wide coverage of distance in their dances. They loved crossing the ground and would even do side-shimmies across the entire dance-floor in a rapid ankle-killing shuffle that reminded Erin of a roach running.

Which was where they’d gotten a lot of their dance moves from. However…Ulvama couldn’t hide her ability forever. When she perfectly-copied Vrilla’s third trick, the [Angry Druid] turned to her.

“Alright, your turn.”

“Me? I’m just a [Shaman]…Erin, you show everyone something. Do your stupid disco.”

Ulvama put up some resistance, glancing at Erin, but the first sheen of perspiration was on the Goblin’s skin, and she was looking—happy. There wasn’t a smile yet, but her lips were twitching. Erin shook her head.

“Nope. You’re the expert. Come on, Ulvama. Everyone will love it!”

The music crystal had stopped, and Vrilla swapped it out with a new one as Ulvama thought. She had seldom looked shy, but when she stepped into the center of the floor, she gave Erin a sudden, suspicious glance as if she had realized she’d been maneuvered into this.

Checkmate. Erin gave her a thumbs up; Bowom gave her three from the window.

The next song that played had high, shrill voices in a choir, singing without words, or if they were words—nonsense, fake words. Unless Fraerlings were speaking Gnomish or something.

Vrilla fussed with the song crystal.

“It’s fast-ish. But I’m not sure if it’s good for you. Ulvama?”

The Goblin was tilting her head, and Bowom cupped his hands to the glass.

“You’re listening to experimental music still, Vrilla? This is why no one dances with you!”

She pointed, and he ran as a blade of grass uprooted itself and began to chase him. Erin exhaled. So it was sort of weird music. Even the other Fraerlings were amused. But Ulvama closed her eyes for a second—then moved.

Erin’s dances, the stuff she was most comfortable showing other people, were the dance moves you’d see in music videos—the choreographed kind of dance for an audience. Nothing personal; performative.

But she knew Ulvama had other kinds of dances up her sleeves. When the [Shaman] extended one leg and swept it around her in a wide circle, then balanced on the ball of her other foot and swung herself out, arms spread, holding the pose perfectly, the other Fraerlings stopped mocking Vrilla’s taste in music and watched.

The first dance that Ulvama performed by herself wasn’t slow. The pace of the song Vrilla had put on was fast, arguably as fast as the last one. But she held each move, swapping between them after that sense of a pause—like a statue moving through different poses.

And they did look like a ballerina’s poses, or a figure skater’s, only on the polished floor instead of a skating rink. Ulvama threw back her head, the magical paint on her arms flashing, arms extended, one arm behind her, the other held out like an invitation—but she was alone.

Eyes closed, in a world of her own. It was a dance Erin had seen her do just once before in the [Garden of Sanctuary]. It was personal, evocative to watch, but Ulvama moved through the changes of posture as if there was only one person in the world.

Like a lonely priestess or someone that should have been wearing long, flowing clothing, standing in an important site, some courtyard before a shrine, or maybe on a cliff over the sea, heralding the rising sun. The ritualistic dance continued until the song crystal ran out—and then Ulvama opened her eyes. She saw the Fraerlings watching her and was flustered.

“Is not very good. And I—”

“No, that was great!”

Erin called out and hoped the Fraerlings thought so too—a cheer from the two children and applause from the adults instantly vindicated her. Ulvama blushed.

She blushed! And Vrilla demanded to know what that was called.

“Eh, it—it called Tish Rehuvale-fesuln. It—I don’t know what the words are. Dance of Passing-Moons?”

“Can you show me again? You’re extending your limbs, and your balance—do you not have a [Dancer] class?”

“Eh, eh, [Shaman] has a bit of that in it…”

Ulvama tried to back away, but it was too late. Before she knew it, she was holding her arm out, showing Vrilla, and because she was a good teacher, she had to maneuver Vrilla’s leg into the right position. Her hands leapt away instantly, but Vrilla didn’t notice, and now Erin was trying to copy her.

“Ulvama, help! Am I doing it right?”

“No. How are you so wrong? Like this, like this!”

Ulvama had no problem correcting Erin’s deliberately-bad posture. Then it was too late. She caught herself adjusting a Fraerling boy’s posture, hesitated, and looked around as if expecting censure for a Goblin manhandling Fraerlings. But everyone was focused on the dancing, not her.

When she saw Erin wink at her, the Goblin’s eyes narrowed—but then Vrilla distracted her with a new Fraerling technique the [Shaman] had never seen before; what Erin had been waiting for slipped out.

A smile between brushing her dreadlocks out of her face. While wiping sweat off her forehead and being offered a drink. Then when she sniffed at her armpit and turned.

“Anyone got something nice smelling?”

“Here. Dead gods, Bowom didn’t get you anything? That’s just like him. He smells like alchemy all day, so I doubt he even notices.”

Vrilla handed Ulvama a ball of scented resin, and the Hobgoblin burst into a relieved smile.

“Thank you! I didn’t want to ask—and she doesn’t use any scents.”

She pointed an accusatory thumb at Erin, and the [Innkeeper] protested.

“I use shampoo on my hair! Actually, do you guys have shampoo?”

Everyone gave Ulvama and Erin such a mildly offended and horrified look that the [Witch] and [Shaman] turned to stare accusingly at someone else. Bowom beamed at them until he realized he was in trouble for something. He took off running instantly this time.

 

——

 

After two days of Erin wandering over to people and asking for things Ulvama wanted in her stead, the Goblin seemed to realize that no one was going to treat her like, well, a Goblin.

It didn’t mean she went back to grabbing anything she wanted and doing as she pleased. But she seemed to relax.

Erin had this odd feeling of being in a place where—she was the outsider. She was the guest. But there was no expectation on her aside from dancing with Ulvama or agreeing to make some paper lanterns of every color that would float into the skies with candles. That festival was coming up, and Erin wasn’t sure if they should be preparing for it—or preparing to go.

She was growing restless again, just as Ulvama seemed to lose some of her reserve. Erin was feeling at her arms and debating opening the [Pavilion of Secrets].

She hadn’t since her near-death experience. But she felt it was time to…get back to work. For lack of a better word. She didn’t know what Pavilion-Erin would say or if she owed her for Nerry or…

Erin was sitting at her and Ulvama’s usual hangout. The Goblin wasn’t with her. Or rather, Ulvama was within eyeshot; she was just painting.

The Corumdon Beetle was flaring its wings every now and then, and Ulvama had a giant brush as she drew a magical symbol on its back, scolding it every time it moved.

Below her, the Battle Hamster was staring at a series of markings, sniffing at them, which were the designs Ulvama had offered to put onto its fur.

The Corumdon Beetle instantly was a willing participant in this magical upgrade. But it was so excited it kept messing up Ulvama’s work. She was painting bright yellow and black onto its shell, as well as a white outline, giving it a vaguely skull-like design, like a poisonous bug, and it really seemed to like the upgrade to its intimidation factor.

Erin wasn’t invited because apparently ‘she couldn’t draw’ or something rude like that. She was wondering how mad Ulvama would be if she slipped away for an hour or two.

Not that Erin wanted to go behind the [Shaman]’s back, but she felt like if she told Ulvama where she was going, she’d get pushback. So she was wrestling with that as she heard a now-familiar exchange just off to her right.

“Hey, Mera, how’s it going?”

“Oh shit, Zemmy—”

A young woman was chewing on a breakfast ice cream cone, courtesy of Erin’s transmutation Skill, when she bumped into a young man. He had reddish-brown hair; she was a darker blonde. Both wore that open clothing in imitation of Eurise: bare to the shoulders and beaten up.

The moment Mera turned, Zemmy kicked her. Erin winced; Fraerlings or not, getting kicked so hard you tumbled head over heels nine times and slammed into the Ovenhouse hard enough to shake the entire building looked like it hurt.

Mera picked herself up and charged Zemmy as he spread his arms in greeting—her return punch flipped him so fast the back of his head struck the ground, and he pulled his head out of the divot, swearing.

Neither one had attempted to dodge—and neither had pulled their punches. Both seemed to be in pain, and Mera grabbed Zemmy.

“I was eating an ice cream! Did you have to hit me right then? I nearly puked!”

“You’re the one eating sweets while I have to follow Eurise around all day! We’re tracking this giant creature with bigass claws—don’t blame me!”

“You piece of Heygele!”

Mera lifted him up and turned to throw him bodily, and someone shouted from the Ovenhouse.

“I warned you two, no brawling near my kitchen or you’re getting nothing for a week!”

Zemmy stopped trying to kick Mera in the back of the head, and she paused. She put him down, patted him on the shoulder, and they backed away from the wrath of the [Cook].

It was at this point Erin, who had seen this exact event play out at least eight times already, sometimes more than once per day, interrupted.

“Hey, excuse me. Mera and Zemmy, right?”

They brightened up as they turned to her, and Mera grinned.

“Hello! Erin?”

“That’s me. What are you two doing? I mean, why do you punch each other all the time? Every time you two meet, you deck each other. Are you from rival villages or something?”

Zemmy and Mera exchanged glances. Then they grinned. They answered over one another, like siblings.

“I dunno.”

“It’s sort of a tradition.”

When the [Innkeeper] gave them a blank look, Zemmy clarified.

“I grew up in another village. Mera grew up here, but we met often. You’ll see lots of us come for the festival, but Eurise trains anyone who wants it. She ‘n me met up, and we were the same age, so we said we’d train. And I think I—”

“No, it was me—”

“One of us decided whenever we met, we should give each other our best punch! And we kept doing it.”

The [Innkeeper] looked between the two as Mera nodded. She felt at her stomach.

“Hurts like heck, though. One time, Zemmy broke three of my ribs.”

“Yeah, but you’ve knocked out…um…sixteen teeth? We lost all our baby ones real fast.”

“Baby teeth? How old were you when you started this?”

“Five?”

“Five sounds right.”

Erin’s mouth dropped open. She pointed at them.

“So every day, sometimes, or more than once per day, every time you two see each other, you punch each other as hard as you can?”

“Yup. Eurise says it’s stupid and why we level so much. We’re [Brawlers], by the way. I’m Level 40. Zemmy’s 41.”

Mera scowled at Zemmy as he kissed a bicep..

“Should have tagged along to fight the Orangebugs, Mera.”

“I had a fever so high Bowom said he could boil water on my forehead!”

“Yeah, so did I. Didn’t stop me.”

She was poking at a scar on his bicep he’d earned from that fight as Erin held up a hand.

“Uh…is that normal?”

Zemmy and Mera hesitated, and a passing Fraerling, Isten’s mother, called out.

“No, they’re just weird.”

The two Fraerlings scratched at the back of their heads, laughed, and blushed, like this was some great compliment. But Erin was well and truly astounded.

“Level 40? Really? I thought someone was pulling my leg.”

“Nah, it’s true. I reckon it’s because we’re so evenly matched. Plus, we have a vow. One day, it just popped into our heads. [Vow of Rivals: First Blow]!”

A vow? Erin’s eyebrows would have popped off her head if they could have. So their vow to always meet and hit the other…the two were nudging each other now, and they were like brother and sister.

“You ask her, Zemmy.”

“No, you. She’s from your village…”

—And they were like kids, for all their levels. Erin cleared her throat.

“Ask me what?”

“Uh—wanna fight? Eurise says you’re over Level 50, so you’re one’ve three in all the villages. The others get tired of us begging them for a match.”

“Plus, Eurise knows all our moves. We heard your friend, Ulvama, say you were tough as nails and punched out that Corumdon Beetle and an entire colony of soldier ants. And you’ve got a pet Fighting Hammy. They’re tough! Please?”

They wanted to spar with her? It was ridiculous—and the first time anyone had ever asked Erin for a sparring match since…Calruz. She lifted her hands, laughing.

“I’m not that tough. You’re [Warriors]. It wouldn’t be fun.”

Mera shoved Zemmy before he could step forwards. She slung an arm around Erin and squeezed, and Erin was reminded of Relc doing that to Klbkch. No wonder the Revalantor always looked annoyed.

“Just a bit, Miss Erin! Come on, Bowom can stitch us back up. We’re not allowed to fight the beetle, and he’s tough enough to be fun. Unless you’re scared.”

“Ha-ha. I’m not a kid, and I’m not scared. Please let go.”

Erin was getting a bit annoyed by Mera’s too-wide grin. She knew she was being annoying to provoke Erin. She didn’t shove or punch Erin, but she did circle around her.

“C’mon. I reckon I can take you.”

“I bet you can, too. I don’t want to hurt you. Or get hurt.”

Zemmy cupped his hands from the side.

“Ooh. You hear that? She thinks she can take you, Mera!”

“I reckon those are fighting words!”

Mera punched her hands together, and Erin realized she had on fingerless gloves to match her vaguely martial artist-style outfit. Erin bared her teeth as Ulvama looked up.

“I don’t want to fight you, Mera.”

“If you don’t wanna, you don’t wanna. But I reckon yer lying.”

“Oh, and why’s that?”

The Battle Hamster and beetle had gone still, and Ulvama was striding at Mera and Erin fast. Mera gave Erin a grin full of confidence—and a missing tooth. Erin was feeling that nettled, spiky feeling in her chest. Worry. How would she survive Baleros? Mera was only Level 40. Could she…?

Erin’s hand tightened into a fist as Mera replied.

“Because your aura says you want to hit me. It’s growling worse’n Eurise when he’s drunk and pissed. Come on. I’ll take it easy on y—”

[Minotaur Punch].

Mera’s eyes widened a moment before Erin hit her in the face. She had the sensation of Mera’s jaw moving backwards, and for a second, the Fraerling’s face stayed where it was. Then Erin’s punch sent her flying.

“Whoa! Mera!”

Zemmy whirled as the [Brawler] went skidding backwards. She actually caught herself on the ground, leaving a trail of dust in the earth.

“Erin! No!”

Ulvama shouted, but it was too late. Mera shook her head like a dog and grinned. Erin’s skin prickled.

[Dangersense].

“My turn.”

The young Fraerling woman launched off the ground, and Erin swore as Mera’s kick split the air. It was some kind of Skill; Erin saw an arc leave afterimages in the air and felt the wind’s passage kick up.

Mera wasn’t expecting the dodge. She saw Erin throwing a punch as Ulvama shouted—and parried the punch. Her arm swept it away, and her eyes were bright blue and filled with dazzling, sparking shards of red which intensified.

Erin threw her other fist, and an elbow hit her in the throat. She coughed, recoiling, and Mera’s next punch hit her in the face. Stomach—she was raining down punches so fast Erin’s next breath was after six blows.

 

——

 

“[Palm Deflection]. [Elbow Counter]—[Flurry of Blows]! Nice combo, Mera!”

Zemmy was running commentary. Erin went stumbling back as Ulvama raced forwards, but the Battle Hamster blocked her. Its fur was raised, and Zemmy held out an arm.

“Don’t interrupt, Miss—”

“Out of my way! She’s not ready to fight!”

Ulvama snapped at him and saw the [Brawler] recoil in surprise, then his face set stubbornly. She was about to hex him, and he was watching her and the hamster steadily when Erin’s head came up.

Ulvama whirled, worried. Erin had just eaten several low-level Skills thrown by a Level 40 [Warrior]! She was—

Unharmed? She felt at her throat and coughed again, but there wasn’t even a bruise on it. She did look mad, though.

[Aspect of the Inn: Reinforced Structure]. Mera whistled.

“See? She’s like old Zinni, Zemmy. Even if they don’t have combat classes—ulp!”

She dodged a punch and threw a counter that hit Erin in the face again, but the [Innkeeper] just began swinging, and Mera dodged back, no longer talking. Zemmy was rooting for her.

“Block, block, now punch! Use your—aw, come on!”

“You have to stop her.”

Ulvama tried to reason with Zemmy, but he just gave her a blank expression.

“Why? She won’t hurt Miss Erin. Level 50s are tough. My village has my great grandma, Zinni, and she’s just as tough in her way. Though I’ve never seen her take a punch from Mera.”

“Your friend’s the one who’ll get hurt if Erin gets mad, idiot! She’s holding back!”

His eyes lit up. Zemmy watched Mera dodging and parrying punches from the angry [Innkeeper].

“Cool. Hey, Mera, make her madder! She’s holding back!”

Ulvama gave up on this idiot. He was a fighting fool, like Garen Redfang. She ran after Erin, intent on separating her by force, but the hamster was in the way, and moreover—Ulvama was a Level 38 [Shaman].

She realized that Mera and Erin were moving way too fast for her. The [Brawler] hopped back from another punch from Erin.

“She punches hard, Zemmy. Not many Skills, though.”

“Yeah, well, you can’t dodge! She can’t dodge. She’s all punch and get punched, you know.”

Zemmy spoke in an aside to Mera as she spun on one foot. Then her next kick launched Erin overhead. Zemmy cheered.

“[Impact Kick]. Get her!”

If they were Human-sized, Ulvama guessed Erin would have gone flying fifty feet up. Even if they were Fraerlings and stronger than they should be—she saw Mera go running and heard the Skill.

“[Earthquake Fist].”

The [Innkeeper] saw it coming and tried to twist. Ulvama’s cry of horror was lost in a rumble in midair.

Erin didn’t go flying as the fist hit her, but her entire body warped, like someone shaken a hundred times in midair. She crashed down and lay there as Mera raised her fists like a prize-fighter.

“How’s that? Give up? Whoa!”

She had a second to gloat before Erin tried to headbutt her. She pushed herself into a jump so fast it caught the [Innkeeper] by surprise as much as the [Brawler]. Mera leaned away and punched twice. Erin ignored both blows and stared at her legs. Then she kicked.

It was so fast Ulvama thought it was a Skill until she remembered—Erin barely had any combat Skills.

Galas muscle. Zemmy recognized it too.

“Ooh. She’s got a special body. [Innkeepers] must be stronger than I thought.”

Or she got it from surviving all that magic, General Sserys possessing her body, and her levels. Ulvama was about to cup her hands to her mouth when Zemmy leaned over.

“Hey, if she’s gonna get hurt, I can pull Mera off. She gets excited, but I don’t want to risk her hurting your friend.”

The [Shaman] stopped. She turned her head and gave Zemmy a crimson glare.

“Erin? Get hurt?”

He gave her a startled look, then grinned instead as Ulvama shouted.

“Erin! Finish her fast.”

 

——

 

The [Innkeeper] couldn’t hit Mera. The [Brawler] would stop and block or parry punches, but she was too fast, too adept to hit.

Every time Erin thought she would connect, Mera would side-step; she was keeping her distance until she went for a punch, and even when Erin tried to trade punches, Mera would be a hair faster.

A [Warrior] versus a high-level noncombatant. Even with [Bar Fighting] and [Flowing Footwork], Erin could barely keep up with Mera as the [Brawler] circled like a wolf, darting in, backing out of punches. Worse, Mera was having fun.

“She’s really tough. I don’t think I’m even hurting her without a Skill. Hey, Zemmy, this is a ton of fun! [Axe Kick]!”

She baited Erin forwards, flipped, and brought both legs down on Erin’s crossed arms. That hurt. Erin lowered her arms and saw red. There was a cut on her arm from the sharp blow.

“Don’t hit her harder than that, Mera!”

Zemmy was warning his friend. They were treating Erin like a fun punching bag. She knew Ulvama was watching her, face anxious—and so Erin lost her temper.

Mera was waiting for Erin to come at her, hopping from foot-to-foot—she lost patience after five seconds and came in with an overhand punch to Erin’s face. It was purely bait. When she saw Erin move, she swept to one side. But Erin just opened her mouth and said:

“Wah!”

The [Loud Voice] made Mera flinch—and Erin punched twice, hard. She missed. Mera palm-deflected the first punch and sidestepped the second.

“Whoa! Nice tr—”

Erin’s knee came up and hit Mera in the groin in a blow that made Zemmy wince. The female [Brawler] made a sound and tried to recoil—Erin grabbed one arm.

[Memorize Routine]. Mera grimaced rather than scream in pain because it wasn’t Zemmy that Erin had hit in the unmentionables—she tried to pivot and throw Erin, but she couldn’t. Erin’s [Improved Balance] made her slide—the [Brawler] tore at one arm.

Erin kneed her in the crotch as hard as she could again.

“Ow. That doesn’t work on me! Stop it!”

Mera dodged a punch, trying to release Erin’s arm from her, and Erin slammed their foreheads together. Mera’s head recoiled, and she seemed outraged—the Fraerling brought her head back, and the two headbutted each other at the same time.

[Thunderclap Headbutt].

Erin’s grip loosened as she staggered, and her ears exploded for a second. Mera set her stance and curled a fist.

“Now that’s more like it. [Fist of the Broken Land: Earthtwister].”

She wound up and punched. Erin tried to dodge left—a shockwave spiraled through the air, picked her up, and tore up the ground and street until she slammed so hard into Vrilla’s pumpkin that she pulped the walls, enchantments or not. The entire house rolled as the [Druid] shouted from within.

 

——

 

“Oh shit. Sorry, Vrilla!”

Zemmy shouted when he saw the destruction to the house. He flinched; Vrilla was going to kill them. He turned to Mera to suggest they run until the [Angry Druid] calmed down, then he saw bright light and heard Mera scream.

“Aaaah! Get it off! Get it off—”

She was covered in bright pink flames. When the furious [Druid] emerged from her pumpkin, covered in vines, even she stopped. The [Innkeeper] was picking herself up, holding her side, hurt, and Mera was on fire.

Erin had breathed fire the moment Mera used her Skill. The [Brawler] rolled, trying to put the fire out, then physically tore the flames off her. When she rose, Mera was burned, panting—and she glanced up.

“What the heck was—”

“Watch out!”

Zemmy shouted, and Mera jumped right as a second plume of fire hit the ground. The [Innkeeper] was on fire. Mera’s smile grew, but she put up her fists in her first real guard.

“—Heck. Now that’s more like it.”

Vrilla shouted from above as twisting walls of vines and earth rose.

“You brats are in trouble after this! You know better than to fight in the village!”

She walled off the area to avoid more damage to houses, and Mera charged. She avoided another glob of pink fire, coming at Erin from the side in a tackle. Zemmy knew Mera’s line of thought. If the [Innkeeper] was throwing fire, better to get her off her feet. But neither one expected the [Innkeeper] to switch tactics.

Mera hit Erin in a [Long-Distance Tackle], too fast to stop. She accelerated and hit Erin like a Battle Hammie—and Erin slid backwards. She didn’t go over. Mera’s eyes went round as she strained to push Erin over.

“What the—?”

Her head came up, and Erin’s body was no longer covered in pink flames. They were—blue? Blue, like the depths of the ocean that Zemmy had seen only a few times. Like what grief looked like. Like a friend’s burial. And heavy as sorrow.

Erin punched Mera down and buried her head in the ground. Mera’s legs snapped up with the force of the blow, and Zemmy winced.

“Mera!”

The [Innkeeper] stomped where Mera’s head had been, but the [Brawler] was gone. She’d pushed herself out of the ground and vaulted high into the air. She was rattled; when she landed, she threw a punch.

“[Airburst Fist]!”

Wind blasted the [Innkeeper] as she walked forwards, but didn’t blow Erin over—or her flames out. But she was slow—Mera crouched and zig-zagged, leaping from side to side. Zemmy recognized that.

[Wild Approach]. [Catclaw Slash]!

They were Mera’s agile moves when she felt like she was in danger. She came at Erin from the side—and bounded out of the way of a wall of grey flames with a yowl. The [Innkeeper] was breathing fire again. She swept a circle around her of oddly static grey flames.

They seemed like—Zemmy tore his eyes away from the flames of mercy, and Mera snarled.

“Eat this!”

She tried to barrel through the flames and slammed into them. When the [Brawler] recoiled, dazed, a hand reached through the flames and grabbed her.

“Oh heck—”

Erin leapt out of the flames and knocked Mera down. She began punching the [Brawler] on the ground.

 

——

 

Hit her. Hit her! 

The [Innkeeper]’s flames were burning in her chest. The black flames—no. She hadn’t lost control. But she was hurt. That last punch had hurt a lot. And she wanted to end this.

Erin was punching the ground hard enough to feel it shake. She rained punches down furiously, capitalizing on her moment—

A kick tossed her back. She stumbled—saw Mera rise and wipe at a bloody nose. She had a few faint bruises. Burn marks. Part of her hair was still alight with pink fire. But she was beckoning.

“You’re the best. I thought Tallfolk couldn’t fight like us. Come on. Come on! [Moment of Might: Monkey’s Strength].”

Another big Skill. Erin saw Mera leap at her with a punch. It didn’t sound—

Monkey’s strength? In a Fraerling’s b—

Erin hit the rock walls that Vrilla had conjured and didn’t bounce off. She was embedded halfway through them.

It hurt. But she could still—she lowered her arms just in time to see Mera hurtling at her, eyes wide, grinning.

She punched Erin through the earth walls, pivoted as the [Innkeeper] turned, and hit her back through the walls again before her Skill ran out. Panting, Mera stood in the rubble of the walls as Ulvama shouted.

“Erin? Erin!”

The [Innkeeper]’s arms were raised. Her body was trembling. She felt like she was going to pass out. She lowered her arms again, and Mera exhaled.

“Cats. That didn’t work?”

She dodged as Erin spat orange flames at her, and the [Innkeeper] pivoted. She saw Mera stumble, and the [Innkeeper] felt that raging fury in her chest. The panic.

I can’t beat her. She’s Level 40, and I—

I can’t beat her down.

I’m fighting her. And she’s a Level 40 [Brawler].

She’s not killing me. 

The haze in her mind died down. It might have been Mera that was winning; Erin was willing to bet she was. But the [Brawler] looked disconcerted too; she was eying Erin up and down and still—smiling.

“This is so much fun. I’m going to level from fighting you. You’re the greatest!”

She ran at Erin, and the [Innkeeper] clipped her cheek with a punch. Erin jumped—Mera spun, aiming a kick up, and missed as she saw Erin running past her on the air. She dodged Erin’s kick coming down and tackled Erin. The moment she saw Erin open her mouth to spit more flames, she rolled away.

Laughing. It was so annoying. Mera’s teeth were bared as she swayed from foot to foot, trying to bait Erin. Her mouth wasn’t open. The [Innkeeper] realized…

She was laughing? Erin stared at Mera and threw her next punch as hard as she could. With all her strength. Mera caught it, and her arms snapped back. The second [Minotaur Punch] missed, and Mera countered Erin and hit her in the stomach.

It burned and hurt, and Erin nearly puked. But—she met the [Brawler]’s eyes and saw that dancing, competitive gaze.

“Hit me with everything you’ve got. Stop holding back.”

Erin growled. She saw Mera’s eyes widen in dismay. Erin was laughing as she kneed Mera in the groin a third time. This time, the swearing [Brawler] did hold her groin as she hopped back.

“Come on, Mera! Don’t stop! You don’t even have anything to hit!”

“Shut the hell up, Zemmy, or I’ll do that to you! It still hurts!”

Mera turned and barely dodged another hook from Erin. She threw another counter, but Erin was getting used to it, and it barely grazed her cheek. And she couldn’t stop…

 

——

 

Ulvama couldn’t believe Erin was laughing. She was charging Mera, no longer spitting fire, and Mera had stopped using her high-level Skills. They were fistfighting, throwing punches that Ulvama was pretty sure would floor her or most people.

—But the [Innkeeper] was laughing. Not hysterically, but as if she couldn’t stop. For some reason, despite Mera putting her in a headlock and then flipping to slam her on the ground, when Erin got up, she was still smiling.

She looked relieved. It flowed off her aura until she compressed it into one fist and hit Mera with it.

“No fair! No aura or I’m doing it too!”

“She doesn’t have any good aura.”

Zemmy commented to Ulvama. But he was grinning, and when Ulvama glanced at him and Mera, she saw the other [Brawler] was grinning too. Then Erin reminded Ulvama of silly Redfangs, brawling in the dirt. No—that wasn’t right.

She just looked so relaxed. Relieved, like someone who realized that she wouldn’t—couldn’t—break her opponent if she hit her as hard as she could. Like…an [Innkeeper] who didn’t have a [Garden of Sanctuary] filled with trees of magic lightning or rooms created by Archmages that could conjure fire.

No Adamantium halberds in her back pocket. No secret weapon against dead goddesses. Not the highest-level person in the room hiding her fangs behind her apron.

Just a dusty, panting [Innkeeper] in a dustup with a [Brawler]. Ulvama watched for a while as Fraerlings wandered past, complaining about the mess or commenting that, to their surprise, Erin could fight Mera equally. Eventually, Ulvama wandered away to get a drink.

“She’s going to need another bath. Silly warriors.”

She shook her head. Bowom found her and handed her a bit of mango juice in a cup. They sipped as they watched Erin fight until she and Mera were lying on the ground.

“See—I could claim this was all therapeutic and good for her and it was my idea. But I’m a [Doctor]. I didn’t authorize this. This is how Fraerling villages handle a lot of things, only it’s either fists, swords, or lightning bolts. Do Goblins have better conflict resolution?”

He glanced at Ulvama. She sighed as she watched Erin lying there, still giggling.

“Sometimes. But sometimes it’s better just to let silly people do silly things. And she’s very silly.”

“I thought you said she’s the sky falling and burning ships. And from what you’ve hinted at, she’s made the enemy of nations.”

Bowom glanced curiously at Ulvama, and her smile was fond and despairing and…she sipped on her drink and murmured.

“She is. And sometimes she’s spaghetti in front of a fireplace. A sign on a hill. Pink flames at night. A smile, even when it’s a lie. Tears for a Goblin.”

The [Mad Doctor] gazed at Ulvama, then at Erin. He nodded to himself.

“I see.”

Then he grinned along with Ulvama; Vrilla had let the fight end. Now…Mera, Zemmy, and Erin got to fix up her house.

 

——

 

Against her best wishes, Erin sort of liked Mera and Zemmy, despite how they’d met. Mostly because Mera was the first person Erin could punch without feeling guilty.

“Is this how guys do things? It’s sorta cool.”

She commented that to Ulvama, who had just watched Erin uppercut Mera hard enough to break all the teeth in someone else’s jaw. Ulvama sighed.

“No. It’s how high-level people do things.”

She watched a bit wistfully as Erin trooped back over to Zemmy and Mera to try a punch they wanted to teach her. The two Fraerlings had appeared every morning after Erin’s brawl, and they had quickly become some of the friends that Erin and Ulvama knew best in the village.

Vrilla, Bowom, Isten, Rojalin, Zemmy, Mera, and Jossec. Oh, there were others, like the [Armorer], Macnest, and his [Wizard] neighbor, Gollesume the Great. But if the two had any friends after a week…

Erin and Ulvama had moved out of the healing crystal cottage that very day and were being put up in a spare house as the rebuilding from Erin’s rampage finally completed. In fact, Ulvama went back to her job; painting a new clay hut. It was shaped like a Human head, but Ulvama was working on a mask like a scary, multi-colored butterfly that they were going to put on the face.

Macnest loved it. He was waiting with Gollesume to levitate it up and then anchor it.

“Look at the colors. I keep saying we need someone with good painting Skills in the village, but no one wants to pursue it as a class. Don’t you think it looks great? Gollesume?”

The [Wizard] was put out.

“It’s another face. I thought we agreed, no faces. Oh well, I guess I know which house is going to mysteriously get smashed the next time an animal attacks.”

Ulvama glanced up, and her face fell as she worked on the mask, tracing hypnotic, indigo lines in swirls down the moth-mask’s wings. Macnest glanced at her expression, then stomped on Gollesume’s toe.

“You touch this house and I’ll break your wand.”

The [Wizard] almost cast a spell, then noticed Ulvama’s crestfallen look and sighed loudly.

“Ow! What—oh, fine. It’s safe, it’s safe. It’s good art. I just hate how it stares at me at night, okay? Tell you what, let’s get everyone a drink. I have some Centiwine in the cellar. I’ll treat the four of you after we get this house up.”

Macnest’s eyes lit up, and Ulvama’s head came up with great interest.

“…Is that centipede wine?”

“Sure is. Mangoes and a big centipede’s head for flavor. It’s very good. Do you Tallfolk like drinks?”

Both he and Macnest were glancing around conspiratorially, and Ulvama nodded rapidly. She had enjoyed the Fraerlings’ food by and large, but no one had offered her anything to drink—and she did like her alcohol.

“Let’s have one in my house tonight.”

Macnest rubbed his hands together. Ulvama didn’t get why he was acting so clandestine about it until she made the mistake of repeating the invitation to Erin a bit too loudly.

“Wait, Gollesume’s got his Centiwine? Can we have some?”

Mera and Zemmy raced over instantly, and Gollesume groaned.

“Argh, not you two! Keep your voices down! And no, you can’t have any! I only have three vats!”

“Three vats? That’s enough for the six of us—”

“You brats aren’t having any! Shoo! Shoo before—”

The argument ceased as a figure appeared, striding through the village. Mayor Fantim.

Ulvama had seen the big, bossy Fraerling around quite a lot, but he had mostly ignored her and Erin, except to glower and pointedly ask when they were going. But he had appeared out of nowhere so fast it had to be a Skill.

“I knew it. Gollesume! I’ve warned you three times this year alone! Stop inviting your neighbors to drink at your house or I’ll confiscate all your wine myself!”

Gollesume and Macnest groaned, and Zemmy and Mera visibly sagged. Erin and Ulvama glanced at each other as the two older Fraerlings stomped over and began having a shouting match with the [Mayor]. Macnest glowered.

“It’s just a drink! With the outsiders!”

“No gatherings over three people over Level 40 with intoxicants! Especially not those two idiots!”

“Hey. He’s pointing at you, Mera.”

Fantim shook a finger in Gollesume’s face.

“Last warning before I haul all the wine off. No. Drinking. With. Others!”

Given the nature of the Fraerlings, and Gollesume’s own temperament, Ulvama expected the [Wizard] to get stroppy or even cast a spell. But the [Wizard] just yanked down his hat.

“Hmph! If I can’t have a fun drink with my neighbors, what can I do? You’re just lucky I don’t leave and go hermit!”

“You’re too lazy to go hermit. And you’d build your house a foot outside the village and cause trouble. Be told, both of you! As for you, Zemmy, Mera, if you break another house in a brawl, I’ll ban Zemmy from the village for a month!”

The scolding from the angry [Mayor] was oddly effective. Even Zemmy and Mera shuffled their feet, trying to stand behind the other. Erin just blinked at Fantim as he rounded on them.

“As for you two—”

He stared at them, clearly thinking of things they in particular had done wrong.

“—Fighting with Zemmy and Mera is banned inside the village! As is drinking! Behave yourselves or I’ll have you out of the village, Eurise’s opinion or not!”

He pointed at them, and Ulvama felt a pushing on her, a familiar one.

Some kind of authority Skill. It clearly worked on the other Fraerlings, but neither Erin nor Ulvama were part of this village. Also…they were [Shaman], [Witch], and [Innkeeper]. Authority Skills were quite weak on them to begin with.

“Listen, buddy. We’re not causing trouble.”

Erin folded her arms defiantly. Fantim gave them a dark look.

“Your presence is trouble for Fraerlings. You’ll have half the young ones dead or running off to become another entry in the Traveller’s Log within the month. I hope you do the right thing and leave.”

He spun on his heel to march off, but Erin intercepted him.

“Why can’t anyone drink with other people in this village? That’s a crazy law.”

Everyone peered at her, and Ulvama saw Fantim take a breath to shout. It was the [Shaman] who thought out loud.

“It’s probably because he’s the [Shaman] of this village, Erin. Someone has to keep laws when everyone’s high-level. Remember what happens when Relc gets drunk? Imagine Valeterisa getting drunk. Or fifty Valeterisas.”

Fantim’s eyes flickered, and his walrus mustache bristled…but he gave her a curt nod. Erin glanced at Ulvama, then eyed Gollesume.

“I’m a great drunk.”

The [Wizard] protested, not quite meeting Erin’s eyes. Zemmy whispered loudly from behind Mera.

“He tried to make his house fly one time and crashed it into the Ovenhouse. Everyone was eating cold for a week after that.”

Gollesume fired a miniature lightning bolt that zig-zagged after Zemmy as he took off running. Fantim growled.

“It’s bad enough when one person has a drink. But three ends in a brawl more often than not.”

And a bunch of drunk Fraerlings over Level 40 duking it out could probably cause as much damage as Erin. No wonder the village didn’t allow it.

Even so, Erin wore a dismayed expression as she regarded Macnest and Gollesume, who clearly wanted to have a cordial drink together.

“So you’re like the Watch Captain of your village? The Zevara of this place? And you’re always the Zevara? Wow.”

“I get the feeling I’m being insulted. Someone has to keep children from running off on an adventure and getting killed. I’m the authority who approves who can go on journeys and who can enter—unless, apparently, Eurise has a soft spot for some random Tallfolk he meets.”

No wonder Fantim didn’t like them. He faced Erin down, all button-popping outrage in a dark red overcoat, adjusting his belt as Erin wiped at a bloody nose. But the [Innkeeper]’s eyes were narrowed, and she smiled suddenly.

“I get that we’re a nuisance. But while we’re here, you might as well use us, Mayor Fantim.”

“Oh? And how? Aside from making cheese half the village is allergic to, I don’t think we need your help. We’re fine for hunters, magicians, and idiots who only know how to punch things.”

Mera and Zemmy waved, and Erin gave Fantim a grudging nod. She really wasn’t as exceptional here, for her levels or abilities. However—her eyes glinted.

“Yeah. But you all keep saying you don’t have many business owners here, don’t you?”

“Hard to run a business when no one has any money. We’re not city-Fraerlings, and there’s no one to trade with.”

Macnest nodded. He was an [Armorer], but he made his armor for whomever needed it; the entire village of Dretonamis was communal and bartered for most things. But that just made Erin’s smile wider. She jabbed a thumb at her chest.

“Well then, Mayor Fantim. You’re looking at the only Level 55 [Innkeeper] you’re ever going to see. My entire job is running an inn. Why don’t you let me serve people the alcohol and stuff?”

The other four Fraerlings’ heads snapped up. The [Mayor] blinked; his face went slack, and he stared at Erin as if he’d forgotten what [Innkeepers] did. And frankly…Fraerlings might not even know the word that well. Gollesume was actually hurrying out of his house with a dictionary and pointing at the word to his neighbor.

“Well?”

Erin’s smile widened as the [Mayor] folded his arms. He didn’t like it.

“There’ll be a fight within the hour.”

“I can handle it.”

“Yeah! She can even wrestle Mera! No one’s going to be higher-level than she is, except Eurise, Fantim!”

Zemmy and Mera egged the [Mayor] on. He glowered.

“There’s no building I’d trust to you. It’ll be full of holes in the morning—”

Gollesume and Macnest hurried over.

“We can put one up at the outskirts of the village!”

“In a heartbeat! Vrilla will help! We’ll have a team in minutes!”

They were all pleading, cajoling, and trying to pressure Fantim into it now. His glower intensified, and Erin gave him an innocent look.

“I don’t think you’ve got a good reason to refuse. Trust me. I’m an alcohol expert. I know how to serve it, when to cut people off, brew it, all that kind of stuff.”

He gave her an extremely cynical stare.

“Really. Alcohol. Name me seven kinds of drinks.”

Ulvama grinned, despite herself, as Erin floundered at the unexpected test of her abilities.

“What? Alcohol? Psh…there’s beer. Wine. Gin. Tonic…no, wait, that’s not…whiskey? Rum? Gin? How many am I up to? Vodka? A Chaldion’s Eye?”

The stare from the [Mayor] made Erin try counting on her fingers, but he spun on his heel abruptly.

“Anything you idiots break is on all of you to fix it up. If there’s as much chaos and damage as I think, no one’s having a drop in a group for the year!”

He stalked away, and a cheer went up from Zemmy and Mera. Gollesume and Macnest high-fived, and Erin puffed up.

“Hey! I’ve got a job! Oh snap. I’ve got a job, and I don’t have Drassi and Ishkr. How does he serve drinks? Uh…you pour…and you want some foam, but not a lot—Ulvama?”

Ulvama smiled and nudged Erin.

“I think he’s nicer than he looks, you know.”

The Goblin regarded Fantim’s back as he ran off to deal with another misbehaving Fraerling. Erin grimaced.

“Maybe. But he’s still the Zevara.”

“Yeah, but someone has to be.”

 

——

 

Watch Captain Zevara finally stopped sneezing at her desk and rubbed a claw across her nose holes.

“Is it spring allergies?”

She didn’t know why she kept sneezing. But she had a distinct impression someone was talking behind her tail about her. She glowered around suspiciously on basic principle.

“I have tons of fun. I’m having fun today. After work.”

Which reminded her she should do a surprise patrol of the new recruits to keep them sharp. Watch Commander Venim kept telling her to take it easier, but she had to pull her weight, even more now that he was in charge. She’d have fun tomorrow.

The Drake put her head back down and got back to work.

 

——

 

Erin running the inn that night was actually a more stressful and precarious event than she’d thought.

Ulvama was no help, aside from painting a few runes of protection on the ramshackle building that several excited Fraerlings had put up. One wall was wood; another was grown grass courtesy of Vrilla, and the other two were wall spells. There were donated chairs and tables, all poor-quality, and a mushroom table and earth stools…

The lighting came from hovering [Light] spells, and the building was near one of the walls. Erin had alcohol—three vats of Centiwine, a bunch of mango beer, some genuinely strong whiskey made of wild rye, Vrilla had some ultra-strong stuff that she claimed was made from berries—it smelled and tasted vaguely like antiseptic, or what Erin imagined that tasted like—

Fraerlings made drinks because they liked it, but due to the strict prohibition rules, they never got to have any. Big festivals or after extraordinary events were the only time they got to drink. Erin wasn’t worried about a crowd or income; it’d all be free.

No…she was actually sort of worried about her clientele, because it had occurred to her that this building would not have the benefit of being her inn. She’d wondered if it might, but it had no [Reinforced Structure] or any other features.

“I wonder if I could change this into my inn?”

She commented to Ulvama, and the [Shaman] looked up from sampling the Centiwine with a small ladle.

“I think that’s a bad idea.”

“Yeah, me too. But wouldn’t it be funny if Ishkr popped out behind the bar and wondered what the heck was going on?”

The two smiled at the idea, and Erin’s heart hurt a second. Then she pushed the idea out of her head and determinedly tied an apron to her front.

“Alright, you maggots! Come and get it!”

She shouted to the crowd of Fraerlings lined up outside. Ulvama rolled her eyes, but indulgently, as she sat back with a kernel of popcorn and a light mango beer, and the first Fraerling walked in.

“Is this a real [Innkeeper] experience? Insulted as I come in? I sort of like it.”

Gollesume headed up to the bar and made a show of checking out the menu. Fraerlings poured in after him and began rushing him to order. The [Wizard] irritably pointed his fingers around and zapped people with jolts of lightning.

“No rushing me! I helped come up with this event!”

“And you’re the worst person to order first! If it takes five minutes, I’ll hit you, Gollesume!”

“Oh really? I have a [Meteor] spell with your name on it, whomever that was!”

The [Wizard] bristled, lifting a glowing wand, and the Fraerlings tensed, reached for their own weapons, or cheered the fight on. Erin took a breath and shouted.

“Halt!”

The force of the order and volume blew Gollesume’s hat off his head. He turned to her, slightly windblown, and Erin shouted.

“Form a line here and here! If you don’t have an order, you’re going to the back of it! No fighting! Anyone who fights gets tossed out on their head!”

[Crowd Control]. [Loud Voice]. [Inn’s Aura]. Erin didn’t even think; the Skills activated naturally, and the Fraerlings lined up suddenly and respectfully. Gollesume panicked.

“Wait, I have an order! I—uh—uh—uh—one of Vrilla’s berry things and some of that cheddar, please?”

Erin had a block of cheddar that she sliced some generous flakes off of, and she put them on a flat serving platter with a big cup.

Like a ridiculously tall cup, half again as tall as Gollesume’s head. No wonder Fantim had an issue with drinks; Fraerlings could already eat a lot, and they drank like sponges. But Erin’s eyes were glittering, and she adopted a bit of Rufelt.

“I’m gonna call that an antifreeze berry. Want a splash of something on it? Ice?”

“Ice? Yes! And something sweet?”

“How about an antifreeze on the rocks with lime? And some crackers to go with that cheese? Hey, Ulvama, where are the fries?”

“I like that. That sounds good. On the rocks? Is that a Tallfolk term?”

Ulvama got up reluctantly and fished out some french fries as Erin poured some lime and ice cubes into the drink. It wasn’t that she was good at making drinks or serving them—it was that the standards were so low.

Naming drinks cool things made people like them more. Vrilla puffed up a bit, despite not knowing what ‘antifreeze’ was or the connotations around what Erin was calling her drink. The [Innkeeper] called out.

“Next! Hey, wait. Aren’t you underage?”

Zemmy gave her a worried look as he hurried forwards.

“What? Nah. I hope not. Can I get a big beer with…fruit?”

“Mango beer with a cherry do it for you? And to eat?”

“Uh…what’s that thing Ulvama’s eating?”

“Popcorn with yeast and butter!”

Fraerlings actually had a nutritional yeast they grew on bark, and Erin had instantly found a way to replicate her beloved popcorn dish in its entirety, whether Ulvama liked it or not. Zemmy brightened up.

“Oh, I’ll have that. But no yeast, please.”

“You gotta have it with yeast, buddy. Let me get you a bowl. Next!”

 

——

 

It was just a fun night. After a while, the joy of serving people wore off and it became just work, but Fraerlings didn’t drink so fast that Erin couldn’t relax. She was having a coconut water with rum as Ulvama and Vrilla loudly discussed natural clothing—leaf-clothing and grasscloth and the like—and a bunch of laughing Fraerlings argued over some issue at another table.

Mera and Zemmy were having armwrestling competitions, and Fraerlings were betting small trinkets on them. Everyone looked happy.

—Right up until the first Fraerling got mad that someone was quaffing so much liquid it was spilling onto her back. She turned and, rather than politely raising the issue or moving away, decided a kick was an appropriate solution.

And Fraerlings went flying given their relative weight. The first fight broke out as a drunk [Enchanter] hit a table of [Archers] and vomited as he landed. Erin leapt over the counter.

“Gross! Stop fighting! Stop—”

Ulvama spun around as there was a flare of light. Erin went crashing and rolling backwards, slammed into the counter, and Ulvama leaned over.

“Erin? Are you okay!?”

Her panic was answered by Erin sitting up, grabbing a stool, and charging forwards again. There was a scream—then Ulvama saw a Fraerling go out one open window and the Fraerling who’d started the fight running from an [Innkeeper] with a chair.

Ulvama relaxed. Erin went trooping over to the table, calling for a cleaning spell—and the next fight broke out within eight minutes.

The Fraerlings were excited, probably over-drinking since it was their first time to let loose in ages, and crammed together. They were all a bit like Zemmy and Mera; since most were so high-level, a kick was a lot less aggressive, and most had some kind of combat class.

However—they had no idea what an [Innkeeper] could do. Nor did even Erin, to be fair. After the third Fraerling had been ejected from a window to cool off, the [Witch] began casting spells.

A crowd of angry, glowing piranha fish chased one Fraerling off. Another trying to tap-dance on a table and kicking dishes everywhere just skipped away from Erin when she tried to order them down. The laughing [Rogue] pirouetted, leapt onto another table, and did a backflip as she swiped for her—

And slammed into the ground as the table she’d been going to land on shifted out of the way.

Ulvama saw the table jerk aside with the occupants and chairs. She blinked. Later, when a Fraerling tried to climb through a window, Ulvama saw the shutters literally move and slap the Fraerling in the face.

The building was moving by itself! She wasn’t sure if Erin even noticed some of the incidents, but it cut down on the fights even more.

Again, the Fraerlings weren’t pure brawling drunkards. After the first wave of arguments and over-excitedness had worn off, the room was just rowdy and chaotic. Erin stood at the bar, slinging drinks and laughing as she argued with drunks.

Even Mayor Fantim appeared, ordering a triple-shot of drinks mixed in a cup with fruit on the rocks—Fraerlings used cups rather than shot glasses for spirits—and strode off to a table where he was soon engrossed in a political discussion about the villages and those ‘cattle thieves’ that Ulvama had heard about.

Erin stood there, smiling, not drunk at all, as Vrilla ran off to harass Bowom about something. Ulvama leaned over.

“You’re not drinking?”

“I had two already!”

“I meant your immunity to alcohol!”

Erin gave Ulvama an innocent look as she shrugged.

“Someone’s got to stay sober or Fantim won’t let me do this again. Plus, these guys are crazy. Hey! Hey, if there’s not enough room, go outside! Don’t break that wall down! Don’t do it, pal!”

She ran off for a second, and Ulvama blinked.

“Do it again?”

She watched as Erin returned, panting, and the [Innkeeper] studied Ulvama.

“You’re not drunk either.”

Ulvama was, in fact, mildly buzzed at best. She judiciously sipped some Centiwine, which she did enjoy; it had a nice bitterness she couldn’t describe.

“Eh. I don’t like getting drunk. I make bad decisions. Not good to be excessive.”

The [Innkeeper] gave Ulvama an unconvinced look. She had once seen Ulvama take two bowls of popcorn and pour butter on one…syrup on the other. The [Shaman] flushed. She fiddled with her tankard, and maybe she was more drunk than she thought she was. Or it was because it was here and it was Erin and they had been there, in the ship. Because Ulvama said the truthful part out loud.

“I don’t like getting drunk…publically. Sometimes it makes you a target. Or harder to fight back or get away.”

Erin’s face went blank for a second as she processed what Ulvama meant. Then she glanced around at the noisy inn.

“Oh. I didn’t know—has that happened—?”

Ulvama met her eyes. Erin peeked at the doors, then lowered her voice.

“You can leave. I wouldn’t have made you stay if I’d known that—”

“It’s fine. This is a good village. And I’m not that drunk.”

Plus, you’re here. The [Innkeeper] smiled and patted Ulvama’s hand. Then she searched around.

“Hey, where’s Eurise? I thought he’d be here; I specifically invited him. Zemmy, where’s Eurise?”

“He’s not allowed to drink at any gathering!”

Fantim roared from his table, red-faced, and Zemmy shouted back.

“He wants to come! Maybe in a bit?”

The [Innkeeper] nodded. She gazed back at Ulvama, who was looking around for Vrilla. Erin had to get back to serving, so they couldn’t talk. But she wanted to tell Ulvama that if the [Shaman] didn’t feel like drinking in public, they could have a drink in private at some point…

The [Innkeeper] was mixing up a bunch of fruit for a super alcoholic drink and finding a spoon big enough for Bowom when she felt something—off—

It was a stirring on the back of her neck. A crawling sensation. Then a ringing that she first put down to the loud voices. But it intensified, and after a moment, Erin saw a few Fraerlings cease laughing and become alert. Her head turned, and Erin spoke.

“[Dangersense].”

Ulvama sat up at the bar. Erin vaulted it in one move and sweeped around. Was someone fighting? No…she didn’t hear any raised voices, and the Fraerlings weren’t drunk enough to be truly violent. She raised her voice.

“Everyone—quiet a second! Quiet!”

A hush fell so fast it was like magic. Heads turned to her, grinning faces shifting to uncertainty as Erin reached for something. A chair was the first weapon to hand. She walked forwards, gazing right and left.

“Does anyone else have [Dangersense]? Something’s coming.”

Fantim sat up in his chair. Vrilla spun as drunk Fraerlings got up suddenly, laughter gone.

“I’ve got one.”

“Me too. It was going off—”

“Outside. Now!”

They followed Erin in a rush as she strode outside, head swiveling. It was dark in the village; Fraerling homes were illuminated, but she realized it had gone still in the forest. Something was coming. Erin sensed it first—her head spun, trying to see through the dark trees, but her darkvision was shot.

It was Gollesume who whispered a spell.

“[Field of Detect Heat]. [Spell: Massive Expansion]. Where…there. Aw, cats.”

Something shone red and bright in the forest. It parted the trees delicately, stepping forward and sniffing at the short wooden wall. Then stepped over it in one move and swayed, shuffling on its four legs as Erin gaped up in horror.

It…reminded her of an elephant at first, so big it blotted out the sky. Until she realized it was probably not nearly as threatening if she’d been normal height; it might have been barely six feet tall. Still a big creature and a threat…but to Fraerlings, it was a giant.

It had four legs and fur, rather than an elephant’s hide, but it had a long trunk; that was what had made her see the similarity.

However, instead of the familiar long head and floppy ears, this thing had a squatter face, no visible ears, but two bright green eyes on each side of its face. They were staring straight ahead—until it flipped one side of its face so the eyes were facing outwards, like a horse. It had—eyeflaps?

And the ‘trunk’ was not a nose like an elephant, but rather a mouth. A grinding sound emanated from the nose as it tore up some ground, and Erin heard a snorting sound; there were two holes on each side of the trunk-mouth.

It was huge, hairy, and menacing. If it had been smaller, Erin wouldn’t have instantly thought of it as a threat. As it was, the mouth was perfectly adapted to eat small creatures. Like—Fraerlings.

Whatever this thing was, it had found the village, and it was shuffling forwards, trunk-mouth snaking towards the homes. Erin saw one stumpy foot had claws on it, digging into the soil. It was going towards the village where the young Fraerlings were probably asleep. And alone—

Erin didn’t realize she was running until she shouted.

“Stop!”

The loud sound made the giant snuffle-monster turn. It focused on Erin and opened its trunk-mouth, revealing sharp incisors. Erin saw it sway around, alarmingly fast—she slowed, and she only had a chair.

“Erin!”

Behind her, Ulvama was shouting her name. The [Innkeeper] halted. This thing was way too big to fight. It dwarfed the Wailer Frogs, the giant Aurmak birds, and everything else.

But she was between it and the village center now, and Erin did the only thing she could do. She raised her hand and pulled her flaming hat out of the sky.

“Get lost. Or I’ll kill you.”

A shimmering hat of flames burned downwards. The [Innkeeper] halted and wished she had her knife. Her aura exploded around her, like Maviola had taught her, and she projected it upwards, making it bigger, as if she were a dozen times her size.

The snuffle-creature didn’t like that. It reared back, and Erin saw spikes, like claws, shoot out the length of its trunk. It swung the trunk like a whip, cutting the air and raising a cloud of dust. It honked at her, a surprisingly dangerous sound for how silly it could have been. The [Innkeeper] stood there, breathing in and out.

“Leave.”

She projected her aura at it and got a nasty shock. The creature regarded her—then stood up, transitioning from its four legs to two. It lowered two clawed arms and opened a second mouth in its body.

Everything in Baleros sucked. The [Innkeeper] tensed to move; the beast was swaying now, left and right, and she had no doubt it could whip at her with its claws or trunk. But it was nervous; Erin’s aura was filling the ground.

“I said leave.”

It wasn’t going to. It was going to attack; the honking had grown deeper, like hooting, now, and Erin was sweating. She was afraid—was Ulvama too close to it? If they fought, Erin had to force it back. Kill it. Don’t let it touch them. Don’t let anyone take her again.

 

——

 

The teeth were peeling back in the monster’s second mouth. It was focusing on what should have been food. A tiny morsel filled with lovely meat.

But the morsel looked big. It wanted to kill. It was radiating danger. Still, it was small, and the intelligent part of the monster’s brain said this was a fight it would win.

It hesitated because of the flame. The bright hat of green, pink, white, and so many other colors roaring over the [Witch]’s head. The trunk’s mouth snapped, pursing to spit some of the sticky bile it used to immobilize its prey.

—But the long-nosed Duffshambler hesitated when the second flame appeared.

 

——

 

Erin jerked when she saw the harsh glow of orange light. She turned and almost hit Gollesume. The [Wizard] was standing next to her, still drunk, but rapidly sobering. He had a wand in one hand. He was pointing it up at the air, and above the tip was a glowing orb of yellow and orange fire, roiling bright and casting a nimbus that illuminated the ground around him for hundreds of feet.

[Siege Fireball]? The [Wizard] finished his drink and tossed the cup over his shoulder. He spoke.

“[Second Burning Sun].”

The orb grew larger as Erin watched, until it was the size of a Human’s head. The snuffling beast really didn’t like that. It hissed, and then a figure stomped out of the inn towards them.

Vrilla was wearing armor of vines and leaves; she was only three feet tall, but she seemed like a massive Golem of nature. Thorns erupted down her arms as Fraerlings raced past Erin into the village.

They were sounding the alarm; someone—Fantim—was blowing a horn as Fraerlings stomped into line next to Erin.

Zemmy and Mera were edging forwards as Macnest ran up with his two hammers. Another Fraerling had a longbow, and Roja appeared with the other hunters that Erin had seen during the Dragonfly raid. The hunter spoke in succinct words, eyes on the monster.

“It’s one of those damn Duffshamblers. Careful—it’ll suck you up. Anyone unarmored is going to get chewed to pieces. It’s got multiple sets of teeth in that trunk.”

Roja raised her voice.

“It’s fast. Even if you take out a leg, it’ll go down on all fours. Slice the trunk first. It’s got two more eyes hidden on its sides. Its entire thing is being tough enough to raid for anything—eggs, insects—then getting out of there. Keep it off the village.”

Erin’s head turned right and left, then focused on the Duffshambler. She wondered what she could do.

Burn it. That was her best bet. If she could get on its head, she’d burn a hole straight through it. Erin glanced over her shoulder.

“Ulvama, get back.”

The [Shaman] shook her head as the Duffshambler swayed right and left, trying to shuffle to get away from the more dangerous-looking foods and access the unguarded village. The Fraerlings were moving forwards, cutting it off. Erin was tensing for an attack when she heard a whistle.

It was loud, and it came from the side. A figure bounded over the walls; Erin didn’t see him at first, but she sensed Eurise before he leapt over the three-foot tall walls. Her head turned; she heard a sound of relief from the Fraerlings next to her and a cheer from Zemmy and Mera.

“Eurise! Let us help!”

The female [Brawler] ran forwards a bit, but the guardian of the village didn’t answer. He came to a halt, panting.

“There you are.”

It seemed like he’d been running hard; sweat covered his arms and body. His eyes focused on the Duffshambler, and it warily rotated towards him. It felt it too.

The same menace Erin Solstice had been projecting rolled off the highest-level Fraerling in the village. He walked forwards, unarmed, bare-fisted, and the Duffshambler hooted at him.

“Should we help—?”

The other Fraerlings were falling back. Not lowering their guards, but with a sense of relief. Macnest shook his head.

“Let him handle it. He’s killed bigger monsters before. Wall spells up! Barriers up!”

Spellcasters were raising walls around the houses, and a glowing bubble-dome expanded as the two beasts stared each other down. Eurise was still walking at the towering monster, a dozen times his height and thousands of times his mass. The Duffshambler was the thing that was retreating, though.

It hooted again, and Erin sensed the danger in the air spiking. She watched, not moving backwards with the others as Eurise tensed. A Level 50+ [Warrior].

“What’s his class? He doesn’t even have a weapon?”

Zemmy turned to Erin as Eurise crouched slightly. The [Brawler]’s eyes flashed in the night.

“His class? It’s—”

He leaned over and whispered into Erin’s ear for a second. She blinked. Turned to Zemmy. And felt that familiar chill on her skin.

Once upon a time…

“That’s a lot of periods.”

Zemmy gave Erin an odd look.

“What, you tall people don’t use periods in your classes anymore?”

Eurise jumped. He hit the Duffshambler like a blur, and the huge beast recoiled, staggering back. Erin saw it swat at the air; Eurise was already leaping away, and he jumped again and kicked it in one leg so hard the shambler stumbled.

She thought he did, at least. He was fast. He fought like the Battle Hamster, she realized; a bounding blur darting around. But the Duffshambler was quick.

It swung at him with a whip-like arm, and Erin saw Eurise go flying. He hit the ground in a puff of dirt and rose as the shambler recoiled and honked in pain. They’d hit each other. And Eurise had drawn red blood that dripped down wetly under the moon.

The Duffshambler recoiled as Eurise rose to his feet. He didn’t look cut or visibly bruised. His teeth were all bared like a Drake, and he strode forwards. This time, he jumped like a superhero.

He could jump a building in a single bound…Erin’s head rose, and she saw the Duffshambler swipe. Eurise caught the paw and raced up the arm. He activated his Skill as the Fraerling leapt for the Duffshambler’s face.

Eurise. Guardian of Dretonamis. Their Level 50 protector. His class? The same as older days in this village that had endured ages in isolation.

[Retired Explorer. Scarred Wyldbeast. Guardian of This Place and No Other.]

He said—

“[Scarstrike].”

It looked like a serpent, a ringed cobra with that iconic wide head, huge and writhing, biting as its fangs dug into the Duffshambler’s eye. The honking of alarm became a single long blurt of pain, and it tried to tear at the snake it thought was biting it, injecting it with venom.

But there was no snake. Only a Fraerling, who fell and said the word again.

“[Scarstrike].”

Claws, this time from a creature Erin recognized. A snarling jaguar, slashing left-right and tearing at the Duffshambler’s fur. It backed away, not understanding what was going on, swinging wildly at what it must have assumed were invisible animals phasing in and out of sight.

But it was just him. Eurise swung himself back up, towards its back, where its inner organs or head must have been. He raised his hands and hammered down, and Erin saw the beast fall onto all fours. It groaned, tried to twist, to fall, and for a third time, the Fraerling activated his Skill.

A Creler tore down, razor-legs ripping up flesh and blood as the Duffshambler screamed. It jerked and fell to one side as Eurise vanished into the hole carved into its back. The jungle predator writhed on the ground, both mouth and trunk-mouth opening and closing, eyes wide in agony.

Erin watched as it tried to rise, twisted around frantically—then stiffened. It collapsed in a moment, strings cut, though it kept jerking and flailing sporadically as its nerves continued to fire.

“He got the brain. All clear unless there’s another!”

Macnest called out, and Fraerlings answered in the affirmative. They didn’t cheer as the monster lay dead, but Erin thought they released a breath of tension they’d been holding. She just watched until a figure emerged from the wound in the creature’s back.

Eurise was covered in blood and moved slowly after killing his opponent. Steam was rising from the wound, and he walked back towards the village.

“Eurise! Got water for you!”

Zemmy and Mera ran forwards, and the Fraerling man let his apprentices pour water over him. He stopped as Erin walked forwards with Ulvama.

“I reckon there was just one. I knew it was poking around, but the damn thing moved fast. Almost got around me. I felt your aura goin’ off, so I came running. Thank you.”

“I didn’t do much. I couldn’t have stopped it like that.”

The creature was dead so fast Erin could barely credit it. Eurise gave her a ghost of a smile; Mera and Zemmy were crowding around, adulation in their eyes and voices—but the two of them, Eurise and Erin, stood as if they were in the [Pavilion of Secrets].

He seemed tired. Erin knew how it felt. She stood there as Eurise held out a hand, still bloody, flecks of brain under his fingernails.

“Even so. I thought you were the right sort, and I’m glad I wasn’t wrong.”

On his head be it. Erin took the hand and shook it. She smiled briefly and spoke to the lonely, scarred guardian-beast of the Fraerlings.

“I’m glad I’m not alone.”

He blinked—and then he did offer her a real, rueful smile at that, and a chuckle. Erin knew just what to do. She swept her arm out and pointed to the ramshackle inn.

“I think we’d better all buy you a drink. But maybe wash your hands first. You’ve got brain on your fingers. It’s kinda gross.”

 

——

 

On the whole, it was a quiet first week in the village. The Fraerlings said as much as well.

“Getting a big monster like that Duffthing was nasty, but there’s always something. Battle Hammies get too near, those dragonflies crop up; it’s not serious until they’re in the village. But it happens. That’s why we tolerate Bowom.”

“That’s right.”

They were having breakfast on the day of the festival, and Erin was oddly relaxed still, despite having run into a titanic monster the night before.

There was danger here. But the village could handle it. If the danger got too nasty, the villagers would suffer. But they rose in levels, and each one of them was a kind of extraordinary, or could be.

In a sense…this was the place that embodied the dream that Zineryr had spoken of, the reason for the system of levels that Sprigaena had fought for. Erin wished the Gnomes could have seen their crazy, silly cousins all these years later.

Roja and Bowom were having breakfast as the village decorated. Not much; they had strung up ropes and put light spells in place, and the houses were newly-painted and hung with flowers and ornamentation.

It wasn’t overblown like a parade in Invrisil. But everyone was out and about, not working, and there was even drinking—in moderation—allowed by [Mayor] Fantim.

And other Fraerlings. They kept coming over to introduce themselves; they were from two other villages nearby enough for travel, but not so near that anyone could make the journey regularly and safely, except for Zemmy and Eurise.

“Seems like the other villages’ve decided you’re alright. I reckon that was old Fantim and Eurise putting in a word for you after you stood off against that Duffshambler. Or they really want someone to run an inn for them.”

Rojalin commented as the other villagers streamed in for the festival. Erin waved that off, embarrassed.

“I keep saying I only stood there.”

“Not everyone’s brave enough to stand in front of trouble. Besides—we spread word that you were both enchanted to be small and looking to get to a city. One of the Tallguard outposts finally picked it up, so they’ll get back to us about you getting there.”

“Oh, when?”

Erin saw Ulvama glance up, but Rojalin shrugged.

“Can’t say. But hey, so long as we have you—is the inn opening tonight?”

She licked her lips, and Erin laughed. Then she felt a tug at her arm.

“Erin, I want to see the festival.”

“Okay, Ulvama, let’s go.”

The [Shaman] could have gone on her own or with the Corumdon Beetle, but Erin was game. They got up and began to tour the festival.

There were things to do in the Fraerling village. People were still making lanterns, fixing the candles in place with bits of sticks and twine so they’d fly upwards when lit, and inserting little talismans into the center.

“Want to decorate one?”

Vrilla was overseeing the making of the lanterns, and Erin looked at Ulvama.

“Why not?”

Normally, she wasn’t much of a crafter, despite her Skills, but Erin and Ulvama schemed to make a Goblin-lantern, complete with pointy ears and red eyes. Vrilla laughed when they showed it to her; it was pretty good. Between Ulvama’s artistic ability and Erin’s [Advanced Crafting], they’d come up with one of the better-looking lanterns.

“That’s excellent! It’ll be a sight to see when it’s flying up there! I’ll keep them; come back and light them this evening, alright? And Ulvama, I’ll see you at my house in an hour!”

The two walked on. Erin turned to Ulvama.

“What’re you doing at the pumpkin?”

“Just something for the festival. Like you’re doing the inn.”

Erin groaned and rolled one shoulder.

“Yeah, that’s going to be work. I said only four hours—and Zemmy and Mera are helping bounce people. Fraerlings are rowdy! Say…where are those two?”

The question turned out to be only a few minutes early, because a big ring had been set up to the side of the main thoroughfare. And there was Zemmy, Mera, and the Battle Hamster.

“Knock down a hammie or feed it lunch! Come on, who’s gonna take him on? If you’re over Level 40, you have to use one hand!”

“What if you’re over Level 40 and a fragile old man like me?”

A querulous voice from a Fraerling from out of town. He was white-haired and stoop-backed, one of those classic-looking old [Wizards], though his hat was a funny cap rather than a pointed one. Zemmy frowned at him and was about to answer when Gollesume hollered.

“No one’s buying it, Pozint. One hand! And only one enchantment, you cheater!”

The old man sighed. Then he straightened and tapped his chest with a wand.

“Oh, fine. [Body of the Minotaur].”

He doubled in size and grew muscles as Erin’s jaw dropped, and he raised one hand as he strode into the ring. The Battle Hamster put up his paws, good eye narrowing as the crowd cheered.

“Grimalkin would love him.”

Ulvama snorted with laughter, and they watched the Battle Hamster and old man go at it; the hamster won, if barely, and the old man groaned as he exited the ring.

“One hand! It’s too much for an old fellow. Pitting a fighting hammie against me at my age without even letting me double-buff?”

Onwards they went as the hamster took a water break and Mera jumped in the ring, proclaiming she’d beat anyone one-handed. Erin wasn’t as interested in the brawling as the other stuff.

Fraerlings were bringing things they’d made from other villages. Enchanted items, food and monster parts they’d looted, and Erin’s chest inflated as she saw some of her food proudly on display along with hamburgers. She approached and shook hands and waved at people and explained a bit about where she was from.

 

——

 

Ulvama only dragged Erin away to go sample foods after fifteen minutes, and then they saw the Corumdon Beetle giving Fraerling children rides around the village.

It looked happy. Almost like that weird feeling in Erin’s chest. She realized she wasn’t stressed or afraid or angry or…

If she didn’t remember home or her friends, she felt relaxed. Erin had to struggle to keep those feelings in her until she wondered why she was working so hard. When she glanced at Ulvama—she saw the [Shaman] watching her.

“What? I’m relaxing! Look how relaxed I am.”

“I know.”

The Goblin’s gaze was actually going past Erin’s head. She was peering at something behind Erin, the [Innkeeper] realized. When the young woman frowned, she heard Ulvama make a faint sound in her throat.

“Erin. Those are…Fraerling plushies?”

They had come to the games-section of any festival, the mandatory booths of enterprising Fraerlings. In this case, it was Gollesume the Great and a booth where Fraerlings hurled brightly colored pebbles at moving and stationary targets.

They had little red balls that burst into mini fireballs, purple balls that wobbled and curved when you threw them—and Ulvama was already striding past Erin to stare at the prizes.

“Come one, come all! Knock down all the targets and win a prize! Hey, Ulvama, Erin! Want to try winning one of these stuffed creatures? They’re not real creatures. I thought about actually stuffing one and miniaturizing it, but…”

They were Fraerling stuffed animals, so not teddy bears or dogs or cats—which Fraerlings regarded as monstrous. Rather, Erin saw a cute green stuffed aphid with big button eyes, a long lizard that a Fraerling girl was wearing on her head, a butterfly, and—the object that Ulvama’s eyes were focused on—

The Battle Hamster in miniature. He had a small inverted ‘v’ for a mouth and big frowny brows over the eye—only one eye. Gollesume proudly tapped it as Ulvama looked at him wordlessly.

“Like him? I stitched up the hammie just last night. He looks good, doesn’t he?”

The Battle Hamster had wandered by the booth more than once and given his replica an outraged look. Ulvama’s eyes were locked on the plushie. There was only one of each; Fraerlings didn’t have the inclination or time to mass-produce things. No one had won the hamster plushie; he was the hardest to win.

Erin heard cursing and saw Zemmy and Mera trying to nail rapidly-moving targets that were jerking up and down. The painted red and white targets paused, then came together to form a big, mocking smile as Zemmy reached for another ball.

“Damn. It’s too hard, Gollesume! Give us another try!”

“Sorry. One try per person!”

The [Wizard] smugly folded his arms, and Mera and Zemmy slunk away. Ulvama turned to Gollesume.

“Can I try? Can I use Skills? Magic?”

“Nothing beyond personal enchantments. Skills are fine. But try hard—I made the hardest level hard, just so meatheads like those can’t steal all my prizes.”

Gollesume ducked as a pair of dirtballs rattled off his stall. As he chased after Zemmy and Mera, Erin watched Ulvama muttering spells.

“[Lion’s Strength]. [Steadying Hands]. [Viper’s Dexterity]…”

“Ulvama, how badly do you want the hamster? I mean, he’s pretty cute, but the real guy is with us.”

The Hobgoblin gave Erin an incredulous stare and pointed at the plushie.

“It’s adorable.”

She wound up for her first shot with a yellow ball and tossed it. The ball missed one target, ricocheted around the booth, and blasted past Erin’s head as she ducked. There was a cry in the distance as it hit someone. Ulvama just gritted her teeth as she picked up the red ball.

 

——

 

Five sweaty minutes later, Ulvama was lying face-first on the booth as Gollesume tried to get her to leave.

“I can’t give you another chance. Tell you what—if everyone tries and fails to get the plushie, you can have another shot. Ulvama? Ulvama, it’s not the end of the world…”

Erin was fascinated. She had never seen Ulvama sulk, but the longing way the [Shaman] stared at the toy hamster made Erin realize—she really wanted it. There was a lot of stuff Ulvama had wanted in the inn. Mostly food. But she’d never actually asked for any possession that Erin recalled. Just paints for her work.

Gollesume was glancing at Erin, clearly hoping she’d drag the Goblin off. Ulvama’s head rose as she sniffed and peered at the hamster. She turned to Erin and saw the [Innkeeper] rolling up one sleeve, then the other.

“You said any Skill’s good, right, Gollesume?”

Erin asked innocently. The [Wizard] shrugged, smiling broadly.

“Sure. Sometimes I ban people with good Skills, but you’re free to try. [Lion’s Strength] doesn’t matter much if you can’t hit a moving target.”

He winked, and the targets began to move up and down, even flipping around. Erin had watched Ulvama cycle through the balls. She picked up the yellow one casually and tossed it up and down. Then she glanced at Ulvama’s hopeful face.

The [Innkeeper]’s lips twitched as she took aim…then she eyed Gollesume’s confident smirk. Erin checked the ball, then exclaimed.

“Hey, is the enchantment wearing off on this one, Gollesume? Do you have backups? Look, it’s out of color.”

The [Wizard] frowned at the yellow ball, which had indeed faded slightly in luster.

“What the heck? Sure, take this one.”

He tossed her a spare yellow ball, and Erin rubbed her hands over it. The watching Hobgoblin saw the ball brighten faintly as the [Innkeeper] smiled. Gollesume’s eyes narrowed.

“Hey, wait a second—what Skills are you planning on using?”

Erin gave him an outright grin.

“[Unerring Throw]?”

“Oh come on—”

Erin threw the first ball, and it didn’t stop bouncing for a full minute.

 

——

 

Six minutes later, Ulvama reached out as a scowling little hamster plushie floated down and into her arms. She hugged it to her chest instantly, and a slightly defeated-looking, but grinning Gollesume shook Erin’s hands.

“That was wretchedly underhanded. I’m keeping the super-bouncy ball, and you’re on my blacklist. Just you wait till next festival. If you’re around, I’m using invisible targets on you. Ones that phase out of existence!”

Erin laughed and glanced at Ulvama. She was holding the plushie up, and she wasn’t smiling as wide as Erin had hoped. Her red eyes were locked on the hamster with such a soft, joyful expression that the [Innkeeper] felt embarrassed.

“Thank you, Erin.”

Ulvama turned to her and carried the hamster in her arms.

“Eh, it was nothing. I was having fun—you really like plushies?”

“I like this one. Because he’s soft and cute and…this.”

Ulvama put the hamster on her head, rearranging his little paws so he clung to her hair. Erin had to admit—it was a very cute look. Ulvama actually spun around as a few Fraerlings turned and pointed, laughing good-naturedly.

“I’m glad I won it, then.”

The [Shaman] was nodding. She hugged Erin once, hard. The [Innkeeper] blushed; Ulvama wiped at her eyes.

“Is my first gift from a non-Goblin. I’m keeping it and bringing it with me.”

“It’s…”

Erin didn’t manage to say ‘nothing’. After a moment, the Goblin glanced away from Erin’s face. She cradled the little, angry hamster in her arms and stood there, mouth slightly open. As if she were about to say something, but wasn’t quite sure what it was. Then her eyes flickered. She glanced towards the sun, checking the time, and her features grew excited.

“Oh! It’s almost time! Come, this way!”

“Time for what?”

Ulvama winked and then pulled Erin on. Then Erin did get to see Ulvama smile.

 

——

 

The smile came as a bunch of Fraerlings stood outside Vrilla’s pumpkin house, which she’d converted into an open stage. Erin stood in the crowd as Zemmy and the hamster appeared.

“Hey, you seen Mera? She said she’d meet us here. This is the best hammie I’ve ever met, Erin. He fights really good, and he has a bat!”

The hamster looked smug despite his bruises as he patted his stomach and full cheeks. Erin gave him a resigned look and then saw two green curtains part. Vrilla appeared in a performer’s outfit; leaves patterned upwards across her chest and legs, leaving her shoulders bare, with a bright yellow flower blooming over her heart.

“Hello, everyone! Today, for the Festival of Spring’s Safety, we’re putting on a simple routine! We have an outsider who’s taught us some dances—please applaud, or I’ll hex you, for Ulvama!”

She waved a Goblin onto the stage, and Erin’s mouth opened as Ulvama appeared in a similar costume. Zemmy clapped and cheered—right until he saw someone else appear on stage.

“Wh—Mera?”

Even the [Brawler] had dressed up, and a group of six Fraerlings, four female, two male, posed on stage. They had on pretty revealing, even risque outfits! This was the least amount of clothing Ulvama had worn yet, and she had a crown of flowers!

The flowers weren’t explicitly risque. It just wasn’t something Erin had ever seen Ulvama wear.

“What’s Mera doing? She’s almost naked.”

“Yeah! And Ulvama’s doing it too!”

Zemmy and Erin scowled in the crowd as the crowd cheered, very happy with the outfits. The Battle Hamster stared at them, then began washing its fur as the music began. Then the Fraerlings and Ulvama began performing the dance that she’d shown them the first time.

The Dance of the Passing Moons. Erin stood there, watching as they danced to that odd, lonely, spiritual sound and saw Ulvama smiling, both part of the small team and aware of the crowd, but also just dancing for herself on stage. The [Innkeeper] was smiling too, she found, and when the dance ended and the applause began, she waited for Ulvama to come out.

The Hobgoblin gave Erin an innocent look as Zemmy punched Mera on the shoulder the moment she exited. She was grinning.

“What? You mad because I didn’t invite you? I told Vrilla you wouldn’t wear that.”

“I don’t know why you wanted to wear that! Isn’t it too revealing?”

“Sometimes it’s nice to be stared at.”

Erin crossed her arms and shook her head. Ulvama just rolled her eyes at the [Innkeeper] as the two [Brawlers] got into a fight. They went to find Eurise, who introduced them to the guardian of another village.

“This is Zinni, Zemmy’s grandmother and her village’s protector.”

“Howdy. I’m a [Rancher]. I keep all those aphids you’ve been hearing about. Biggest aphids you’ve ever seen. Some of them are near four inches tall.”

Erin gave Zinni a blank smile.

“Those are big…aphids?”

The white-haired lady looked frailer with age, but her grip wasn’t. She had on one of those crowns of flowers and gave Ulvama an appraising look.

“Well now, that’s the third Goblin I’ve ever seen in my life, and this one’s neither dark-skinned nor dead like the other two. And she’s cute as can be. I saw you chasing the kids around. You’re telling me this turns into a Goblin King?”

She pinched Ulvama’s cheek, and the [Shaman] blushed, much to Erin’s amusement. Zinni was like the eternal grandmother, and she was quizzing Erin and Ulvama about the outside world with much more knowledge than most Fraerlings.

“Bah, I told you all our [Druids] were onto something. New Lands in Izril? If I was younger, I’d be leading the charge to have a bunch of us go out and settle it. Give another continent a shot.”

Eurise was nodding, face regretful as well.

“It sounds like fun. But explain to me again what you were saying about ghosts? Zinni doesn’t believe you.”

“Neither d’you. But I like stories.”

Erin’s tales of her world, of Tallfolk struggles, were distant to the Fraerlings. She had readily talked about Goblins and her inn and tried to allude to the dead gods, but it was hard.

The hardest part was—Eurise and Zinni exchanged glances when Erin mentioned the deadlands and Gnomes.

“Gnomes. Right. I heard we were related or cousins to that lot. The big cities all make a fuss over their you-know-whats.”

Zinni gave Erin a careful glance, and she blurted it out.

“The boxes? I know about them. I told you, I met Gnomes.”

That seemed to convince Eurise and Zinni she wasn’t completely lying; Eurise exhaled and raised his brows.

“If that’s so, that’s something. I reckon a bunch of the other villagers who like talking about that kind of thing—Gollesume, Bowom, and so on—might want to have a big meeting about it. And the cities’ll be all over you if you convince them that you met Gnomes.”

Erin looked from face to face. Both Level 50+ Fraerlings nodded.

“Wh—don’t you have questions? I met Gnomes.”

“I reckon that’s important. But it’s also a festival. Let’s go back to them cows. I can’t keep one of those safe, but how about those, uh, Sariant Lambs? I reckon you can milk one of them.”

Zinni tapped the table, and Erin’s mouth stayed open before she vouchsafed that Sariant Lambs would probably not be chill with being milked. And she realized the Gnomes, while important, didn’t draw every mind and thought to them here.

—And again, she thought Zineryr would have loved that.

 

——

 

They were talking and eating with Erin until she was called away for the inn—whereupon she found Zinni first in line and realized the obstreperous [Rancher] was as bad a drunk as the others.

That was how Erin spent most of her festival. Not on heavy matters, but working a bit, playing games, like a version of cornhole—only where you hit targets hung up rather than lying on the ground—and just taking in the festivities with Ulvama.

The final act for the night was, of course, the lanterns. Ulvama dragged Erin over to their lantern, and they lit it with hundreds of Fraerlings across the village. Thousands of lanterns drifted up into the sky, glowing every color of light, decorated, rising upwards, and Erin stood there.

“This is a nice place.”

That’s all she said to Ulvama. The [Shaman] smiled as she glanced at Erin and saw the [Innkeeper]’s hair was still discolored, that she still had her scars and that age in her voice and bearing—

But she looked less like a walking corpse. Less like a dead woman and more like someone healing. Slowly. Bit by bit.

As the lanterns rose, Erin sighed…and then saw the first shape buzz up through the air. She blinked, and a firefly rose, co-mingling with the lights, attracted by the glow.

“Uh oh. Does anyone need to watch out for them?”

She turned as a bat flew overhead, also attracted by the glow in the treetops, and then heard the first pop. Erin glanced up and saw the firefly had tried to grapple onto her and Ulvama’s lantern, thinking it was a mate or at least another similar light source.

The little lantern bobbed in the sky—and then the talisman the two had been given activated. The resulting green [Fireball] burst into light…and a flaming firefly crashed down out of the sky.

“Got one!”

A cheer went up from below. Erin and Ulvama’s mouths stayed open as the remnants of their lantern fell down. The bat went after another lantern—which promptly zapped it so hard its entire body lit up. More bugs and critters were flying now, and the lanterns were unleashing the spells inside.

The Festival of Spring Safety. That’s why they called it that. The Fraerlings cheered and whooped and called up curses at the predators being thinned by the lanterns, and Erin only realized her mouth was still open when a bit of ash from above landed on her tongue.

“Peh! Argh! What the heck—”

She started giggling. Then laughing at the ridiculousness of the festival. Not that it was wrong—only unexpected and silly, and then she was laughing so hard she couldn’t stand upright. Erin heard a strange sound, looked up, and saw Ulvama was chuckling too. The two regarded each other, then laughed and laughed.

They had to hold onto each other to stand upright, and when Bowom found them, they were laughing and sinking onto the ground. Erin lay there, staring up at the sky exploding with lights. She breathed in and out and sensed Ulvama lying just to her side.

She felt like she had forgotten who Erin Solstice was for a long while. She still didn’t know who [The Wandering Innkeeper] had become. But if this was what the weary woman, the burning [Witch], the travelling woman far from home was now…

It wasn’t all bad.

 

 

 

 

Author’s Note:

I had another chapter all done and loaded for this week. And this was meant to be a one-day, 10k chapter.

Look at it now, dear readers. Look at it now.

I don’t regret it. This was a fun chapter to write, even if I struggled mightily with the task of writing wholesome slice of life. Even as I type this, I still have a ‘cute and relaxing music’ video playing. It has a penguin on the video and it’s so cute I may vomit kittens.

However, I also shouted out Sunspot, and I want you to check it out or read my announcement about it—it is always amazing when a reader of The Wandering Inn starts their own story, and I am going to push you to support yootie. In fact, I think you won’t be reading this until it hits #1 on Topwebfiction; I’m holding it hostage until my Discord gives it enough upvotes.

This is a responsible use of my limited voice to readers. Anyways, I have little else to say other than that I am happy with this chapter. Some days you want to write about relaxing stuff, and Erin deserves it a bit.

Innktober is still going on, so here’s a lot of amazing art themed around Day 1: The Inn. Let me know how you liked this chapter, check out Sunspot, and see you next week!

 

 

Needing Hugs by Brack!

DeviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/shurkin/gallery/

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/brack

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Brack_Giraffe

 

Inn and Quests by Spooky!

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/spookyspookyowl

 

Innkeeper Honey by Lanrae!

 

Inn Food by Brazy Canana!

 

Magnolia and the Inn by Mystik Druidess!

 

Inn Explosion by Sanfire!

 

Inn Floorplan by SeanG!

 

Inn by Pixiedust!

 

A model of The Wandering Inn by Melon!

 

Sock and Elf on a Walk by LeChatDemon!

DeviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/demoniccriminal

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/lechatdemon

Stash with all the TWI related art: https://sta.sh/222s6jxhlt0

 

Famous Inn by Onionlittle!

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/littleonion

Twitter: https://twitter.com/littleonion_art

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/littleonion.art/

 

Inn by Samsung!

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ehdwooehd

 

Inn Floorplan by Lunartactician!

 

Erin by JuanD!

 

Seborn by cloudwatcher!

 

Inn by XwriZ!

 

Inn by Lore!

 

Inn by Nanahou!

 

Inn by Pontastic!

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/tobiasnordin

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/tobias.s.nordin/

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCde0VI7ReuYdsyzoFrIfr7g

Website: https://www.nordink.net/home

 

Halloween Inn by GhostHouse!

 

Chess by Manuel!

 

The Box by Stargazing Selphid!

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/megawint/

Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/megawint

 

 

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