6.10 (1/2)

There was darkness. There was stone. And there was a pickaxe. Lit by a plum glow, the dusty steel head rose. The pair of hands gripping it lifted it up, and back. For a moment it rested on a shoulder. Then it swung forwards, an arc gathering speed and weight.

Momentum. The tip of the pickaxe struck the wall. The stone cracked. The sound sent little bugs scurrying. Rockmites. But the green arms paid no attention. The head stayed where it was.

Up the pickaxe swung again. A precise tool, for all its weight. A careless swing could be useless, a waste of energy. But the one who held the pickaxe aimed carefully at the wall.

Ahead and down. There was nothing special about the bend of wall where the miner stood. But he had been breaking into the stone for an hour now. Rocky fragments lay all around him, and he’d cleared the ground around his feet twice. Ahead and down. The glowing purple light of the mana stone, plum in color, told him that. He lifted the pickaxe again and swung it. He was sweating in the darkness. But he felt good. He was working. Working. A novel concept.

“When I was small, I learned to speak by stealing it. I stole words, hiding in the sewers of a town. Far, far north of here. Goblins can live in sewers. We can live everywhere.”

Numbtongue’s voice echoed slightly in his ears. No one replied to him. The Goblin didn’t pause as he swung again, digging out the wall.

“Humans lived above my head. Fighting, arguing, laughing…living. I watched them, sometimes. There was a place right outside the Mage’s Guild. Outside of other guilds too—I would listen there. But it was the Mage’s Guild where I learned all the big words. Sometimes they would argue, or gossip about secrets where they thought no one could hear.”

Again, the pickaxe swung. The stone glowed; was it brighter? Numbtongue thought it was, but if it had, the glow had changed without him noticing. Slowly, like memory changed in the head with time, sneaking up quietly.

“I learned to speak because I thought it would make the Humans listen. That if only they knew I could talk, they would stop hunting us. They knew we were in the sewers. Just not how many. One day they swept the sewers with every adventurer they could muster. [Guards] and [Mercenaries] too. Even [Militia]. Trying to kill us for good.”

Who was he talking to? Himself? That was a waste of breath. Like tears. No proper Goblin would waste air like that. But Numbtongue was a [Bard]. And though there was no one to hear him, he imagined he was telling Erin. As if she were sitting on the ground, trying to pet one of the Rockmites, listening. Just listening.

“I spoke to them, then. Then I shouted. Pleaded and begged. It only made them come after me. I survived. There’s nothing else to say. That was how I met Garen Redfang. He rode down out of the hills. Before he had made the High Passes his permanent base his tribe roamed, until we were too strong to hide and the Gold-rank teams were following us. He saved me and those that fled. That’s how I became a warrior.”

Maybe he was practicing. Trying to tell the Erin in his head before the real thing. Because Numbtongue was still afraid of talking.

“So I don’t talk even though I can. Because Goblins are dumb. We do not talk. I didn’t need to with the others. Now I speak—but it’s still hard. Because I fear…I’m afraid no one will listen.”

Numbtongue turned his head. In his mind, the imaginary Erin smiled at him. But he saw only darkness. The Hobgoblin stood in the cave, feeling sweat sting his eyes. He wiped at his forehead. Shook his head.

“Goblin. Better not talk. Better talk like Goblin. Stupid talking to self.”

The [Bard] grunted to himself. That sounded better, somehow. More like a proper Goblin. But was he behaving like that because that was how the world expected him to be? If Headscratcher were here—

Numbtongue closed his eyes. If he were here, he would have poked Numbtongue in the side and grimaced. And that silent gesture would have been enough. It would have said to Numbtongue—no. Don’t do that. You can speak differently. Better. So do it. Don’t pretend to be someone you’re not.

“This is why I am a [Bard]. A Goblin of words and music.”

The guitar lay on the ground, out of range of the rocky fragments as they fell to the ground. Numbtongue said nothing more after that. He was saving his words. To talk to Erin. To talk to her tonight, maybe. If she had time. Maybe while she and he had a drink at her bar. At night, when no one else was around. His words were for her. He didn’t feel like sharing them with the others, adventurers, even Lyonette.

That was all Numbtongue wanted. A quiet chat at night around a table. A few minutes, an hour to speak with Erin. If he had that, he could be happy. And he could tell her too, if she invited him. His past, his fears…

And that he thought chess was really boring. And she would laugh, or be angry, and that would be—

Chink.

The sound as the tip of the pickaxe rang was different from all the other times Numbtongue had swung. It was louder. Higher-pitched. He’d hit something different. Instantly, the Goblin stepped back. He stared among the broken pieces of rock and dust. What had he…?

Translucent, white—no, grey. Oozing from the stone, a pale ashy glow. Numbtongue sprang back in alarm. Then he caught himself. It wasn’t a monster. And it wasn’t dangerous. He realized what it was as the memories in his head identified the liquid.

Mana sludge. The liquid slowly ran out of the gap in the wall his pickaxe had made. A slow, dripping substance as thick as paste. But It was semi-translucent, and had an odd, inner sparkling quality. As if little motes of light were caught in the liquid.

Numbtongue stared at it, entranced. But if he’d been Pyrite, the older Hobgoblin would have just sighed and shook his head. Mana sludge. Not good. No one touch. Or drink.

“Raw mana. In stone. Bad stone?”

Numbtongue muttered to himself, figuring out how Pyrite would have phrased it. Mana sludge was the Hobgoblin’s word for it. He was well aware the stuff was magical, but to him it was about as appealing as dirt; hardly worth the effort of collecting. A failed mining expedition, in short.

But Numbtongue wasn’t so certain. He studied the raw mana sludge as it dripped to the ground. Some of the Rockmites scurried closer, and then backed away, probably sensing the magic the stuff held. So did Numbtongue. He reached out and felt the slightest tingle in his fingertips as his fingers were bare millimeters away from the surface of the glowing stuff. He tried to recall all that Pyrite knew of it.

“Let’s see. Can’t eat. Will make Goblins horribly sick—goes straight through system. Comes out as…ergh. Touching not too bad, but depending on the color can be dangerous. This is…fine. Tastes like—did he eat everything he ever found?”

The Hobgoblin shook his head. He prodded the mana sludge and found it was neither warm nor cold. Eerily so in fact; it felt strange on his fingers too. Absolutely none of the mana sludge would stick to his fingers. He could feel it, and it almost felt like incredibly smooth stone on his fingers. But unlike water or other liquids, it stuck to nothing but itself. Numbtongue thought Mrsha would love to play with it.

He summed up Pyrite’s notes in his head. Mana sludge. Inedible. Could come in other colors, but generally this color. Useless to Goblins—children would play with it, but mana sludge was hardly better than actual mud, and given the dangers of eating it compared to mud, Pyrite kept it away from them. He’d found no other uses for it. But he did know of its potential.

Yes, potential. That was why Pyrite left it alone. Give the mana sludge years or decades and it would slowly condense, crystalizing. Into mana stones.

“Ah. Name makes sense now.”

Numbtongue nodded. He stared at the vein. He must have tapped into the top of whatever amount of mana sludge there was, because it had already stopped leaking from the hole. And there was clearly more. He frowned.

Yes, if he came back here in a few years, the mana stone would harden, crystalizing into a vessel imbued with magic. The air would take care of that. But given that there was no other mana source about, it would probably turn into a vein of lightly magical quartz-like mana stone. Plentiful, but hardly potent in terms of mana.

Numbtongue didn’t have years to wait and Pyrite regarded the quartz varieties of mana stones as cheap anyways, so leaving it there didn’t appeal to him. What should he do with it, then?

“Scoop some up. Take it to the [Mages].”

Yes, that was the right choice. Because while Pyrite hadn’t seen much use for the mana sludge before now, he hadn’t ever thought of using it. Mining had been his hobby, and a fairly useless one in his mind until right before his passing. What would he have thought of the stuff now? How might he have used it?

Absently, Numbtongue felt about in his belt pouch. He pulled something out. The light in the caves changed, growing brighter. The purple glow of the mana stone was a consistent light, but it was dim compared to the bright glow of the bright, blue, almost viridian stone Numbtongue held in his hands. He stared at it.

“That’s not a mana stone. This is a mana stone. No. That not mana stone. This is mana stone.”

He smiled as he thought of Pyrite’s reaction to the mana stones used on Erin’s door. He would have called them ‘cheap’. The Hobgoblin only kept the most brilliant of mana stones in his collection, and this one, the brilliant blue stone, had been the one Numbtongue had taken from his mouth. The Hobgoblin studied it.

Pyrite had even known how to cut gems. This one had six facets; it was no perfectly symmetrical stone, but a lopsided gem, that nevertheless sparkled, cut cleanly on all sides and polished. Pyrite had enjoyed cutting stones; he’d even done art, or made dice out of rubies. A tiny emerald marble for a childhood friend that eventually became part of her necklace. She had died. Numbtongue could remember her smile.

The Hobgoblin dropped the glowing blue stone and pressed his hands against his forehead.

“Stop.”

He could remember the young Goblin’s nickname. He tried to push it away, but the memories flooded into his head. Too many, too fast to repress. Stickhair. She always had sticks in her hair. She was a [Scavenger]. She’d been part of Tremborag’s tribe, one of those sent to scavenge or steal as opposed to raid.

Back when he’d been young, Pyrite had been press-ganged into serving as both [Warrior] and [Scavenger]. Later, he’d become a permanent scavenger when they’d found he had a nose for finding pretty gems. The Goblin hadn’t seen the value in the gems that Tremborag loved so much and his lieutenants adorned themselves with, but he’d squirreled one away and carved it into a gem for Stickhair. And she had smiled and he’d been struck with that.

They’d had sex on a day in the middle of fall. She’d jumped on him, and he, young, and passionate, had wanted the same thing. They were still both growing, and both became Hobs around the same time.

The emerald marble was given a small hole for a necklace she wore, and each time Pyrite brought her a new stone, she would smile and sometimes that led to warm nights. Other times she or he would find someone else. They were young. But Pyrite remembered the smell of her teeth, plucking a twig from her—

“Stop!”

Numbtongue shouted. The cave rang with sound and the memories stopped as he pounded his head against the wall. His head burst with pain and Numbtongue staggered back. But it stopped the memories.

Panting, the Goblin sat down. He stared blankly ahead of him, still remembering another Goblin’s life. His hands shook uncontrollably as he felt at his head.

“Too much. You gave me too much.”

He whispered at Pyrite. He wasn’t angry at him. But that rush of vivid experiences had been too real. The [Bard] sat there, panting, until the soft glow of the two gems and the mana sludge calmed him. He stared at the glowing liquid, felt around on the ground, and picked up the now slightly dusty blue mana stone. Numbtongue stared at it. Then he popped it into his mouth and chewed.

“Ow.”

After a few seconds, Numbtongue spat the mana stone back out. His teeth hurt. The mana stone was way tougher than your average rock. How had Pyrite ever eaten the damn things?

The memories were his gift. The experiences with Stickhair, knowledge of the earth, even information about what everything tasted like and how badly it would mess up your poos—all of it was Pyrite’s gift to Numbtongue. But it was the knowledge of gemstones that the Hobgoblin Chieftain had considered too important to be lost.

What Pyrite had known before his death was this: you could use magic without being a [Mage]. With gemstones. He had consolidated his [Mining Chieftain] class into a [Magestone Chieftain] one. He hadn’t found out the potential of the class, but he had entrusted Numbtongue with the knowledge.

But Numbtongue feared he wasn’t the Goblin that Pyrite was. He didn’t think as deeply. He had not lived as long. And he had no idea how to use the powers of the gemstones, even if he could figure out a way to crunch this one with his teeth.

How would a [Bard] use magical gemstones? How would anyone?

Numbtongue sighed. He wiped the saliva-covered blue gemstone on his clothes, spat out the dirt in his mouth, and had a thought. Maybe…he was doing this wrong.

“Pyrite ate gemstones. But Pyrite was a big eater. I don’t eat rocks. Anymore. So…what do I do?”

Numbtongue’s eyes went to the guitar lying on the ground. A Rockmite was investigating it. The Hobgoblin stood up and the insect fled. He picked up the guitar and ran his claws down the strings.

A guitar. An instrument made by Gnolls, but very similar to the ones in Erin’s world. In fact, he recalled Erin comparing his guitar to one she was familiar with.

“Except, instead of an electric guitar, yours is actually electric, Numbtongue! Uh, don’t play it close to me. I don’t like static electricity.”

He smiled a bit and played a simple chord, plucking the strings with his long fingers. His nails were untrimmed, but Numbtongue had carefully bit them shorter on his playing hand because it made a better sound. Unlike Drakes, Goblins had something closer to Human fingers. Numbtongue had no idea how a Drake would manage a string instrument with their claws and very reptilian nails. He was impressed Gnolls could play, but then, their paws were actually quite dexterous.

“Hmm. Song. Song…”

Numbtongue stared blankly ahead as he searched for a proper tune. Then he had it. His random strumming became intentional. He began to play a quick, snappy tune. And the sound that came from his guitar changed.

[Electric Chords]. No [Lightning Melody] because Numbtongue didn’t want to call down lightning in the cave, even if he could. But the sound the guitar gave out crackled, and the chords changed to something almost approaching the crackling of thunder.

The silent cave filled with sound as Numbtongue began to play faster. It was a self-taught riff; everything he played was self-taught, actually. He’d learned a number of songs from Erin’s home, but he’d had to come up with the melodies based on her vague humming. Numbtongue played low on the chords, an echoing beat.

He was trying to call on the power of the stone resting on top of the guitar. Numbtongue could see the gemstone glowing, a bright viridian. But was it glowing brighter? Was he calling on the magic?

Time to really play. The Hobgoblin’s fingers danced faster. And a different kind of light began to fill the cave.

Flashes of bright lightning. Sparks of electricity shot from the chords as Numbtongue played them, lighting up the cave in flashes of light. The simple strings flashed with blue lightning, lighting up the guitar. The Rockmites in the area scurried away in alarm.

Numbtongue grinned wildly. The cave rolled with sound for a minute. Then five. His playing reached a fever’s pitch. He began the most complex solo he, knew, and the sound roared. And the gem—

Did nothing. Numbtongue stopped, looking at the blue gemstone with a miffed expression. He prodded it hopefully.

Nothing. Okay. Well, that was a new piece of information. Music was not the answer. At least, music from his guitar wasn’t doing anything to the stone. Numbtongue sighed, and looked around.

“Maybe just ask the [Mages] what the mana stones do. Why didn’t I do that earlier? Oh. I don’t like Pisces. Or Falene.”

Too much sniffing and rolling of the eyes. And that superior tone. Numbtongue grumbled to himself. He actually liked Revi, though. Moore scared him. Ceria was…attractive. Anyone who knew what bugs tasted like was attractive to Goblins. But Numbtongue, er, liked her dirty blonde hair, it not being a color among Goblin hair. As for Typhenous—

“Gah!”

Numbtongue’s foot suddenly encounter a jolt and went numb. He leapt backwards, swearing, and stared at what his foot had just touched. What was—

The mana sludge? The mana sludge had shocked him! The Hobgoblin stared at it. The little puddle of liquid had just given him a jolt of electricity! Why? And—was it…yellower?

Yes! It was! In fact, it was now a very light yellow, and Numbtongue could swear the little lights caught in the liquid were now moving faster. Almost as if…he squinted, keeping his face back from the liquid. Almost as if there were tiny jolts of lightning running through the stuff now.

Slowly, curiously, Numbtongue reached out. He hesitated, but he’d already touched it once. So, carefully he brought his finger closer, closer—

About two inches away from the mana sludge, Numbtongue saw a blue bolt of electricity arc out of the stuff and hit his finger. He jerked his hand back, swearing. It was electrified! He’d just gotten another jolt!

Shocking stuff. Numbtongue sat back, rubbing his ironically numb finger and foot and thinking. Well, he’d just turned the mana sludge into another variant Pyrite was familiar with. If the mana sludge was different colors, it had different effects. For instance, the Hobgoblin had once found a red variant of the stuff that had been so hot he could set fires with it. He’d had a wonderful time using it as an impromptu fire starter until an unfortunate incident with a forest…

“Electricity. Guitar. [Electric Chords]. Mana sludge.”

Numbtongue stared at the stuff. He stared at his guitar, and the chords which no longer sparked with lightning. Then he stared at the mana sludge. He grinned. He was going to need a jar. And…gloves.

—-

The tavern was called Tails and Scales. Or maybe it was a pub. Erin wasn’t one for socializing in either, so she had no idea what the difference was. Nor did she like beer, a fact that had vaguely offended some of her friends. And her father. But Erin liked the drink in front of her. It was some kind of rum mixed with a sweet, chilled liquid that was separate from the rum. Every time Erin took a gulp, it ran down her throat, burning and sweet.

A bit of food went in her stomach as well. Bits of chicken, breaded and glazed, sprinkled with bits of crunchy pork. Each bite was delectable and Erin felt it warming her up. But the food didn’t settle in her stomach or weigh her down; it anything, she felt more awake with each bite.

It was probably thanks to a Skill. And the drink was doing something to Erin’s mood as well. Each gulp made her feel better. She looked across the bar at a Gnoll with black fur streaked a bit with grey. He was a [Bartender]. Rufelt. And sitting next to Erin was Lasica, a [Chef]. The two were a married couple. They’d dragged Erin about the city before revealing they owned a very popular establishment. In the same business as Erin.

And they’d called her a rookie. Erin was half-fixed on that, half-frowning over something she’d realized, and a third half was listening to a commotion outside. Someone was shouting—several someones, actually.

“Wait, rookie?”

Erin looked at Rufelt. The Gnoll grinned at her, baring his teeth in a Gnoll’s smile.

“Oops. Lasica my dear, you might have offended Erin.”

“There’s nothing offensive about speaking the truth. Give me the bright pink stuff with that Balerosian white you did up last night.”

The Drake woman looked unconcerned as she pointed across the bar. Rufelt fetched a proper wineglass out, filled it with a white wine, and then added a shot of a vibrant pink liquid from a glass container. Erin blinked. The glass container had a spigot, also made of glass. And it was one of a row of similar vessels, all containing different liquids. All probably alcoholic. Some were glowing. One was resting on the top of the container, and it had been flipped upside down.

“Here you are. A Jungleblood Sunrise. I wish you’d remember the names.”

Lasica shrugged. She snagged the glass as it spun down the slick counter past Erin. The white wine (which was in fact slightly yellow and green, in defiance of proper sense) and pink liquid were spinning together. The Drake rolled her eyes as she drank half and sighed, visibly relaxing.

“Ancestors, that’s nice. But you know I don’t remember any of the silly names you and your bartending friends come up with. Can I get another? Iced?”

Erin opened her mouth to protest. Several things, in fact, but Rufelt was faster. He snagged another wineglass from behind him as he spun, filled the glass with pink stuff in the same motion, and then pulled open a drawer behind the bar. Erin blinked. Ice cubes, or rather, ice chunks since they weren’t nearly as tidy in form as cubes, appeared in the wine glass. The white wine poured on top and the glass spun past Erin again.

Literally spinning. She watched as the pink liquid swirled up and the wine downwards, forming a vortex around the ice. The glass came to rest perfectly in front of Lasica, contents still spinning in a miniature vortex. She did not look impressed.

“What is it with you and spinning your drinks, recently?”

The Gnoll sighed.

“It looks like a lot of fun. And it is! And it’s not my ‘bartending friends’, love of my life. It’s all [Bartenders]. I didn’t invent the name; a Balerosian [Bartender] came up with Jungleblood Sunrise herself. A pity, because I would have called it something less confusing.”

“Mm. Why do they call it that? This is hardly the color of blood.”

Lasica pointed to the pink and greenish-yellow liquid.

“Uh, excuse me—”

Erin broke off, because she wanted to know the answer. Rufelt shrugged.

“Apparently it’s not referring to blood, but a type of flower. You see, it weeps it’s…what would you call the stuff in flowers? Nectar? No, the wet stuff. Anyways, it weeps it in the morning, so when the sun rises, it catches the light and looks quite similar to that. Pink on yellow and green.”

“Fascinating. Also, completely pointless.”

Lasica drained her first glass and started on the second. Erin stared between her and Rufelt as he sighed. She waved a hand and both looked at her. Rufelt grinned sheepishly.

“Excuse me, Erin. We sometimes get lost in ourselves. We’re not used to company before the bar opens.”

“Oh, no problem. Uh—a few questions. First, rookie? Second, I’m not used to people being nice to me and feeding me. That’s my job. Third, we call putting alcohol in ice ‘on the rocks’ where I come from. Do you do that? And fourth—is that stuff floating upside down? Is—is it antigravity alcohol? I’m fine with any of these questions being answered, by the way.”

Both Rufelt and Lasica looked at the upside-down liquid Erin was pointing to. They paused as they considered Erin’s questions. Rufelt eyed his wife. She eyed him back, and her tail wagged a bit, although her lips only moved up slightly. Rufelt stroked his chin thoughtfully.

“On the rocks? Hm. I like that. I think I’ll use that from now on. It has a…good sound to it, yes? And that is one of my magical liquids. I’m not sure about er, anti-gravity, but it floats! It’ll go straight up and it’s a devil to mix with drinks unless you can do it right. Want a taste?”

“Can I? Wait, how do I drink it?”

“Let’s find out, shall we?”

Lasica rolled her eyes as Rufelt snagged another tumbler. She leaned over to Erin, smiling a bit. She still had quite a presence, and Erin wondered if all middle-aged Drakes were like that. Tekshia was certainly intimidating, although she was even more no-nonsense and somewhat abrasive, too.

“We didn’t intend to drag you around, Erin. I apologize again for that, but we had good cause. We did want to meet you—that was always part of the plan. As for taking care of you, well, why not?”

“But that’s my job.”

Erin protested weakly. Rufelt was mixing two liquids in the tumbler before he approached the upside-down stuff. He paused there and took a breath. Lasica watched him with Erin.

“So? We see someone in distress, we usually invite them in for a drink. Especially if it looks like they’re having a bad day. Like you. I could practically sense that you needed some of my pick-me-up food. Have another bite, by the way. It’s [Comfort Food], designed to help. But save your appetite; I’ll make you a splendid lunch. Rufelt, you’d better not spill that! What was it, eight gold per fluid ounce?”

“Eight—”

Erin stared at the liquid in horror. But Rufelt only glared mildly back at his wife.

“Thank you for reminding me. Just give me one second. And here—”

His hand blurred. Erin saw the tumbler go up, and the half-filled liquid turn upside down. But before gravity could take effect, the spigot opened and a splash, just a splash of the upside-down liquid (bronze, semi-transparent, and quite quick), came flying upwards. It mixed with the other liquid and Rufelt twisted the tumbler right-side up.

“Mixing.”

He had a strange metal rod about the size of a thermometer in his paw. He stirred the drink vigorously, and then placed it on the bar and slid it towards Erin. She stared at the liquid—the drink was close to black.

“It’s basic, strong, and a bit sour. You don’t have to finish it, but mixing sugary stuff with the Dwarfrain isn’t something I want to do. But if you’re going to take a sip, make it quick.”

Rufelt advised Erin. She stared at him, and then realized the liquid in the cup was rising up!

“It’s floating!”

“Well, what did you expect?”

“But how do I…”

Erin didn’t bother to wait for a reply. She lifted the cup, and the rising liquid floated up towards her lips. She sipped the stuff, made a face because it was strong and bitter, like one of those stupid lagers that Bevussa liked, and then gagged.

“Itsh!”

“Keep swallowing. Don’t let it win! It’ll give up after a second.”

Lasica laughed as Erin’s throat tried to force the liquid down and it kept coming back up. At first Erin was horribly reminded of throwing up, but then it was actually sort of fun—until the liquid lost whatever was keeping it floating and it went straight down her throat. She began coughing as Lasica patted her on the back.

“Fun, isn’t it? Rufelt has a collection of these silly drinks. He’s not just a [Bartender], after all. He’s got an advanced version of the class.”

“Agh! It burns! What do you mean, advanced version? What class is it?”

“That would be telling, I’m afraid.”

Rufelt snagged the tumbler and took drink of the liquid threatening to float past Erin’s head. She let him have it; one sip was enough.

“Telling classes is a bit too personal for people we’ve just met. Even an [Innkeeper] in the same line of work. But I’ll tell you for nothing that both he and I have…rare versions of our class. The kind you only get past Level 30. And so do you, I imagine. Rookie.”

Lasica offered Erin a sip of her drink. Erin took it, coughed again, and sighed.

“That’s good. I’m not a rookie! Am I?”

“You might have a lot of levels, Miss Human. But you seem like one to us. And it’s not about levels. Here. I know you can probably drink anything I serve all day and all night—my [Bartender]’s senses are telling me you’re probably immune to my alcohol—but have this.”

Erin blinked at the next cup that appeared in front of her. She sniffed it, tasted it experimentally and found…it was water. She began drinking it down as Lasica offered her another peanut butter and chocolate ball.

“Snack?”

“That’s chocolate. Where’d you get that? No one I talked to knew anything about it.”

The Drake blinked in surprise. Rufelt blinked as he cleaned the finished cups.

“You know about chocolate? Well, color me impressed. This came right from Baleros. A new thing—well, relatively. We’ve had cocoa for ages, but some [Chef] over there started experimenting, and, well, I got some with my latest shipment. We’ve a deal that sends goods straight from a [Merchant] in Baleros to the city. One of the things you need to acquire. Rookie.”

Erin blinked at Lasica. She opened her mouth, and the Drake popped a piece of her breaded chicken in there. Erin blinked, at first with mild outrage, but then she realized Lasica was treating her like a kid. Rather than make her mad, it was almost pleasant. There was something affectionate in Lasica’s teasing tone. And she was twice Erin’s age. Then Erin thought about what she’d said.

“Wait, a trade route from Baleros? That has to be…”

“Thousands of miles? Difficult to get someone to regularly ship from the ports all the way to Pallass? Expensive? If your answer was all of the above, that’s only half of the problems. Whenever the Drowned Men start raiding ships, or there’s a war, we get cut off.”

“Which is why we have a huge store of everything Lasica and I need in a part of Melinni’s private warehouse. The one we didn’t show you and not many people know about. That’s something else you need. I’d say a warehouse or some kind of area with runes of preservation first, right Lasica? Connections second.”

“Oh, agreed. Here’s what most [Innkeepers] we know agree on, Erin. The ones who’re actually smart, anyways. First you need to lock down a healthy supply of food. Not just enough for next week, but for months. Enough rare ingredients to weather any storm. Of course, you’ll expand your inventory slowly—”

Rufelt held up a cautioning paw.

“—don’t rush your rare ingredients. We did that once and sold for far too little. Focus on, say, a basement with runes of preservation and basics, like milk, grain, meat—enough for six months based purely off that. It is vital in case the supply of food plummets.”

“How?”

Erin couldn’t imagine that happening in a city like Pallass, with huge storehouses full of preserved food. Lasica grimaced.

“Easier than you think. Melinni’s got runes of preservation, but they don’t stop insects. In fact, fresh meat makes it worse. You can still contaminate food—it just stays preserved, which means entire batches of meat we thought were good can be off if, say, the cattle were all sick. And in times of plague, or general famine…”

“Pallass can feed itself, but with a million mouths, it still has to ration. And it does not open its gates to other cities. It couldn’t if it wanted to. There are simply too many mouths out there. I wish we had more storehouses, but Melinni and Pallass’ [Quartermasters] are working off of centuries of investment. So food first. At the very least, you won’t be short of meat or so on during the winter. Oh, and stock up on firewood. I hear that’s an issue around Liscor.”

Rufelt sighed. Erin looked between him and Lasica. The shouting from outside was still going on. Someone was shouting for the Watch.

“Um. I have a basement full of corpses, so I don’t know about the basement thing. But I have a [Field of Preservation] around my inn—”

“What?”

Lasica shot up in her chair. She stared at Erin and then at her husband. Rufelt’s jaw dropped open. The next moment he was glancing at the door. He leaned forwards and Erin leaned back a bit at the expression his face.

“A word of advice, Erin? Don’t mention that again. There are people who would target you for that Skill alone.”

“Field of—that is such a cheap Skill—”

Lasica groaned and covered her face with her claws. She looked at Rufelt.

“Imagine how much gold we could have saved with that! And how many accidental—the number of times we’ve had a rune scratched and not noticed it, I can’t count!”

Rufelt nodded. He looked at Erin seriously.

“I appreciate the trust, but I don’t think that was trust so much as naiveté, Miss Erin. Be warned; we could have been the wrong couple to tell that to.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

Erin blushed. Rufelt was scolding her, albeit gently. The Gnoll nodded, still half-frowning.

“No other mention of Skills, either. I’d hate for a wagging tail or tongue to reveal something truly important.”

“Basement full of corpses?”

Lasica had caught onto the first bit Erin had said. She stared at Erin. The [Innkeeper] gulped.

“I’m not a serial killer! I uh, just have a Selphid guest—”

“—and she wants to store bodies in your inn. That’s fairly ingenious. Melinni actually had a similar offer, but she wasn’t about to have dead bodies lying next to her merchandise. But in an inn? If you were in Baleros, I’d first ask how much you wanted to be the Selphid-only inn. But if you were fine with that, you could make a fortune just renting your place out to dead bodies. But that’s a specialized type of [Innkeeper] I don’t think you want to get into.”

The Drake [Chef] shook her head. Erin hesitated.

“Wait, so what kind of [Innkeeper] do you think I should be? Because I’m…er…well, I can’t say, but I’m something.”

Rufelt eyed Erin.

“Hm. A class consolidation? That means you’re at least Level 20. No—don’t correct me.”

Lasica nodded. There was a slight flush to her cheek scales, whether from excitement or the drink, Erin couldn’t tell.

“This is all above-board advice, Erin. We like you, but we’ve known you for about an hour. So let’s continue down the list, shall we, Rufelt? First storage. You should invest in some runes of preservation. They’re worth three or four times the gold you spend, even if it’s a pain to get an [Enchanter]. And if some Ancestors-damned, lucky [Innkeeper] gets an entire field of—”

She put her head down on the bar. Rufelt patted his wife on the arm and took over.

“You might have levels, Miss Solstice, but an inn, tavern, or any establishment like ours thrives on more than that. You need to be original. From what I understand, your magic door is a first step there, but you should cultivate some signature dishes. Lasica and I boast the widest variety of dishes in Pallass, mainly because of our Balerosian ingredients. Plus, alcohol and dinner being prepared by experts in the field is a tough combination to beat.”

“Even if a certain [Innkeeper] can give his clientele a night worthy of any [Lord] in a Terandrian mansion for a fraction of the price.”

Lasica grumbled under her breath. She sat upright, sighing.

“But I mean what I said about finding a connection. Ours was a chance meeting, but we sprang on the opportunity to have a highly-leveled friend in Baleros. And it’s paid off for us—and him. Cultivate friends. Your clientele is a good place to start, but there are always people looking out to make strong friends, and an [Innkeeper] as famous as you might start getting some offers. Be careful of whom you trust.”

“But don’t turn down a good opportunity. We could have been affiliated with one of the largest Gnoll tribes in the continent if we hadn’t let that opportunity slip us by.”

Rufelt sighed. Erin’s head swiveled from him to his wife. She felt like she needed to write this all down!

“What’s next, Rufelt?”

“Security? Guests. Hrm…ah, investing money.”

“Right! Security. You want—”

“There he is, officer! Walking around, just like that! Arrest him! It shouldn’t be allowed! There are children on the streets! I don’t care if he’s—”

A loud voice from outside cut the Drake off. She frowned at the door then shook her head.

“Ah. I think I know who that is.”

“Who?”

Erin peered at the door. There were glass windows, and she could see a crowd gathered outside. The loud voice had come from right outside the door, and Erin saw several of Pallass’ [Guardsmen] escorting someone past them. Guardsmen for a reason, as it turned out. Erin saw a figure in the center of them, being pushed forwards. Two of the [Guardsmen] were holding a blanket up, but it slipped and she caught a glimpse of…

“Aw.”

“Dead gods!”

“Hey.”

Erin and Rufelt recoiled, the girl in shock, the Gnoll in disgust. Lasica just raised her brows.

The Drake being arrested was very naked. He had dusky yellow scales, and he was slim. Erin could hear him protesting loudly to the [Guardsmen].

“I just misplaced my clothes! It was an accident! I would have put them on. Eventually.”

The [Sergeant], or whomever was leading the group glared at his ward, making sure only to meet his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. How many times is this? Come on, you’re spending another night in the cells. Move it along people! Nothing to see here.”

There was a burst of laughter from outside and the [Sergeant] flushed. A female voice—a Gnoll, in fact, shouted loudly.

“There’s everything to see! This is absurd! Disgraceful…”

Erin stared as the nudist Drake was finally taken out of view. She turned to Lasica. She looked amused and resigned. Rufelt was just shaking his head.

“Who was that? Or what was that? No, wait. My question is: is that normal?”

“Only if he’s about.”

Rufelt grumbled to himself. Lasica nodded. With a mix of shame and twisted civic pride, she pointed at the door.

“Erin, that was our resident Named Adventurer who just got arrested. Saliss of Lights. I’d explain, but…okay, security. You want at least a few good [Bouncers], [Guards], or whatever. I heard a rumor you’ve got Hobgoblins working at your inn?”

“I—I did. I only have one now. But hold on, that was—”

“Okay. Well, you want someone. Even if you have Skills, you want someone. That goes for staffing as well. Finding a good support [Barmaid] or [Barkeep], or someone to take up the slack really helps. I suppose it’s less pressing for you since you are an [Innkeeper]—”

“A Named Adventurer? And he’s a stripper?”

“That would imply he normally has clothes. Right. I don’t know if you know this, Erin, but [Innkeeper] is a generalist class in a sense. You see, it’s not like a [Bartender]. Rufelt has some overlap with your job, but his area of influence and tasks are more specialized. So he’ll make far better alcohol than you, but he doesn’t have a skill that affects the entire tavern. Or gives him a stupid field.”

“But I can make some fantastic drinks. And some of them have effects. Like the one I gave you at the start. I can cheer someone up, make a drink that gives energy or knocks someone out, and I can even handle liquids that normal bartenders can’t. For instance, a Level 20 [Bartender] couldn’t even mix that floating drink I gave you.”

Erin stared at both husband and wife. She looked at the door, pointed at it, and gave up. The Drake and Gnoll stared at her, friendly, helpful for no other reason than…they were good people. And utterly determined not to answer any questions about the naked Named Adventurer. Erin sighed.

“Okay. Fine. What about guests? And uh, do you have a piece of paper?”

—-

“…and a dedicated clientele is important. You can be open to all, like we are, but you’d better be the best. From what you’ve said, it sounds like you want adventurers as your main revenue base, is that right?”

“I…I mean, it’d be nice.”

An hour later, Erin’s head hurt, but she had two full pages of cramped and slightly blotched notes from all Rufelt and Lasica had told her. They were full of tips, and Erin had realized she was full of questions.

“I didn’t know there was so much to know. I mean, about being an [Innkeeper]. I just got my class from cleaning a room. In an inn, obviously, but still. I had no idea how much I’ve missed.”

Rufelt laughed lightly.

“There’s nothing you need to know about being an [Innkeeper], Erin. That’s why you’ve done so well. But there’s experience, tips from others. And somehow, we doubted the [Innkeepers] in Liscor or Celum had been helping you out.”

Lasica nodded, absently reading over Erin’s shoulder.

“Adventurers travel about, which is a problem, but your door solves some of that. But you do need better security. And your golem idea is novel, I’ll grant you, but it is a pricey investment. And if you break one, that’s a lot of gold gone in a moment. Just look into some [Guards].”

“Got it. Maybe the Antinium?”

Lasica and Rufelt shuddered. Erin looked up.

“They’re nice! Really!”

“I find that very hard to believe. But then, I lived through the Antinium Wars. I do hear the Hive around Liscor is different from the rest. But let’s just say I won’t test that theory.”

“I’m going to bring Pawn through to Pallass someday. With Numbtongue. And Mrsha too, I guess. Uh—okay, that’s written down.”

Lasica squinted at the parchment.

“If you say so. Your handwriting is atrocious.”

“Hey, I’m drunk!”

“No you’re not.”

“…You’re right. Okay, what about the innkeepers? Why wouldn’t they help me?”

Lasica and Rufelt exchanged a look.

“Ooh. She doesn’t know, Lasica. In that case, we should probably introduce her later.”

“To the good [Innkeepers] in Pallass, at least. For another day.”

Erin waved a hand in front of their faces. She didn’t mind the husband-wife talk they did, or the fact that Lasica’s tail twined around Rufelt when they stood together, but—okay, it was obnoxious sometimes.

“Know what?”

“Innkeepers talk amongst each other. That includes tavern owners and people who manage hostels, and so on, by the way. It depends on where you are and who you know, but I could, say, get in touch with someone in Celum if I had an issue that extended there.”

Lasica explained matter-of-factly to Erin. Rufelt nodded.

“It’s all informal—nothing like the Merchant’s Guild or Mage’s Guild or so on—but it does exist. In some cities, [Innkeepers] work together. Like in Celum.”

“Liscor’s not like that. But they do share something. And we know this because both groups don’t like you very much. Celum especially.”

Lasica sighed. Erin blinked at them. She remembered Miss Agnes mentioning there was a group of [Innkeepers] in Celum, but it had slipped her mind. Rufelt nodded sympathetically.

“They might cause you trouble, but you shouldn’t worry too much, yes? You have a magic door and they don’t. Just bear it in mind.”

“Great. Something else to write down. Thank you, by the way.”

Erin grumbled to herself. Lasica laughed lightly. She looked at Erin, and then at the window.

“Hm. We’re into early evening. Almost time to open up. And I need another drink.”

“Water for you. You need to cook Erin one proper meal and one more drink would make you too tipsy for your best. Besides, we have a business to run tonight.”

Sternly, Rufelt handed Lasica a glass of water. She sighed, but sipped from it. Erin looked at the two.

“No, seriously. This is so helpful. Thanks for being so nice. And I—I didn’t do anything to deserve it.”

“Besides save a city? Besides building your inn from practically nothing? Don’t be silly, girl.”

Lasica walked past Erin. She had a wet cloth in hand and she was polishing something in the center of the room. Tails and Scales was very bar-focused, but it had a number of tables. And, Erin had overlooked this, one of the tables in the center of the room was quite strange. It had no chairs around it and the top was flat and black. And it was a solid block, not a table at all, in fact. Erin stared as Lasica checked something, opening a door in the side of the black…whatever it was.

“But—still. Thank you. No one’s been so nice to me before. I should—I mean, I can’t pay you, but I’ll return the favor—”

Erin stammered. She caught Rufelt looking at her oddly. Lasica just shook her head and turned to filling the door with something. Wait. Coal? But Erin was looking at Rufelt’s odd expression.

“What?”

“Erin Solstice. We don’t want money. And you may consider this a favor, but we would rather you didn’t. We did this because we wanted to meet you. Even without that, if I had seen you crying on the street, I would have done just this. Do I need a reason to make you a drink?”

The Gnoll looked at Erin. The young woman hesitated.

“No. Of course not. It’s just…it’s been so long since I met someone who just wanted to…help me.”

Rufelt’s eyes widened a bit. He looked up and Erin knew he was meeting his wife’s eyes.

“Has it really been that long?”

“No. Yes. I’ve met great people. Who helped me out a lot. The Horns, the Halfseekers…but they’re guests. The last time someone just…helped me when I was in pain was—maybe it was Klbkch and Relc?”

A soft intake of breath from behind Erin.

“The Slayer and the Gecko of Liscor?”

Erin laughed at that. She felt incredibly sad and welcomed at the same time.

“No. Just Relc and Klbkch! Klbkch was—he gave me a healing potion for my hand. And Relc? He’s a jerk, and a good guy sometimes. And I think he’s better. He killed the closest thing Numbtongue had to a father and Klbkch is really mean to Pawn. But they helped me without asking for anything. So did Krshia, but that was back then. Since then I help people. I have friends.”

“But you’re the one who supports them most of the time, isn’t that so?”

“I guess.”

Erin looked down at the bar’s countertop. It was very smooth. Very beautiful wood. She heard a footstep, and then felt a light touch on her shoulder. Lasica looked down at her.

“That’s what an [Innkeeper] is. They give shelter to their guests. The best ones do more. I’ve never wanted the job. A [Cook] only has to do one thing. A [Barkeep]’s job ends with their shift. I think you need a break, Erin.”

“I do. I know.”

Erin stared down at her inky, messy notes. A paw reached out and gently tugged them away from her. Rufelt put them behind him.

“Well, Erin. Consider this an invitation. Whenever you wish, for whatever reason, you may leave your inn and come here. Don’t worry about debts or payment. When you need someone to look after you, come here. You’ll always be welcome in Tails and Scales.”

“What he said.”

Erin looked up at a smiling Drake face. She saw Rufelt leave the bar. And her eyes overflowed. But they weren’t bad tears. She was just a bit overwhelmed. Just a bit tired. So Erin cried at the bar as Rufelt panicked a bit and Lasica found her a warm towel to wipe her face on. Then there was another comforting drink.

And the tavern opened. By the time the first Drake [Barkeep], one of Rufelt’s apprentices, came in, Erin’s tears were dried. Two [Servers], a Gnoll and Drake joined the mix. All of them introduced themselves to Erin.

“This is my apprentice, Usshi.”

Rufelt introduced the [Barkeep], who gave Erin a smile that made you want to smile back. And the two [Barmaids]. People were already waiting at the door when the Gnoll [Server]—a class for someone who was just starting out their career in that area—opened the door.

“Erin Solstice. We meet again.”

The young woman blinked at Maughin and several of his fellow [Smiths] and apprentices. She stood up to greet him, then Xif, and to Lasica’s displeasure, Melinni. They’d all come to talk more about the Pallass issue, but after a quick discussion where Lasica leaned in, they didn’t invite Erin. They filled the tables, talking to Lasica as more Drakes, Gnolls, Dullahans, and even a Garuda couple came in.

Some were [Mages]. Others [Scribes], [Weavers], [Potters], and others that Lasica and Rufelt knew by name. There was even a [Hauler] who’d reached such a high level that he’d become a [Cargomaster]. The Garuda pair were [Aerial Dancers]. Erin met them all. Rufelt served drinks, some plain shots, others glowing, magical, wine and spirits and occasionally, juice.

He did it quickly, with a flourish, sometimes suggesting a change in the order that was always accepted. He knew his customers. And he was flawless—except for his fondness for spinning the drinks about. He only stopped that when Maughin complained about the third in a row.

And then Lasica started cooking some appetizers, or an early dinner. She didn’t go into the kitchen. Rather, the kitchen came to her. A [Line Cook] came in to learn from her, and Erin saw why.

“A hibachi grill!”

“A hot plate table. Hands off.”

Lasica corrected Erin. She had been throwing coal into the furnace at the bottom of the table, and now she lit it. Erin stared as she tossed some oil on the table, and then some thin strips of meat. Almost at once they began to cook and she flipped them onto a plate.

“It’s—but—how? That’s from where I am! How did you—”

Rufelt grinned at Erin’s face.

“If there was ever a way to burn their food, Drakes would surely find it. Just be glad Lasica’s not cooking flambé. And order what you want! She can cook you up a wonderful bowl of these noodles, with some meat and fried vegetables…”

“C-can I have an egg?”

Lasica laughed. Erin had her egg. She had a lot of food, actually. Her stomach seemed to have forgotten its usual dimensions as she ate Lasica’s hot, delicious food greedily. And she found herself sitting next to Maughin, then Xif, and then others, talking to them. Not as an [Innkeeper] did to the guests, but as someone with all the time on their hands to pester Maughin about what was under his armor, or ask Xif about magical food, a topic he was only too happy to work with her on.

Erin laughed as Rufelt showed off at his bar, serving a flaming drink to a brave Gnoll, and then a crowd favorite—an alcohol that turned the entire glass invisible too. They let him make six drinks and then searched for them. Erin found one and it turned her tongue green as a bonus surprise.

And then the Dullahan walked in. Not one of Maughin’s [Smith] friends. Her armor was ceramic, painted white and green, and very beautiful. And she held a cello.