6.35 (1/2)

Day 54 – Ryoka

When the Wind Runner of Reizmelt woke up, she knew it would be another rainy day. Honestly, she was sick of them, but they were symptomatic of Izril in the spring. Wet.

And it was still better than Liscor, whose spring rain season was the thing of nightmares. Even so, as spring waned and became summer, the rains persisted. And yes, they were good for crops and all that. Ryoka was still tired of being wet.

She knew it would be a rainy day as soon as she woke to the drumming of rain on the roof above her room. But as Ryoka got up, she realized a few more things.

Firstly, she wasn’t in Reizmelt. She knew that because it was past dawn and Madain hadn’t been banging about, swearing and shouting for everyone to wake up!! Funny, but Ryoka almost missed that. And because her bed was freshly made, smelled of flowers, and the sheets had been washed by someone other than Ryoka.

She was in Walta, staying at the Rose’s Retreat, a very nice inn with a female [Innkeeper] who was accommodating and strict. Miss Iglesias Theroben had expressed a firm desire to Ryoka that her rooms not be sullied by impropriety, or any untoward advances towards her guests.

She obviously hadn’t been suspecting Ryoka of the latter, given how it seemed like most people in this world’s society didn’t acknowledge or even know about sexual orientations beyond male and female, but Ryoka was amused to know that the upstanding Miss Iglesias thought of Lady Bethal Walchaís as a paragon of virtue. She’d been too grateful for somewhere to sleep and for Miss Iglesias’ welcoming, if strictly proper inn, to shatter the woman’s beliefs.

That wasn’t her. And as Ryoka got up and dressed with the speed and efficiency that comes to people who live in a hurry, she realized one last thing: it was going to be a bad day to run. She could still do it, but it would be a bad day.

Not a bad bad day, to be clear. Ryoka felt good. A few days of rest had cleared the minor potion-sickness out of her veins and stomach and rejuvenated her after her now-famous run from Reizmelt to Walta, capital city of Lady Bethal’s lands. She felt good, today, in fact. Hungry. It was just that as soon as Ryoka had sensed, felt the wind outside howling in the rain, she’d known it was going to be a bad day.

Downstairs, the Rose’s Retreat was already bustling when the sleepy young woman exited her ground-floor room. Unlike other inns, the layout of this in more closely resembled one of the cheap motels Ryoka had ‘run away ’ to when she was sick of fighting with her father or trying to get her mother to agree to…anything. And like a good motel experience, breakfast was a buffet.

A very nice buffet. Ryoka saw the goat’s cheese being spread onto a bun first then she smelled some cooked sausage and saw a delicate spread of garden-grown vegetables, fresh from Miss Iglesias’ own soil. Her stomach rumbled but when she saw the somewhat portly, very gracious host, Ryoka stopped to greet her. There were such things as manners and Ryoka wanted to mind hers.

“Ah, Miss Ryoka Griffin. A fair morning to you! I trust you weren’t awoken unduly early? The blessed rain woke me up earlier than I would have liked, but you Runners do keep early hours.”

The woman sighed as she turned to greet Ryoka, goat-cheese and bun in hand. Ryoka eyed the bread and decided she was having that first, with some of the roasted meat. Miss Iglesias’ inn might not have had the random excitement that was an attraction or a deterrent in Erin’s inn, or the dirt-cheap prices and unique…personality that was Madain’s inn. But it was arguably better than both.

Ryoka knew that was an insult to Erin, but did she have a dedicated [Cook] with [Advanced Cooking] and a host of other Skills like [Rising Dough] or [Two Hour Warmth]. Maybe her inn had changed, but Ryoka saw a [Maid]—not a [Barmaid], just a [Maid]—delicately arranging a gentle-smelling bouquet next to the dishes of warm, delicious food. Still warm, thanks to that Skill and fresh as…

Ryoka’s mouth watered. Say what you will, and Erin did make a good pizza, but this was home-cooking and as much as you wanted of it.

Fresh and organic too, if that was your fancy. Ryoka would settle for delicious. She nodded politely to the smiling Miss Iglesias.

“Good morning to you too, Miss Iglesias. I’m not so sure it’ll be a fair one, though. The rain might clear up but you shouldn’t count on hanging anything out; the wind will be blowing hard all day.”

“Really? My [Gardener] friend swore her [Weathersense] told her it would be only rainy tomorrow, but perfect for gardening later on if I wore boots. But if anyone would know, it would be you, wouldn’t it?”

Miss Iglesias glanced out of one of her glass windows with a frown. Ryoka grimaced.

“I’m not an expert Miss Iglesias, so don’t quote me on it. If I’m wrong, I’d be delighted. But…uh, this breakfast looks lovely.”

“Oh! I’m terribly sorry. Go on and enjoy yourself by all means. I imagine you’ll want to be up and about. Will you be staying another day?”

The woman stepped aside so Ryoka could fill a plate and chat at the same time. Biting into her first cheese-and–sausage roll—Miss Iglesias stood on no customs aside from the bit about hanky and panky and horrifically graphic displays of sex—she swallowed and then replied

“I doubt it, Miss Iglesias. I have all my gear in my bag of holding here—I’m paid up, aren’t I?”

She patted the bag at her side. Miss Iglesias nodded.

“You’re free to leave, but I will keep your room open until tonight. If you wish to stay you need only return. You have been a good guest.”

“Thank you.”

Ryoka smiled gratefully. Miss Iglesias was used to travellers, being one of the more popular inns for travellers to stop by. She had any number of rooms available, but her keeping Ryoka’s open for a day was still generous.

Ryoka helped herself to a big breakfast—she might be eating rations on the road if she took the offer she’d gotten yesterday. She might have lingered to talk with Miss Iglesias, but a howl of wind against the windows made her, the innkeeper, and a few guests enjoying the early breakfast look up.

“What a storm. My garden will need no end of work after this.”

Exasperated, Miss Iglesias went to the window and peered outside. Ryoka grimaced, trying to imagine running in that but—her internal sense told her the wind was upset. But that didn’t correlate to the rain. Indeed, it was just a light sprinkle now. Ryoka brightened; she could handle that. And the noise made her realize something else.

“Ah, Miss Iglesias, I might be taking off now. I’m very grateful for your hospitality…

The woman turned and realized Ryoka was edging towards the door. She opened her mouth and then realized why Ryoka was in a hurry. So she smiled understandingly and reached out to shake Ryoka’s hand gently.

“Well, as I said, you’ve been very easy to look after. No messes, no blood or muck for my girls to tidy up—if you stop by Walta in the future, stay here by all means! I know you Runners, and I have no doubt I’ll see you again.”

Ryoka ducked her head, smiling.

“Thank you, Miss Iglesias. I’m normally around Reizmelt, but if I’m ever in the region for a delivery…”

She began to walk towards the door. But, too late, as Ryoka put one hand on the brass knob, she heard the sound she’d wanted to avoid. Clip-clop, clip-clop.

Ryoka cursed. Miss Iglesias sighed, as she turned to greet another guest. Ryoka opened the door; there was still time to get away before—

“Good morning, Miss Iglesias! Ryoka! Hey, Ryoka, wait!”

A Centauress walked into the room. That wasn’t a euphemism. She trotted in, her shod hooves clattering on the floorboards as she navigated her way through the cozy inn. A Centaur.

Perhaps, if you had never met one, the idea of the half-human, half-horse species would be exotic. Fascinating. And while that was certainly all true of the female Centaur, something else had to be pointed out. A Centaur was half-horse. And as such, the first consideration anyone in the nearby vicinity of a Centaur did was—

Both Ryoka and Miss Iglesias stepped hurriedly out of the way as the Centauress clattered forwards. Her hooves touched the floor lightly, but the Centauress was still over seven feet in height and she had to weigh…Ryoka thought about horses from her world. A ton?

At least. And this Centauress wasn’t even a big example of her species. Her horse parts didn’t resemble the huge draft horses, but rather a lighter riding horse. She had tan fur with a few large, brown spots, pale brown skin, and blonde-gray hair, cut short, but styled—the Centauress trotted closer and Ryoka leapt back again. She was bare foot and she had no intention of having her foot broken by a stray hoof!

“Charlay, watch the hooves!”

The Centauress caught herself and checked her hoof placement. She tossed her head dismissively.

“What? I’m nowhere near your feet. Stop being such a foal, Ryoka. Hey, good thing I woke up, right? I nearly missed you. But for the rain and I would have slept in!”

She gestured outside at the clouds, which had decided to dump one last time before giving up. Ryoka eyed the Centauress. She had a light shirt on her upper half, concealing the place where her waist met the horse parts. Her lower half was bare today, although Ryoka had seen Charlay wearing a half-skirt or full dress that covered her horse bits. She eyed the street, but it was too late. Charlay smiled at the [Innkeeper], who gave her a polite smile of her own.

“Fair day to you as well, Charlay. How was your sleep?”

“Good. Thanks for the extra pillows. My legs were hurting from the ground yesterday. Ooh! Food’s already out?”

She eagerly trotted over to the buffet and inspected it.

“Just what I wanted. Ryoka, stick around. I want to eat first.”

The Asian girl groaned. Charlay never woke up this early. Both times before she’d been up in the late morning. But after a second of staring out of the inn, she closed the door and walked back to the buffet. Miss Iglesias gave Ryoka a sympathetic smile.

“Hey, Charlay. Good to see you. I’m probably leaving today—”

“That’s fine. I’ll run with you to the Guild. Hey, you want this?”

The Centauress waved a bowl and Ryoka saw what she was eating for breakfast. It was a bowl of boiled, steaming…

Oats. As bland as licking wheat seasoned with white rice on top of unsalted porridge with a bit of whole-grain bread for that rare contrast in flavor. Ryoka and Miss Iglesias watched as Charley happily filled a bowl with the stuff and added some grains of brown sugar and bits of pepper flakes.

Ryoka resigned herself to another helping and took about four times what Charley had to add to a lovely browned sausage with some eggs. She liked the flavor and the pepper wasn’t so much hot as sweet to her palate. But Charlay blew out her cheeks halfway through her bowl.

“Hot! This is spicy stuff, Miss Iglesias! You should warn people or they might get indigestion!”

The Human woman raised her eyebrows, but only nodded and took Charlay’s suggestion ‘under advisement’. Ryoka waited as Charlay ate one bowl, then another, and coughed.

“I need to be going—”

“What’s the hurry? I’m done, I guess. Good food, Miss Iglesias. Thanks for putting it out for me.”

The Centauress craned her upper body to speak to the woman while her horse half shuffled around towards the door. Miss Iglesias pulled a chair out of the way; Ryoka just stood back. Charlay was bigger than Calruz, both in height and body. And in a building built for Humans, she was like an elephant. Or a horse.

“Not a problem my dear. Will you want supper? Or lunch?”

Charlay shook her head impatiently.

“I’m done. And I’ve paid my room; I don’t know if I’ll be back, but I’m packed up. Let’s go, Ryoka.”

She trotted towards the door without even saying goodbye. Ryoka went back to Miss Iglesias and shook her hand again.

“Thank you again, Miss Iglesias.”

“Best of luck, Ryoka dear. And you too, Charlay.”

“Oh. Yeah. Thanks!”

The Centauress turned her upper half, nearly out of the door. Ryoka sighed and followed her. She found the Centauress outside, stretching.

“Good food, right? I like staying at the Rose’s Retreat. It doesn’t have stairs and Miss Charlay gets oats just for me. You liked it?”

“Yup. It was great.”

“Awesome. Stay away from me. I don’t need you throwing up on me again.”

Ryoka paused as she stretched out her own legs. The Centauress smirked at her. She worked in the region around Walta as a well-known City Runner. And she was good at her job; so good that Ryoka had given up trying to lose her. Now the Centauress pointed in the direction of the Runner’s Guild.

“Come on, let’s run to the Guild. The streets aren’t that wet and the rain’s stopped. Last one there is a mule!”

So saying, she took off. Ryoka watched her go and kept stretching; after three dozen feet, the Centauress noticed Ryoka wasn’t following and galloped back. She scowled at the young woman.

“Slowpoke. Afraid to race me?”

“I’m stretching. And I’m not racing.”

“Afraid I’ll beat you again?”

Ryoka sighed.

“You’re a Centaur. I don’t race things with four legs.”

“That’s not what you said last time. Or the time before that. Come on, afraid I’ll beat you a third time?”

The young woman refused to rise to the bait. She took off running with a slow, contained pace, and after a moment, Charlay followed her. Then at least, Ryoka had some peace. She ran down the streets of Walta, still slick with rain and deserted for the moment. The rains had kept everyone indoors, and so the two female Runners proceeded down the street at a quick jog by Ryoka’s standards.

As they ran, Ryoka admired the city of Walta where she had been staying. She would be sorry to say goodbye to it. The streets were smoothed, and one in three buildings that Ryoka passed had glass instead of shutters. The city was lovely, like Amsterdam, but minus the canals and water. It was one of the most modern cities Ryoka had visited, aside from Invrisil, and the reason behind that was because Walta was about twice or three times as rich as Reizmelt.

“You’re so slow.”

Charlay complained as her hooves clattered across the stones. Ryoka sighed. She couldn’t even admire the city in peace. Not that she was one for admiration anyways; two more seconds and she’d have gotten bored. She looked at Charlay as her arms pumped at her sides; the Centauress was folding her arms and eying Ryoka as her legs easily kept pace.

That was another thing Ryoka had learned about Centaurs recently; because they could run and do things independently with their horse and human halves, they loved to chat while running. It was harder for Ryoka who was running with her entire body, but she could still respond.

“I just ate. You’re a horse.”

“Centauress. Don’t be rude.”

“Sorry, my mistake. You’re so different.”

Charlay bared her teeth, much like an angry horse would.

“We are! We’re intelligent, leveling creatures. Not like animals at all! Are you a monkey?”

“Fairly close. I’ll acknowledge the link and resemblance. You’re even closer. Half your body is horse. It’s pretty much the same thing.”

The Centauress turned scarlet. Ryoka grinned to herself—their relationship was already well established by this point too. Charlay was easy to annoy. The Centauress snorted angrily as she ran ahead of Ryoka.

“It is not the same thing. Do you think I’m like one of those things?”

She pointed down the street. Ryoka saw the rider and shifted left. Charlay made room and the rider rode down the right side of the street. He was riding a roan, a quite energetic one. It whickered as the two Runners ran past; Charlay flipped it off. The rider looked affronted, so Charlay cupped her hands and shouted back at him.

“Not you, the horse!”

“What was that about?”

Ryoka stared at Charlay. The Centauress folded her arms.

“He was checking me out. Damn animals.”

“You understood that horse? And you’re seriously saying you’re that different from them?”

Charlay looked blank.

“Obviously I can understand them. They’re animals. It’s not hard. You can’t understand monkeys? That’s your problem. I’m pretty sure they can understand me.”

“I—haven’t actually met that many monkeys.”

“Huh. I guess Izril doesn’t have that many. I saw them all the time in parts of Baleros. Hey! What’re you looking at?”

The female Centaur snapped at another rider’s horse passing by. Ryoka just shook her head. The streets were filling, and a good number of riders were filling it. More than average; Walta was a horse-city, catering towards treatment of the animals, saddles, stables, training, breeding, and more. The horses Walta produced were of a superior stock than most; if you wanted to get a proper warhorse or even a good riding horse, you’d look for a Walta horse or come to the city itself.

Horses. In a world where automobiles and mass-transport were wagons, they were incredibly valuable. They’d made Walta and Lady Bethal rich. These were her lands after all, and Ryoka had stayed in the city after making Bethal’s emergency delivery alerting her people of the rift between her and a number of factions in Izril. She was at war—in a political and to some degree, real sense—but the city was peaceful still.

“Charlay, you know I work around Reizmelt normally. I might be going back there today.”

Ryoka decided to broach the subject at last. The Centauress snorted.

“You might. Or, you might take that very lucrative delivery down south. Where was it again?”

“I thought personal deliveries were supposed to be personal. So what if I do? It’s none of your business. Why have you been dogging me for three days? Do you like me that much?”

“Hah! Don’t make me laugh. I’m just scoping out my competition. Everyone’s making a fuss about your little run from Reizmelt to Walta; I’m not impressed. You might have a few unique Skills, but let’s remember who the better Runner is here.”

“Me?”

“Me! Don’t get overconfident, Ryoka. I’m a well-known City Runner around here. I have a nickname! Dustrider Charlay. I earned it after running in this area for two years.”

“I have a nickname too—”

The Centauress glared at Ryoka as they turned left down a street.

“Shut up! See, that’s your problem, Ryoka. You’re infringing on my turf. And my theme.”

“Your theme.”

“That’s right. I was doing this first, so I have dibs on the dust theme. I don’t mind you being the Wind Runner, but if people call you Duststorm Ryoka—just because you can make a bigger cloud, doesn’t mean you get to take my nickname! I’m the Dustrider! Dustrider Charlay!”

For emphasis, Charlay slapped her chest. Ryoka just stared at her. She could have sworn Charlay was her age, maybe a bit younger. But the way she acted…Ryoka thought about being the adult, but it was too tempting.

“I hear they call you Dusty Charlie.”

The Centauress’ face went scarlet. Ryoka had to laugh. She saw Charlay stiffen, then gallop ahead. If she had a horse’s ears, Ryoka was sure they would have been flat. Charlay widened the gap between her and Ryoka until she was right in front of the girl and Ryoka wondered if she’d take off to the guild or just do that the entire rest of the way. Instead, the Centauress shouted.

“[Spray Hoof]!”

“No, don’t you d—”

Ryoka shouted in outrage, but it was too late. One of Charlay’s hooves kicked backwards, striking a handy clump of exposed earth on the street where a cobblestone had been uprooted. Normally she’d kick up a cloud of dust, hence her name. This time though, the result was a huge splatter of mud and water.

“Gah! Damn it, Charlay!”

The young Human woman stopped as the mud splattered her front and face. She wiped at it and Charlay trotted back, looking smug.

“Don’t insult me, Pukey. You threw up on me, remember? As far as I’m concerned, this is the least you deserve.”

Ryoka gritted her teeth. Then her eyes widened. She pointed.

“Oh shit. Is that a snake on the ground?”

“Gyaaaaah!”

The Centauress jumped and ran screaming from what was, in fact, a line of horse crap. She turned to Ryoka, shaking.

“Don’t joke about that! Snakes aren’t funny!”

Ryoka chuckled as she wiped the worst of the muck off her face. Charlay glared and Ryoka stepped back in case she tried to bite. The two regarded each other in the damp street. Ryoka sighed.

“Now I’m dirty. Truce?”

“Fine. Truce. Here.”

Charlay tossed something at Ryoka. The young woman blinked.

“What is it?”

“Drying stone. Use it on the mud. It’ll probably get all of it. Don’t worry if it runs out; they’re cheap.”

“Thanks.”

Ryoka did just that. The stone didn’t break or disintegrate, and she handed it back. The two ran on. Charlay huffed as she ran next to Ryoka.

“I can’t believe you’re so mean to me. All the time! And I was nice to you even though you were so rude at the start.”

“I’m an awful person. You should know that by now.”

Charlay hesitated.

“Well, you’re better than a lot of other Humans. No one else’ll talk to me, much less talk back. Half of you lot are too scared to talk! The other half just act like I’m an idiot, or…weird.”

“I don’t think there are many Centaurs on Izril.”

“There aren’t. But it’s not like I’m rare. There are just too many Humans! We’re all over the place in Baleros, especially the middle. The south’s mostly Lizardfolk and Gazers in the jungles. And Humans. You lot get everywhere. And the north is too cold for anyone but Dullahans.”

“But not many on Izril, right?”

“Nope. And it’s a shame. Izril has these lovely flat places, especially in the north. If it wasn’t for the need to cross the ocean on boats, I think there would be tens of thousands of us here.”

The Centauress shuddered. Ryoka regarded her thoughtfully. Three days had taught Ryoka a lot about Charlay, if only because the Centauress had stuck to her like glue. She had a horse’s palate for bland foods; she couldn’t handle spices and she went absolutely nuts for salty, savory stuff. She was afraid of snakes, had a temper, got seasick just staring at a bathtub—

Oh, and she held grudges.

“You know, if you didn’t keep insulting how fast I ran and calling me the ‘Puke Runner’, or ‘Pukey’, or ‘Ryoka the Vomitter’, I’d be nicer to you.”

Charlay turned her head and glared.

“You threw up. On me. Where’s my apology?”

“Lying somewhere on the road with the last fourteen apologies I gave you. Will you give it a rest? Why are you really following me? It’s not for the fun. Don’t you have a job to do? You haven’t made one delivery since I got here.”

“I don’t have to take jobs all the time. I’m a successful City Runner. What, do you spend all your coin after each delivery in the taverns?”

“No…”

“Then what’s the problem? Jeeze, why are you so rude? You’re the rudest Human I’ve met, you know. And that includes a lot of my clients!”

Ryoka sighed. Walta’s Runner’s Guild appeared on the edge of the city at last. It was sprawling, and had a stable attached—a lot of the local Runners used horses. It wasn’t economical for a lot of Runners, but the city was good for horses and there was a lot of flatland around. Charlay trotted in first, and didn’t hold the door open for Ryoka. To be fair, it would’ve been hard with her body shape, but she was at the [Receptionist]’s desk, pawing the floorboards when Ryoka walked over.

“We’re here! Hey Jilta! Ryoka’s here to take that personal request!”

Charlay called out loudly. Ryoka sighed as some of the Runners in the Guild looked up. She’d met a lot of them the last two days and some waved at her in a friendly way. She waved and smiled back and was grateful for Charlay’s presence for the first time; but for her and the others might have come over to talk to her.

It was true that Ryoka’s run had been noted, if not by the entire world than by the local Runners and those interested in such things. Her run hadn’t been the fastest, but it had been for a [Lady] of renown and Ryoka had beaten a number of groups aiming to intercept her. It hadn’t been easy; Ryoka had paid a price for using so many potions and calling on the wind. But she’d done it and the fruits of her rewards was the attention she gathered. And Charlay following her.

The [Receptionist] at the desk sighed as Ryoka stepped up. She gave Charlay a sharp look that the Centauress innocently returned.

“Charlay! You can’t announce things like that on Ryoka’s behalf, much less publicly! There are rules, you know!”

“I could do it in Baleros. They didn’t care there. Besides, everyone knows you can get information for free from the [Brokers].”

“Not in this Guild. If you’re not in line, step back. Runners get privacy.”

“What? But I—”

“Back, Charlay.”

The [Receptionist] pointed. Grumbling, Charlay did retreat until she probably couldn’t hear what was being said at the desk. The [Receptionist] watched her sharply and the Centauress innocently turned her head. The woman at the counter had dealt with the Centauress before, that was clear from the long-suffering sigh she let out. She looked at Ryoka apologetically.

“I’m sorry, Miss Griffin. Is she still following you about?”

“It’s fine.”

The [Receptionist], Jilta, the same woman who’d helped Ryoka on the first day by making her puke the potions that were poisoning her and getting the Knights of the Rose, gave Ryoka a rueful smile.

“She’ll get bored in time. She just…fixates on other City Runners, especially female ones around her age and level. She’s very competitive. Now, can I help you? Are you going to take the request from yesterday? The sender is ah, waiting on a reply.”

Jilta said it delicately, but Ryoka knew she was very interested. As interested as Charlay had been; the Centauress had bugged Ryoka all about it yesterday. A personal request? With money backed by two [Lords]? Asking Ryoka to deliver a handful of potions to Riverfarm?

It made no sense. But Ryoka, who knew who the real sender was, had thought it over hard last night. Laken Godart had asked her for help, and after thinking it over, there was only one real answer she could give. She slowly nodded.

“I…think I will.”

She had a lot to say to Laken and he had a lot to explain, but visiting Riverfarm was essential in either case. Jilta nodded sharply, and reached under the counter.

“Very well. It’s a priority delivery although there’s no time frame on it; I have er, six healing potions and three stamina potions here.”

She offered Ryoka a satchel. The Runner pulled out her bag of holding.

“I’ve got a bag.”

“Ah, well, place them inside—you’ll need to deliver them straight to Lady Rie Valerund. They’re…just generic potions we bought from the local [Alchemist]. The request did say to do that, but…”

Jilta looked at Ryoka, and only her professionalism kept her from asking the obvious. Who paid that much gold to get a bunch of potions you could get anywhere? The answer had to be that it was either something that had to be delivered personally—a message or secret item with the potions—or the Runner herself. Ryoka smiled and didn’t explain.

“I’ll get it there as fast as I can. Can I see a map?”

“Of course.”

The [Receptionist] pulled one out. Ryoka studied the route to Riverfarm; it was south of Walta and Bethal’s lands, southwest of Invrisil, a bit of land in the shadow of a small mountain not claimed by any noble house. The Valerund family, whose [Lady] was apparently at Riverfarm, had a small area of influence, but they were a day’s journey away from Riverfarm.

“Looks straight enough. I’ll be going through this marsh—I hate marshes. But aside from that, it’s straight. Thanks, I’ll head out right away.”

Ryoka nodded at Jilta. The [Receptionist] smiled.

“Of course. If you want to come back this way, I can do the confirmation. But of course, any large Runner’s Guild can handle it. Even so, we’d be happy to see you here again, Miss Griffin. You’ve been the talk of the Guild since your dramatic delivery.”

Ryoka felt her face heat up. Jilta was in her late twenties, a former Runner herself. Ryoka didn’t recall much of what had happened when she’d staggered into the Guild—she recalled throwing up on Charlay, and the Centauress reminded her of that every few seconds—but she also remembered Jilta helping her puke onto the floor. Ryoka cleared her throat.

“I’m really grateful for all the help. I was an imposition, with the wind, the sand…”

Jilta waved that away.

“It was a request from Lady Walchaís. And this is my job. As I said, you’re welcome back here. And you’re easier to deal with than…”

She nodded at Charlay. Ryoka grinned and ducked her head.

“Thanks again.”

She turned to go and jumped. Someone else was waiting in line with Charlay. Only, this woman wasn’t a Runner. A woman in bright pink armor with a shock of grey in her black hair nodded to Ryoka as she tucked her helmet under one arm. Ryoka stared at the Knight of the Petal as Charlay blinked and stepped out of the way. The Runners in the Guild and Jilta looked up. There was a flurry of bows as the [Knight] strode forwards. The woman halted in front of Ryoka and offered her a slight formal bow.

“Miss Griffin. Good morning to you.”

“Dame Truvia. Uh—how can I help you?”

Ryoka recognized one of the senior Knights of the Petal, one of the protectors of Walta. Dame Truvia was a Knight of the Petal, like the others that Ryoka had met. Lady Bethal’s personal order of [Knights]. They garnered a lot of respect from Walta’s citizens, but also in general; the Knights of the Petal were a fairly powerful order of [Knights] for their size, or so Ryoka gathered. Her presence certainly had an effect on the rest of the guild. Jilta bowed again.

“Dame Truvia! I’m terribly sorry to keep you waiting. We’re just opening—how can I help you?”

She was poised, ready to attend to any of the [Knight]’s needs at once. Truvia smiled, her stern face warming slightly.

“I have no need of your assistance, Miss Griffin. Nor do I need to place an order, Miss Receptionist. I am simply here to check up on Miss Ryoka’s condition.”

“With me?”

Ryoka blinked. Charlay was staring behind her. Truvia nodded.

“Lady Bethal was most impressed with your run, especially the…spectacle of it. She ordered me to check up on you before you left.”

“That’s kind of her. Er, Lady Bethal was very generous. If she has any other requests, I would be happy to take them.”

Ryoka bowed awkwardly. Sending a [Knight] just to see if she was well was strange. But Bethal Walchaís defined the word. Ryoka distinctly recalled the woman. Passionate and strange barely described her. Truvia nodded, looking Ryoka up and down.

“I’m sure Lady Bethal will remember you. It is just a formality. Forgive me for imposing.”

She bowed to Ryoka and Jilta. There was something so graceful about her humility. Impressive too; the woman was almost everything Ryoka wanted to be at her age of around…forty? Fifty? Except for the pink.

“Not at all, Dame Truvia. It’s an honor to have you in the Guild. Can I offer you refreshments? Anything else…?”

Jilta was fussing over the woman, looking star-struck as if Truvia were a minor celebrity. Which…she was. Ryoka stepped back, and Charlay trotted forwards. Breathless, the Centauress held out a hand.

“Dame Truvia? Dustrider Charley, at your service. I’m the best Runner in Walta, and if you have any needs, any at all—”