Red Company

[Wightraven]

Red was in much lighter spirits when he returned, and the last portion of our journey to Yukiori was all the brighter for it. Tanis and I's commitment to closer physical interaction took almost no time in becoming casual, and on the second night back on the road she curled up beside me while I played our nightly Earth music, which was the few Bob Seger selections I could remember off the top of my head. Red made no comment about it, but he took notice with a raised eyebrow and a shake of his head. Even if he'd given me his unambiguous approval, I'm not sure I'd feel any less conflicted about the concept of Tanis and I becoming an 'us', a scenario I overthought about rather frequently during the days that followed.

For some reason when I committed to a course of action, I often followed that up with further justifications as though the original reason wasn't good enough. Despite the valid concerns of our wounded trust and sub-optimal compatibility, my brain insisted on reminding me we'd barely known each other for a month and I hadn't taken enough time to consider what a future together would look like. She absolutely hadn't; Tanis lived in the moment, and I really wanted the next relationship to be my last, even if that was an infeasible goal that wasn't entirely up to me. Nevermind that neither of us were actually interested in romance, these were the reasons I should keep her at arm's length.

Sometimes my brain was less the information center for my body and more a jackass who lived in my skull and offered unhelpful ideas. Because on the other hand, I argued with myself, odds were I'd be on the road for the foreseeable future and 'settling down' wasn't a tangible idea. Nevermind that neither of us had any intention for children, so there was less ironclad commitment in doing so. If I was being realistic, unless I got incredibly lucky there'd be more than one new notch on my bedpost between now and the end of my life, and if things blossomed for the two of us, I resolved to keep my mind open to acting upon it. Key influencers on this decision were how my hairs stood on end when she brushed up against me unexpectedly, or the serene warmth that kindled in my chest when she held me while I sang. In fact, they were both rather vocal supporters of throwing caution to the wind and making a move just for the opportunity to bask in an endorphin rush.

By the time we found ourselves setting down to a late breakfast in The Wanderer's Regard, I was burning to make a few rash decisions in the pursuit of said temporary pleasures. Fortunately, the town of Yukiori caught my curiosity enough to act as a welcome distraction from how soft Tanis' lips looked, or the thrill I felt when brushing my hand across one of her taut muscles. While we were still technically within the borders of Astonia, crossing into Senta would take little more than an hour, and you could see the heavy nezumi influence on the architecture and aesthetic around us. Smaller, stacked stones served as foundation for the houses, and lacquered boardwalks raised up above the small drifts of snow. There was more exposed wood as part of the buildings with fewer harsh elements to contend against allowing intricately carved and boldly painted decorations to make each building stand out despite the relative uniformity of style. The tile rooves curved and peaked with sturdy shingles, doors slid open instead of swinging on hinges, and round paper lanterns hung from every storefront and awning, their tassels fluttering in the chill breeze.

"We're staying the night here," I insisted over a meal of fish, rice, and a light broth. I wasn't sure what the traditional name for the dish was, since the kanji-like strokes of the nezumi language Gengo now mixed with Aznakke and Ruben on signs and menus, and I'm sure it had a more unique title in its native tongue, but the soup tasted like miso, and brought back memories of fine meals I hadn't consumed in well over a year.

"You sure, chief? We got plenty of time to supply up, hit the road, an' find a campin' spot before it gets too dark."

"I'm sure. I need to see this city at night, with the lanterns all lit."

"Did you see there's a little stage in here?" Tanis bubbled over mouthfuls of her own piscine meal, "I think they have live music with dinner. Maybe you could learn a few new songs?"

"Well, now that we're outta the worst of the snow, the only schedule we need to keep is gettin' in an' outta Bizim before summer hits, an' that's months away." Red looked the best I'd seen him in days, forcing himself to salivate over each small, sardine-like fish from the pile he'd purchased before he popped one into his mouth. "I'm cool to stay here if you guys are."

"Making a little money wouldn't be a bad idea, either, if you think you could set up some esper fights or something?" We weren't in rough shape, but if I could avoid even approaching a situation of financial concern, I'd rather.

"I'll ask around," he nodded. "We're closer to Triangle Road than the last time I pulled that stunt, so it might be harder. I need to get a vibe on this place. Been a long time since I came so close to Senta."

"Is there any way to make money fighting above board?"

"Eh, probably not. Not here, anyhow. League chainers get paid based on a percentage of last year's ticket sales, more if it's against a Gladiator. With no coliseum in town and the qualifiers in full swing, it's doubtful there's a judge just passin' through to officiate. But I'll figure somethin' out. If we can't find a fight, I'll see if I can't find some other work. We're pretty far from Teren Balt, but the reach of the Houses goes pretty far."

"Don't it just," Tanis grumbled.

We finished our meals and parted ways, Tanis and I agreeing to meet back up at the tavern for dinner and a show. Grajo and Wysteria opted to stay in our room, both more weary from the road and less inspired by the culture and opportunities in the city than those of us with two legs and no wings. I offered to accompany Red on his investigations, but he turned me down just in case he did meet with any of his contacts. The whole exchange had a very 'you don't want none of this, Dewey' sort of vibe to my wannabe-roguish heart, but I let it go, trusting that he truly had my best interests at heart. He certainly never steered me wrong before. A few hours flew by with me exploring the shops, picking up food and fresh supplies when the deal seemed good or the item essential. Quietly people-watching also kept me busy and entertained, marveling at the diverse people, clothing, armor, and gear visible in this amazing melting pot of a town. It made me want to step up my fashion game as a traveler, give other people something to look at that wasn't so… consistently brown. But before I could indulge myself in a little experimental toggery, Red caught up with me, having managed to scrabble together a few under-the-radar fights and a discrete to have them.

Gathering up the other espers, we made our way to the basement of a decidedly non-descript building. I would think an unassuming box would stand out more in a place with so much culture, but it was perhaps remote and abandoned-looking enough to discourage anyone who had no business there. It certainly gave me a nervous feeling as we descended down crumbling stone stairs into something that was little more than a dank fruit cellar. At the bottom was a nezumi, an az, and a human, each with a pair of espers. None of them were as intimidating as the building itself, especially with the az slouching to avoid hitting her head on the low ceiling. We each made our introductions and established ground rules for a small round-robin tournament, with every victory granting a small payout and the overall winner taking the lion's share of the wager. Everyone put their share into a small bag, which Red took off to the side. As much as I would've loved to be a fly on the while as he negotiated this arrangement, I was glad I didn't join him in setting it up. First of all, it would give away our collusion even more than us arriving together (perhaps he told them he was going to fetch me, or some other simple lie, I honestly didn't know) and secondly, I don't know if I could so ably convince anyone to join me in an illegal underground fight on such short notice. It made me feel a bit like Turkish from the movie Snatch, if Turkish was incredibly lame and not, y'know. Jason Statham.

Wysteria showed obvious improvements as early as the first fight; her reaction time was better, she seemed more aware of her surroundings, and she was committed to victory, handily disposing of the opposing skrat. The grimoire hadn't given me any indication her abilities had improved, but all the same all her time training with Red and the spar with Argenti the other day were clearly paying off. Grajo's improvements were a little harder to notice, what with him being a trained fighter from long since before I met him, but at the very least there was increased confidence in his movements. Part of them both looking so good was also likely a skill differential; it would be foolish for Red to find us strong opponents when the whole point of the exercise was making money. It wasn't quite on the level of a card shark's hustle, nor were the fights rigged in any way, but he obviously chose chainers and espers against whom we had good odds of finding a natural victory. That's also not to say that the battles were easy; I spent plenty of my magic healing between battles and offering it to my opponents as well. At first it was welcomed, and the four of us made small talk, but the more it became clear who the two arcanists in the finals were going to be, the less inclined to share space everyone became.

The sun was no doubt drawing low on the surface as I stood fifteen feet of raw earth away from the az, who was smiling confidently and still stooping to avoid crowning herself. She was the victor in our previous bout, largely owing to her pair of moss trolls and their natural immunity to Wysteria's Venomous Vapors. It put us on the backfoot, especially with Grajo taking an early and unexpected injury that forced me to sub Wysteria in. This time the plan was to have her start and wear down one or both as much as possible in hopes Grajo could finish the job. It was a long shot, admittedly, but there was neither gold nor glory in backing out now. Red caught eyes with me, an unsure expression hidden somewhere beneath his impartial façade. No matter what happened, we were walking out of here with a return on investment; I'd won enough to make a few coins more than what I'd put in the pot, and he'd already taken his cut from the purse as organizer, which we would split. I could still feel the vestiges of that rush back in Brum, though, and it steeled my nerves to stare down unlikely odds and still do my damnedest. Of course, most of the heavy lifting was down to the espers. Wysteria squared her squat little legs in anticipation of Red's shout, imitating the League judge.

"BEGIN!"

The moss troll was most certainly faster than Wysteria, and it barreled into her before she had a chance to strike. There was far less room in this dusty old fruit cellar than there was in Brum's coliseum, and it meant less time to plan or react to changing conditions. I stayed mostly silent, with all of us up to speed on the basic tactic and little room for audibles. Wysteria weathered the blow and responded with one of her own; a shoulder charge that rocked the moss troll enough to pop him back a bit, but little more. He curled back into his ball form and spun around the room to build momentum before colliding again, nearly knocking the terramor toad off her feet. A wince spread across my face before I could stop it. Already things weren't going as well as I'd hoped; despite her intense training, she just wasn't a had-to-hand fighter as much as she relied on Venomous Vapors. At the moment, Grajo was our heavy, and I was wondering how soon into Marekaj I could justify trying to recruit a new esper if for no other reason than to diversify our options. Shaking my wandering thoughts clean, I tried to keep my mind in the now despite how far behind in the fight Wysteria was.

After a few more rolling attacks and one punch to the throat, my dear toad friend was looking rough enough that I withdrew her from the fight and substituted the nachtkrapp in. Grajo's whole body heaved with a sigh as he stepped in, knowing as well as I did he had an uphill battle. Fortunately, for as much as the moss trolls had a natural physical advantage against my espers, they weren't as smart as Alexsandr's. The first one only got a small swat at Grajo before he picked him up by his grassy hair and hurled him into the corner, knocking him out of commission. He puffed his chest proudly as the fresh moss troll switched in for her partner, squaring her body and doing a little haka-like war dance to psych herself up. Grajo strafed her on the ground, looking for an opening or weakness; some imperceptible flaw in her stony defenses that we missed earlier. He finally dove in for an assault, but she was ready, grabbing him by the ankles and swinging him into the wall. Feathers flew and Grajo flapped back to his feet, clawing and scratching as the moss troll rained down blows with her mighty fists. Despite all the fight left in Grajo I could see the writing on the wall, and I didn't want to put him through more pain than was necessary for a little fight money and a triumphant feeling in my chest. I threw in the metaphorical towel, and the az pumped her fists in victory.

"I could have fought longer," he grunted in Esperlang, coughing a small amount of crimson fluid onto the ground as I began to mend his wounds.

"I know." He caught my eyes and we both passed our understanding that unless she suddenly froze up and stopped fighting, it wouldn't have meant anything but more injuries for him to keep at it. It was a long, unblinking look, lasting two uses of my Healing Touch, but he finally nodded sternly.

"… thank you."

"Of course."

The profits weren't as much as they could've been, but it was more than enough to cover what I spent in supplies and our stay at the inn. The az seemed happy about her victory and watching her beam with pride while talking up the moss trolls made me feel a little better about losing. Seeing the lanterns glowing along the city streets was more than enough reward for me, anyhow; shades of orange, pink, and lavender reflecting off the stones and the light dusting of snow that had fallen while we were underground set a breathtaking scene as people milled through the streets, coming home from work, heading out for a night on the town, or just enjoying the view as I had earlier. Red and I joined them after letting the espers into the room to rest, taking an unobtrusive seat on some crates in the alley next to the inn. I wasn't quite sure where Tanis had gotten off to, but our date had a nebulous schedule and I was content to wait and just enjoy a quiet moment of absorbing the energy of a bustling evening. An errant flake would twirl past my vision now and then, drifting down from the rooftops or perhaps descending from the sky high above, and the manner in which it caught every incremental hue as it performed its final dance bred a sense of tranquility within me that unburdened whatever was on my shoulders.

"You did good tonight, chief."

"Thanks. Sorry we didn't take the whole thing."

"We'll manage," he shrugged. "It's gonna be a while before we get to another settlement. Might be all the way to Vil Kayman. But we're all pretty resourceful."

"You think it's gonna be tight?"

"Maybe," he tilted his head, black fur waving a bit as the breeze stiffened and picked up, "maybe not. It's hard to tell. Marekaj don't have much in the way of towns like the rest of Barbavia. Not a lot of incentive to make permanent dwellings when the wet season could wipe 'em all out, y'know?"

"Sure." I had no personal frame of reference, of course, but his words made sense. "We're… not going during the wet season, are we?"

"Well, we ain't goin' during the dry season; that's Dryearth Run. But it's cold enough that it shouldn't bee too bad. If we stay in the lee of the mountains, as planned, we should avoid the worst of it even once we get far enough South that the temperatures start to rise."

The months in Barbavia had such interesting names. I was used to single words that were quiet allusions to figures from history and myth, but here it was much more direct and what it says on the tin; Trader's Launch was the beginning of the calendar during what most parts of the continent would call 'spring', followed by Shade's March through the darkened canopies of Teren Balt's heavily forested territory. Hail's Refrain marked the beginning of summer, when most people were traveling through Astonia, paired with the aforementioned Dryearth Run. I arrived in the Commonwealth toward the end of Sun's Retreat, when the Southern deserts of Bizim are less temperamental between the heat of the day and the chill of the night, and we were now in Serpent's Boon where the traders would make the arduous trek into the Serpent Mountains to trade with the snake-worshipping kobolds that lived apart from the ones who praised a sun god. To the rest of the continent these were the fall months, though my time around non-coniferous trees was both early and late enough that I managed to miss the sweet spot of exploding red and orange I so looked forward to every year. Hearth's Return took the traders back to the Earthscraper in Senta, and Trader's Rest was the month they took off for the harshest parts of winter before starting the cycle all over again.

"Thanks for sticking around, by the way."

"Huh?" Red's ears pricked up, a little startled by my sudden change of subject.

"I know I've said it before, but I just really appreciate you helping us all out. We wouldn't be here without you."

"No," he admitted with a smirk, "you wouldn't. But thanks for havin' me, anyhow. I know I ain't good for much beyond helpin' with Wysteria an' Grajo, an' occasionally scorin' us a fight under the table, but—"

"But that's a really important part of this whole dynamic. I'd probably still be stuck in Brum at this point, facing down the winter and trying to figure out how to get an edge on Alexsandr. I might not even have Grajo on the team."

"Maybe," he shrugged. "I think you sell yourself short a little, but I ain't about to pretend like you haven't needed me. It's part of why I stayed; I—" He stopped, his tiny cat-lips flexing with hesitation, trying to choose the perfect words. "A long time ago I walked away from a friend when she needed me, an' I've regretted it every day since. Things got too hard. I wasn't strong enough. An' every day after I got done feelin' sorry for myself, I promised the next time I had the chance to stay and do better, I would. This is it. I mean, I like you, Glenn. I really do. You're one of the best friends I ever had in this world, definitely the best one I still got, but I'm in this to make good on my mistakes as much as I am just 'cuz I like you."

"Does anyone do anything for just one reason?" I inquired genuinely.

"Maybe," he chuckled and shook his head. "I wonder sometimes. Sounds egotistical to just assume I'm built different from other people, but I've seen so many randos motivated purely by money, or sex, or bitterness… I dunno. Not worth thinkin' too hard about, I guess, unless I'm tryna get a read on someone."

"Well, for what it's worth I also think of you as the best friend I have right now."

"Yeah?" A wry smile spread across his mug. "Even better than Tanis?"

"Maybe," I shrugged and shook my head. "I honestly don't know."

"I just noticed you two started cozyin' up."

"Yeah. That's… probably more complicated than it seems…"

"Eh, it ain't really none of my business. Whatever makes you happy, chief. I'd just hate to see you get hurt in the process."

"Me too," I scoffed. "I've had more than enough of that in my lifetime. She doesn't seem to be coming from a romantic place with it, and that's weird for me, but it's been awhile since I've been that close to anyone, and—" Red held up a forestalling hand.

"Like I said, chief; it's none of my business. Speakin' of which…"

Red moved his hand to point toward the street where Tanis was presently walking up. She looked freshly groomed, but was dressed the same as usual in her armor and fur-lined coat. My heart didn't soar when I saw her, as delighted as I was, further throwing into confusion what 'we' were to each other. I'd spent my life being hung up on categorizing things, as much as I tried not to fall into the trap of stereotypes. It helped me to understand and interact with the world. The relationship between she and I being so obfuscated was a little stressful, but it's also part of what made the entire arrangement exciting. Not knowing what to expect, what the next stage of our entanglement was, or if there even would be a next stage bred new mystery in what had become a predictable pattern in life for me. Red and I said our goodbyes, Tanis and I said our hellos, and the two of us sat down to some truly excellent music over dinner. The closest thing I could compare it to was wagakki, the small nezumi band led by a shamisen-playing vocalist and backed with guitar, koto, bamboo flute, and an array of drums. Sometimes the tempo picked up in a way that almost approached rock music, but mostly it remained in a more ponderous, plinky soundscape. My favorite song was one that sounded familiar, but I couldn't quite place. Maybe if I spoke Gengo the lyrics would help, but instead I gave up wondering and just closed my eyes, losing myself in the sound. Tanis laid her head on my shoulder in what was fast becoming a familiar, comfortable weight. Like the snowflakes playing in the wind outside, it brought me to a peaceful place.

 

[Wightraven]

Tucking my pants into my boots wasn't comfortable, but it was essential for traversing through Marekaj. The first few days of the trip were in familiar territory, if a bit flatter; the foothills leading into the Highback Mountains began rather abruptly and we were passing just within sight of their galloping waves, but not close enough to offset our stride. It reminded me of Ohio in late winter/early spring, when it was too cold for much to grow back but not enough to freeze the water that pooled in the ditches and roadsides. The shapes of the mountains themselves created an interesting landmark to track our travels, as well. Triangle Road, while absolutely more pleasant to traverse, felt isolated from anything but itself, drowned in trees and featureless hills. Watching specific peaks fade from the scenery as we put them past us gave me a more tangible grasp on the progress we were making. The foothills seemed to hug closer and closer to the mountains as we curved South out of the ambiguous border between Senta and Astonia and into Marekaj proper. I don't know why, but I was surprised that it was still cold despite being a wetland, somewhat reminiscent of the Western parts of Skyrim. Silently acknowledging what that said about me as a person, that my strongest frame of reference for a biome that was within an hour's drive from my house was in a video game, I shed my robes and began the aforementioned pant-tucking to keep leeches and any other hungry creatures from sneaking into my boots.

When shopping for a tent and other essential accoutrements, I discovered what looked like a sturdy, black, fur-lined poncho. Imagine my delight when I found it had an equally furry hood. With the warm mantle short enough to stay out of even splashing water as we tromped through soggy stretches of marshland, it became my signature garment for this stretch of our voyage. I found myself wearing black more often now, with tunics and trousers among the purchases made in Yukiori, all dyed to a colorless oblivion. This was my preferred color scheme and what I wore most often on Earth, but I couldn't help to notice how it matched Tanis' own choice of dress. Having to rely on our own supplies to camp without the rental services of Triangle Road, we opted for a large three-person tent that Tanis offered to carry for us. Anything more might've been too much, especially with how much space my heavy woolen robes took up within my pack. A bag of holding or portable hole or… something to minimize the physical burden of inventory would be nice, but even if such a thing existed, I doubted we had the coin to purchase one. For the first week, we each kept to our chosen corners of the tent; Tanis, me, and the espers. Then, after a week, when the day had been hard and the pissing rain had set us all in a foul mood, Tanis wordlessly joined me on my bedroll, combining our blankets and snuggling into my back as we had done in the Frozen Salamander. She did it again the next night, after a drier day, and again the night after that. Like Red leaving first thing in the morning to help his fellows hunt for breakfast and avoid cutting into our food stores, Tanis quietly slipping into my bedding became a regular occurrence.

I'd picked up a few more experience at some point, but sitting literally one Xp shy of thirty and nowhere near a place where Wysteria and Grajo needed to be stronger, I held on to what I had until the number ticked over again. The days were filled with little beyond idle conversation, the collective mood of the group waxing and waning with the intensity of the downpour. I liked grey skies and rain, but being stuck outside in them for days at a time put a very literal damper on my spirits, not to mention those of my sunshine-loving comrades. Even Wysteria seemed at odds with her surroundings, more acclimated navigating the uneven terrain but rankling at the cold breezes and chilly water she would enjoy in a warmer clime. Away from the crowd, a month removed from the barrage of questions that spilled from my curious mind and into Red's vast stores of local knowledge, it was the quietest any part of our journey had been. That is, until an otherwise unremarkable Ujur afternoon. Red and Tanis went in search of a suitable place to make camp and dry out our clothes after a miserable morning downpour, and I had found a stump of such quality that I couldn't bring myself to pull away from my seat upon it. I knew I'd been losing weight from my efforts, but it was neither as fast nor as noticeable as I might've liked. The purchase of a belt to keep my current rotation of pants up around my waist would soon be a wise investment, likely once we got to Vil Kayman, but otherwise I felt as schlubby as ever, and the toll our current environs were taking on my nagging injures from a former life was noticeable, especially on colder days like this one.

"I have a query," Grajo began, his voice like an old floorboard in a haunted house. The surprise that I fluently and effortlessly understood and could speak a different language, even one like Esperlang that was so close to the Spanish I was fairly well-versed in, was only just starting to fade. Translating the luchadores' promos I'd watch on TV or trying to speak to native Mexican customers at work took thought. Time. Esperlang came to me as fluidly as English.

"All right?"

"You and Tanis have been spending much time in close physical entanglement, especially at night. Why do you not fornicate?" The bluntness of the unexpected question struck me like a water balloon to the face, leaving my mouth flopping open and closed like a fish on the line. Wysteria croaked just as suddenly, a chastising abruptness to her throaty voice. She had turned her body to square at Grajo, who shrugged his shoulder-equivalents with a blasé look in his good eye. "I can ask what I wish. It is his choice whether or not to provide a response."

"I, uh…" I swallowed to moisten my somehow-dry throat, the offended glare the terramor toad was trying to burn the nachtkrapp down with eliciting a chuckle from me and freeing me from my momentary stun. I wasn't scandalized, nor was I concerned with some veil of privacy around my personal life; it was just among the last questions I ever expected Grajo to ask me. "Well, a lot of reasons, I guess. I'm not sure that's the relationship we have, and I'm not into… uh… fornication with just anybody. I'm not even sure that's what she wants. And… y'know. More practical stuff, I guess. Respect for you guys since we keep the same tent, for example—"

"I would not mind," he said, with a tone that implied generous permission.

"I would," I said, the noise Wysteria made echoing the sentiment. "Besides, I don't have any kind of protection, and I'm not looking to have a kid."

"That is not possible," Grajo shook his head. "Humans and balt are incompatible."

"… we are?" My interest was less in putting the option of nocturnal activities in the realm of possibility, but more my intellectual curiosity about the rules of this realm.

"Of course. Humans, mawon'nwa, nezumi, balt… none of them can procreate. The same as Wysteria and I could not make a child, even though we are both espers." A series of perturbed whistles and pops came from Wysteria's position in the mud, and she slapped her arms about to emphasize whatever her point was. Grajo rolled his eye and responded to her. "Well, yes, of course not. But the same goes for Red, or a moss troll, or whatever else you might consider handsome."

"I think you're very handsome, Grajo." I inclined my head toward him, trying to pick up any spirits Wysteria may have wounded while simultaneously sending a wink the toad's way to show I appreciated her bluster.

"Thank you." He puffed up his chest with pride. "My child-making seasons are behind me, I think, but it is nice to be recognized for one's merits."

"If I have my druthers, my child-making days will never be a thing."

"Then my advice would be to secure a lover who is not human," he nodded sagely. "You could do worse than Tanis, for what it is worth. She is a skilled hunter and has an amusing temperament. She seems to elicit joy from you."

I opened my mouth to argue, but Wysteria took a few steps forward and began a string of chirps and belches that I only wished I could understand. She went on long enough that she finally drew Grajo's full attention, and we both waited patiently for her to finish her thoughts in their entirety, which went on longer than one might assume and petered out slowly, but with marked intent, like the last few drops of conditioner plopping down from a mostly-empty bottle. She looked between the two of us and croaked again, prompting the nachtkrapp to turn back toward me and catch my eyes, inhaling deeply before he translated.

"Wysteria finds it pertinent that I remind you your decisions are your own to make, and that no matter how wise my demeanor may make me seem, not everything I say should be taken as appropriate advice for you, as we are different beings who have led different paths." Wysteria made another insistent bellow after a few seconds of silence, and Grajo rolled his eye. "She would also like me to apologize for overstepping my boundaries with an inappropriate question, though I do not agree with the idea that it was inappropriate. Copulation is as natural as feeding, as breathing."

"It's fine," I chuckled. "Thank you both for your advice and your concern."

Strange and awkward though the conversation was, it broke a morose sort of enchantment that had settled around me. When Tanis and Red returned with news of a small cave to set up our tent against what appeared to be another encroaching storm, I volunteered to do the lion's share of the work. Resting on the stump had helped, sure, but beating the dust out of my spirits like so much old rug had a more obvious influence. The mirth spread around the camp, over dinner, and into the night. Perhaps we'd been merry enough this whole way and I was only just now able to see it again. Time alone with my thoughts wasn't exactly grim, but my brain often attempted to poison me in quiet ways, and I had to consider how many dark shackles had begun to take hold before my esper friends shook me free. Clothes would dry, spirits would rise, hard work would pay off, and dreams would come true. The bad times couldn't last forever, and hindsight might provide the context needed to realize they weren't all that bad to begin with.

Around an hour after Tanis and I settled into bed, I still hadn't fallen asleep. My mind wasn't exactly buzzing with thoughts, but insomnia was gripping me more than usual. Perhaps it was the week and change I'd spent sleeping on cold, hard ground, padded though it was by our bedrolls and the floor of the tent. This variety of camping reminded me more of the kind I disliked from my youth, when my father took me to the lakes and I was serenaded by the mating songs of horny bullfrogs, droning and persistent as slumber stepped ever further from my grasp. No noise kept unconsciousness from taking me that night, no thought in specific, but it refused to come all the same. Whatever foggy train of thought I'd taken away from my monster-naming ritual was dispersed by Tanis' whispering voice.

"Hey. Are you still up?"

"Yeah," I rumbled. I'd heard speaking in an undertone was less disturbing than a whisper, even if the latter was technically more quiet. I didn't think either of us were going to wake up the espers, but it seemed polite to try my best.

"I can't sleep," she huffed.

"Same."

"I think there might've been coffee in that fudge we picked up in Grenseben." I hadn't thought of that. We'd both been snacking on it a lot today, concerned about how well sticky chocolate would hold up as we continued South and the weather got warmer. Snow was already well in our rear-view, and I wondered how cold it would be if not for the frequent rains.

"That seems entirely possible," I agreed.

Silence filled the tent again, the soft echo of the storm outside reflecting off the walls of the cave and back further into the unmapped cavern. I had opted against exploring its depths earlier, despite Tanis' enthusiasm, since I was aware sometimes what seemed like a normal cave could become a twisting hellscape of stalactites, stalagmites, surprise underground lakes, and sheer drops into swallowing blackness. Claustrophobia wasn't exactly among my many idiosyncrasies, but the idea of getting lost in the crushing depths beneath the mountain or taking a tumble and the only possible way back to the surface being an Amigara Fault-like hole outweighed the possibility of seeing some neat mushrooms and rock formations. I liked exploring caves in video games, where I could stay safe in my living room, on my couch, able to get up and grab a bag of chips and a cup of tea when the environs got too oppressive and overwhelming. She didn't spend long looking around, herself, returning to camp after maybe fifteen minutes, though she didn't mention why, exactly. My money was on it being a boring cave more than the ominous dread of the unplumbable darkness, knowing Tanis, but either way I felt relieved when she made it back safely.

"Can you tell me a story?"

"Eh…" I hated being put on the spot like that, in an intrinsic way. Nothing killed my desire and ability to recite a tale quite like being asked to do so. Suddenly my brain voided itself of every yarn I'd ever heard spun, and my own meager ability to manufacture entertainment as a dungeon master dropped itself entirely from my skillset. It seemed like a reasonable way to pass the time until sleep decided to take us, though, so I made an effort. "What kind of story?"

"What about one of your fanfictions?"

"I don't write fanfictions. I'm not a writer."

"You know what I mean. One of the ones you read."

"I dunno, Tanis, I don't really remember fanfic that well—"

"If you tell me you're not a rememberer, I'm going to pinch something soft." That made me laugh, stifled though it was.

"No, I just don't know if I remember any of them well enough to tell like a story."

"Not even your favorite one?"

"My favorite fanfiction…" I mused, considering my options. "It's an old one, based off a game I played… the main character was this overconfident, smarmy rogue, and the story focused on building a relationship between him and one of the other playable characters, a rat-woman. Kind of like a nezumi, now that I think about it. They were friends from way back, reunited as part of the main quest. Her lover had gone missing, presumed dead. His efforts at wooing the princess were going largely unsuccessful, and the story explored this alternate idea that maybe something blossomed between them."

"That's not telling me a story, that's telling me about a story," she huffed.

"I'm sorry, I really don't remember it enough to tell."

"I mean, I do."

"You know the plot of some niche fanfiction I read over a decade ago?"

"I bet I can guess it," Tanis responded as smugly as someone can while whispering.

"All right, let me hear it." I felt sure she was joking, but I was curious how close she'd get.

"The nezumi thinks he's a smart-mouthed little miscreant, right? But then he trusts her to mend a secret wound, then a little later in the story they share a bed for warmth, and it happens a few more times with deeper and deeper conversation and a little alcohol at one point. They talk about the ribbon on her tail, a memento from her lover—who is alive, by the way, but he has amnesia and doesn't remember her. Tragic. Anyway, they have this encounter at a hot spring where he doesn't know that she knows he's watching her until she gets all coy and calls him out, but in the end when the princess finally returns his affections, the nezumi gives up and tries to help her lover with his memory." My mouth widened with every word, and by the end of it I was sitting up in my bedding and staring at her.

"Uh… yeah. Like, exactly. You remembered some stuff I forgot."

"It's one of the side plots in Hiro's Ninth Epic, between Dane and Frey," she shrugged with a simple smirk. "One of my favorites, actually. I left out the bit at the end where they finally have a passionate tryst before he goes off to get married… though most of your more reputable playhouses do, too."

"Those are also—" I shook my head, and suddenly a few stray thoughts and ideas settled into place. "Hiro's Ninth Epic? You told me about his sixth one a month or so ago… how many epics did Hiro write?"

"Fifteen, I think? I heard he's working on another one, though a lot of people say it's actually a ghost writer based on how different they were after the fifth. Or, like, a team." Hiro. With an 'i', not an 'e'. As in… Hironobu? And the names of the characters Dane and Frey were so similar…

"What is Hiro's Sixth Epic about?" There was more of an edge of demand in my voice than I might've liked, and it had risen in volume more than politeness would recommend, but another piece was slowly weaving its way into the strange tapestry of this world and it wracked me with something approaching panic.

"Pretty straightforward story. A bunch of heroes fight a corrupt government in a world without magic, until suddenly the magic comes back and it nearly destroys the world until the good guys finally save the day." Even in the dim light from the fire's final embers, I could see her brows quirked in concern. "It was pretty good, though it's got a big cast and that makes most people want more from the individual characters than we get, but it's a hell of a lot better than the sequel. Why are you freaking out?"

"OK… so at least that's different…" I breathed, measuring my volume and taking a few deep breaths. "Who's the villain of Hiro's Sixth Epic?"

"Francisco Pagliacci. He's like the President's right-hand man, really flamboyant. Kinda reminds me of your sh—"

"My shirt. Right. Featuring Kefka Palazzo from Final Fantasy VI. And the story I was just telling you about is based on Final Fantasy IX… both games involved writing and direction from a guy named Hironobu Sakaguchi."

"Oh! That is an interesting coincidence."

"But it's not a coincidence. It can't be. Not when so much is so similar… the plot of Indomitable, the languages we speak being excruciatingly similar…"

"Deep breaths, Glenn. You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I feel like my whole frickin' world is a ghost! I try not to get hung up on it, I really do, but then something like this happens and I just don't know what's real anymore!"

"Glenn…" Tanis' voice became less whispery and more breathy, less for stealth and more for comfort. She closed a firm yet tender hand around mine that I hadn't realized was shaking and drew herself toward me, wrapping her other arm around me in an embrace. Part of me wanted to fight her and plant myself firmly in panic, but common sense prevailed, and I allowed myself to be drawn in. A ragged exhale shuddered from my throat, and I wasn't crying but hot tears were suddenly streaming down my face. Somehow I was weeping in spite of myself, no sobbing, no anguish, just exhaustion and tears. It was an emotional state I'd never been in before, that I remembered, and one I didn't know how to handle. Thankfully, there was Tanis. "What does it matter if a story from Earth is a lot like a story from here? If you woke up on Earth, had breakfast, and went to work the same way a character in a story did, would you be this freaked out?"

"… no," I admitted with a sigh. My voice didn't sound my own; thin and pitchy despite me trying to keep it down. "But this is a bit different from mundane similarity—"

"I know. I know it is. But, like… really listen to what you're suggesting for a second." She leaned back and held both my hands in hers. "You were in a world with no magic, you got hit by a big cart and maybe died, and now you're here. You've got a cool book that helps you understand the magic that is inherent to you—it's inside you whether you have the book or not. What conclusion could you draw based on that evidence that makes the most sense?"

"I… I don't know." I could feel myself calming down, the involuntary, jittery shaking of my hands fading with Tanis' warmth. Somehow, I felt even more empty than when it was all pouring out of me, like a burst dam that I could only watch in horror as it collapsed. "When this first happened, when I talked to Red about it… we talked about determinism. The idea that some kind of authorial figure… a game master or a god or something had plucked me out of my life and putt me in this situation with some kind of… intent. And it kinda flared up again after there was only one bed in Brum, that's such a trope of the genre, y'know? Slow burn ten thousand word romance stories of 'will-they-won't-they' until the climax."

"Life's not a story, though. Even if it seems that way sometimes."

"Right," I sniffled up a few tears, trying not to look like a mess with snot running down my face, but not yet willing to give up our shared grasp. "The other thing I thought a lot was that I'm in some kind of coma or something… that this whole world is a dream, a vivid hallucination I'm having. But the downbeats between the lyrics… the small moments between the big, dramatic scenes… the minor irritations, the very act of breathing, the passage of time… it's too precise. My dreams were never quite so… incremental. Very rarely were they focused on the minutiae, and when they did it wasn't as real as it still is here, every day. Aches, pains, tastes, smells… this world doesn't warp to my whims or the chaos of my unconscious imagination; it's fully-formed and complex. I can learn about it… but I've also never been in a coma before. Maybe that's how it is when I'm sleeping without waking? The idea that it still might be a dream, that it all might just… disappear…"

"Does it really matter?" She wasn't being dismissive, or impatient. It was an earnest question, and she asked it in a way that shed a lot of her typical pretense. "I mean, I remember most of my life… I existed long before you showed up, and I'm pretty sure everyone else I've ever met did, too. But assuming you're right and this whole thing is just a prolonged figment of your imagination… what does it change? Can you force yourself to stay asleep? To wake up? What if the Earth world was the dream? Does that change anything?"

"I don't know, Tanis, I don't know if I could handle the idea that my mom and my dad weren't real, that Mike—"

"Maybe they are! What the hell is 'real', anyway? You and I both love stories. If I found out Indomitable wasn't really based on a true story and someone just made it all up, does that change how sad I feel when the boat hits that iceberg and everyone on board dies? The Tanner Clan books are complete fiction, but they still helped me feel like I had the big, supportive family I always wanted growing up. Should I not be comforted by it because I didn't really have a neat-freak dad, a cool uncle who hunts the wilds, and a weird bard who lived with us for some reason?" My mind was finally in the right shape to put pieces in places, and I finally deduced the Tanner Clan's Earth analogue, eliciting a quiet guffaw from myself. What ever happened to predictability, indeed. My laughter made Tanis smile, and she released my hands to draw her thumb over my tearstained cheek.

"You're absolutely right. This is exactly the advice I'd be giving you if you were the one who fell out of the sky in my world with a magic cell phone that helped you level up your computer hacking or something. I'm just a professional overthinker, and it gets to me. Especially on weird details like Hiro's Epics that overlap so much. I mean, it's not all exactly the same… but it's just so close…"

"And that is super weird. But sometimes weird stuff is just weird stuff. It doesn't mean anything. I love stories, Glenn. Books, plays, songs… everything. They've brought me comfort, they've inspired me, and they've even helped me understand the world by hearing how the writers interpreted their own experiences of it. But you have to be careful—"

"— because if you spend a lot of time with them, you start to believe life's just stories, and it's not. Life is life." I recited the rest of the quote from her paraphrase, shaking my head and chuckling to myself. Maybe she was making it up from whole cloth just now based on her own experiences, maybe the narrator was poking fun at me, or maybe it was something a pink-furred grimalkin told her sad horse companion in a very famous show she saw once. In that moment I didn't care, and that felt like growth.

"I'm not gonna pretend like your story in Barbavia is typical. I've certainly never heard of it happening before, outside the pages of a book. Maybe it is all just in your head, or some kind of divine prank. So what? Unless you figure out how to change the cards, you can only play the hand you've been dealt, so you might as well ante up and enjoy the game."

"Yeah," I sighed the weight from my shoulders and squeezed her hands before finally letting go. "I shouldn't be looking at this… curious parallel as a problem, or a sign of something greater. I should just be enjoying it for what it is. I mean, do you know how few people I had back home who wanted to talk about Final Fantasy VI?"

"Right? It's like… hello, people! Hiro's Sixth Epic is one of the most popular plays of all time with some of the coolest characters! It's been twenty years and they still put it on all over the Commonwealth! One crummy sequel doesn't unmake a good play."

"I am so looking forward to hashing out the differences between the two with you, but for now… I think I'm finally actually tired."

"Me too, actually," she stretched her shoulders and unleashed a mighty yawn, almost as though on command. "Thanks for sharing your story with me, Glenn, even if it wasn't the one I asked for."

"Thanks for being in it."

 

[Wightraven]

Arcane Sight made the process of recruiting a new esper quite different. By turning it on and concentrating with the right intention where the veil was already thin, I could see completely through it. Compared to the way I'd been doing it, which required a degree of serenity and meditation, looking into the Esperwild with Arcane Sight was a breeze. I could also take in more of the parallel world with less effort, which actually made it more difficult to maneuver since what I saw was often hard to distinguish from what was in front of me and around me. Somehow, I managed not to fall face-first into the muck of Marekaj. It also felt like it gave me a few more options on which esper to take, or at least I felt like I could keep a strong enough grasp on the magical connection to afford to be choosy. Red had little advice to offer me, being unfamiliar with the roster for the recently-appointed new Gladiator for Vil Kayman, so the option of which esper to recruit was entirely mine to consider. I walked past a few rubbery creatures with either antennae or eyestalks ambling through the marsh on four legs that I later understood to be bunyips, considered a couple of large reptiles apparently called kumi lizards, and eventually ducked under an overhanging hill that was much drier in the Esperwild than it was in Barbavia, swamp water up to my ankles.

We were making fair time through the marsh and wetlands, all things considered. Perhaps it was a drive to be done with the whole affair sooner, as all of us save Wysteria were growing ever more miserable in the odious soup. Rations running low (though yet not concernedly so), finances being what they were, and civilization being so far spread, it was Red's suggestion that we wait until the last few days of our journey to attempt to recruit another member of the team. With only a couple of days remaining, now seemed like a fine time to traipse into the wild and see what I could see. There was more than enough food in our packs to supplement typical hunting for whatever I picked up before we reached Vil Kayman, made another score at the local coliseum, and could buy supplies for the next leg. Especially after the wonders of Yukiori and being so isolated off the Triangle Road, I was eager to see what the local culture would be, and more excited to be surrounded by strangers than I was used to. I certainly hadn't become suddenly extroverted, but with no connection to the boons and ills of social media on a regular basis, I felt a stronger thirst for the kind of secondhand socialization overhearing conversations at a tavern and people-watching brought.

If you asked me what drew me to the cliff underside in that moment, I couldn't tell you, but as I arrived an incredibly large creature swooped down, stuffing its nose into a muddy nest in the cliffside. Something about the whole situation made me uncomfortable, and I cried out.

"Hey!"

"Go away, human," the creature hissed dismissively in Esperlang. It had large ears like Red with a somewhat porcine, flat, triangular nose. Most of its physique suggested 'bat' with the shape of the face and thick fur about its neck, but there was something more draconic about its shapes, with a number of small spines and a long, broad tail. I chanced a few steps forward as it dug its nose back into the nest, and a small, terrified cry emitted from something else within the reeds and mud.

"What's in that nest?" I don't recall whether I was speaking Esperlang in response or my own native tongue, the demand came so quickly from my lips. The cold steel of a throwing knife was reflexively between my fingers, the dark feeling in the pit of my gut about those tiny squeaks suggesting I should have an option to back up my words.

"Go back to your side of the veil, wizard!" That last word apparently had no Esperlang equivalent, and it was strange how much the slur stung, even though I was only relatively-recently introduced to it. Perhaps it was the venom and invective in his voice more than the pejorative itself.

"Back away now and you'll live to tell about it," I growled.

The bat-dragon growled back, slapping his tail into the mud and flinging a glob of it my way. Of course, since I wasn't actually in his plane it didn't affect me, and I used the opportunity of its own diversion to dash forward and examine the nest. Even knowing I was relatively safe from harm, that the creature couldn't really touch me, the weight of his presence was significant. I was never the type to run toward danger, outside of my more testosterone-filled teenage years, and there was a lot of shutting out the klaxons that were screaming in my brain, but I was being pulled by something; the same type of something that had me take a chance and reach out for Red's paw so long ago. Amongst the wet earth and grass of the nest were several broken lavender eggshells with dark speckles, fresh spatters of ichor, and a terrified miniature version of the very bat-dragon breathing down my neck. It couldn't have been more than six inches from tail to tip, backed into the corner of the only home it had ever known and quivering with terror.

The larger creature studied me for a space of seconds with surprise, seeming to come to a swift conclusion about my semipermeable nature before trying to strike through me and into the esper in the nest. It fluttered into my body at the last second, and I poured my power to part the worlds between us and bring it to the Barbavian side. While I usually only had to manipulate the veil around my hand or arm, this time it was my entire body that acted as conduit between myself and the esper. The hole was, thus, bigger, and apparently gave the massive bat-dragon a metaphysical foothold to squeeze through. Only when it passed into physical proximity with me could I no longer silence the warnings in my head, awestruck as I was by its sheer size. The esper had the powerful form of an alligator, and long arms with chiropteran wings large enough to support its frame. It loomed over me on equally powerful hind-legs, spreading the wings wide and slavering open-mouthed, with impressive ivory teeth.

"Fine! The child can live… I'll just eat you!"

I spat a panicked curse and threw my knife at the bat-dragon, scoring a hit enough to cause it to reel back in pain. Cupping the tiny esper to my chest with my opposite hand, I began sloshing through the swamp with high steps in what I hoped was the direction of our camp. The bat-dragon chased after, a forceful wind almost taking me off my feet as it beat its wings in an attempt to take to the air. It cursed as well, as apparently I'd injured something critical to flight. Bully for me; I'd likely have already been rent to ribbons if it could get an aerial advantage. Instead we were both stuck scrambling through murky water and wet earth in a chase that must've been as hilariously awkward to witness as it was heart-poundingly frightening to participate in. More than once I heard the snap if its teeth; felt the clap of its jaws too close behind me. I tried to turn the fear into fuel, pushing through the mire for safety, or at least some backup from Grajo, Wysteria, and Tanis. Sooner or later this thing would catch up with me, and I favored its odds in a fight over my own meager defenses. Most importantly, I did not want to look back. That felt like inviting defeat, as though confirming how hot the bat-dragon was on my heels would cause me to move more slowly and accept the inevitability of my bloody demise.

The longer our chase continued, the more sure I became that I took a wrong turn somewhere and had blown past our camp. Perhaps it was in my tactical decision to avoid dryer ground, to keep the esper moving clumsily, slowly through the water in case it had more of an advantage than I did in its absence. It certainly had more stamina than I did, and as much as my lungs were burning and a stitch was tearing through my side, I couldn't so much as pause to get my bearings. We were running, and we could only stop running when we were safe. What qualified as 'safety' seemed in slim pickings, however; any opening I could squeeze through, the bat-dragon could most certainly gain enough clearance in to drag me out by my ankles, nevermind what kind of monster or wild animal might be already lurking within. But even with fear and adrenaline, I was not built for distance running, and I needed to stop and catch my breath. The terrain looked entirely foreign to me now; the marsh more gray, the water more thick with silt and mud, and the tree canopies more obscuring of the sun in the dim sky above. The darkness felt oppressive, even more with the bat-dragon so increasingly close behind. Not far ahead, appearing from the swamp mist, was a raised bit of land with a crevasse running through it. My only hope was that it would be thin enough for me and only me, and deep enough to keep my pursuer out.

Crashing through roots poking out of either side, knocking my elbows on clods of earth, I finally tripped and sent slop flying. Thankfully the wetness beneath me kept me from hurting the heel of my left hand or skinning my knees. I held my breath, opening the right hand I'd been holding gently clasped to my chest, relieved to see the baby bat-dragon was physically fine, if rattled. It blinked up at me gratefully, finding stability in our lack of bustle, but then its eyes went wide as it looked behind me. I winced before the sword-like claws thrust through my back and into my stomach, a hot and ragged pain exploding through every inch of me in waves, radiating outward from each wound. A cough escaped my throat and my breath ran ragged, not from any injuries to my chest or lungs, but merely from an incredible agony like I'd never felt before. Stomach acid, sweat, and filth mingled with the claret streaming down my body, causing my injury to burn even more.

My vision was blurring and fading fast. Magic could repair my flesh, but it didn't relieve me of my exhaustion, and I didn't have the literal firepower to fight off the esper above me with its fingers intertwined in my guts once I did. There was a wild, long-shot idea that sparked to life in my mind, and while I wouldn't ordinarily be comfortable with it, the desperation of the situation required drastic action; I refused to live my last moments gasping for air, lost in the middle of a miserable mire, devoured by a creature I antagonized by the compassionate act of robbing it of a meal. I willed the last vestiges of my energy into my magic, reached out to the clawed hand thrust through my back and the creature it belonged to… and just before I lost consciousness, I felt the sorcery take hold. I linked the bat-dragon, then lost consciousness before I could collapse fully into the mud.

 

[Wightraven]

Darkness pressed between the thick trees, the only light coming from the distant crackling fire and the fat, obfuscated moon above. The camp we made was part of a greater collection of tents, looking not unlike the rented options that decorated the fields alongside Triangle Road. Despite this, there wasn't so much as a stir among the sea of canvas save for myself and Tanis. She was in her smallclothes, for reasons I couldn't quite put together, but admittedly I wasn't trying my best to do so. It was too dark for the more tantalizing details, but still her shapes commanded my attention, stirring feelings in my chest and lower places. She turned to me and smiled, that lopsided, coy, self-confident smirk that she'd worn so often in the more playful moments of our time together, be it fireside conversations or surprise dates in the snow.

"See something you like?" Her voice was honeyed and throaty, drawing on those animalistic urges harder than she ever had before.

In the blink of an instant she was in my arms, my hands smoothing over her naked skin, our lips pressed together in sloppy embrace. Goosebumps erupted across my own body, my breath catching in my throat as we finally gave in to the desires we'd been holding back for so long. The electric feeling faded suddenly and sharply, however, replaced by guilt. This was all moving so fast. We both said we weren't ready for something more complicated than cuddle buddies. What had changed? Besides that, I was in a relationship. I had no right to put my hands on another woman, to have been carrying on with her as we had been, bundled so close at night, sharing warmth and comfort. Why did I let it get so far, carry on for so long? How was I supposed to confess my infidelity… what would happen in the aftermath? Panic threatened to make me hyperventilate, and my mind switched tracks to calming myself in response. Catching my breath, I pulled away and held up interposing hands to keep Tanis at a distance before we got closer, before it got worse. But… no, wait… I hadn't been with anyone in over a year. I had no significant other to answer to, and the last woman I was with clearly didn't value the exclusivity of our relationship as much as I was considering it now. My thoughts felt too far away to properly grasp, like the very act of considering something had to be performed across a great distance. Why was I so confused? Attempting to shut out sensation and bring myself some clarity I began to pull my hands to my face, but Tanis took both of them in her own.

"What's wrong?"

"I… I don't know. My head feels so foggy…"

"Figures," she scoffed. "I should've never expected a soft-hearted, anxious little wreck like you to be able to really commit when it counts."

"Wait… what?" Even if I wasn't already dazed and stretching to catch a train of thought that was just beyond my fingertips, her venomous words would've knocked every other notion from my head. I didn't even have the peace of mind to be insulted, instead trying to recover the situation. Her happiness was more important than my hurt, obviously. "Look, I'll be fine, just give me a moment to—"

"Forget it. It's been fun taking your money, but I need to get back to the circus. I'll just grab the grimoire and be on my way." She slipped away from me and ducked into our tent. I followed as quickly as I could, but she had enough time to put her clothes back on by the time I got there.

"You really screwed up, huh kid?" Redd looked more amused than sympathetic, almost snide, sitting atop a trunk I didn't remember being part of our pack.

"I don't know what I did, but I can make it better! Just give me a chance!"

"You wasted your chances," Tanis snapped.

"Yeah, it's been a pain in the ass dealing with you. It's a shame I need a wizard to join the League an' run an esper team, otherwise I wouldn't have to be draggin' your dead weight around."

"Red…" My voice caught in my throat, but I cleared it with a cough and forced myself to speak. Something wasn't quite right about him, bundled up in a green coat with white fur… Red had black fur, didn't he? Was it black now? A trick of the light? His coloration seemed to shift and change before my eyes. Was I so upset as to be hallucinating? When did we get the pack? Where did he get that coat? Why couldn't I remember? "I thought you were my friend."

"Well, yeah, I would need you to think that. Otherwise you woulda broomed me before I could broom you. But, I was talkin' to Wysteria an' Grajo. We figure we can fake it so long as Tanis plays the part for us. Who knows, maybe she'll even be able to learn magic from that book 'o yours."

"I- … I don't understand… ! Please don't do this, you guys are all I have… !" Anguish overtook my senses and I pushed through the tent flap, my heart pounding in my chest. I needed to get away, to run from the pain as the spectacle of everything I built, everything that brought me so much joy since I arrived in Barbavia fell apart around me. Emotion carried my feet through the camp, past the light of the campfire, through the forest, and before long even the moon disappeared. I was running blind, but I couldn't stop. I couldn't run far enough. I could never run far enough to escape the searing shame and self-loathing that seized my mind.

Gasping a lungful of air, I sat up suddenly, breaking the spell of my own torturous dreams. As the haze of the phantom forest faded, I gathered enough wherewithal to wince in anticipation of my aggravating my stomach wounds by moving so quickly and heedlessly, but no pain came. Feeling my abdomen, I found a sort of patch stuck to it with something like damp potpourri inside. A matching one was pasted to my back, and there were no injuries in-between. My clothes were gone, save for my underpants, which felt stiff and uncomfortable with the dried remnants of swamp water that had, at some point, managed to seep into them. As I gathered my bearings and slowed the beat of my anxious heart, I found the clarity to take in my surroundings. I was in what appeared to be a small hut of some kind, on a pallet of dry reeds and blankets across from a lit fireplace which was warming a kettle of savory-smelling liquid. There were dried herbs and ingredients hanging from the ceiling, as well as feathers, bones, and several other strung trinkets. Much like my dream it was mostly dark, with only the light of the flames and the moon through the paneless windows to see by. Perhaps that's why it took me so long to notice the black-furred being sitting across from me, near the door. Jumping and having to catch my breath again, it was easier to calm once it regarded me with a small nod and a slow blink. This wasn't some random predator here to devour me, but an intelligent creature. Perhaps even my savior.

"How are you feeling?" Her words were clipped and rounded, her voice husky and rumbling, befitting her form. She looked like something between a panther and a wolf, her muzzle favoring the former with more articulated lips. She was around the size of a large dog with a short, leonine mane decorated with similar feathers and jewelry to those on her walls.

"I'm uhm… I'm good, I think." My back was a little sore from laying on a pallet of soft grass as opposed to a plush bedroll, but otherwise I felt as good as I did the last time I woke up. Perhaps even better. "You're to thank for that, I presume?"

"I am," she dipped her head. "I am called Yveline. I heard someone screaming and carrying on out in de swamp. Imagine my surprise when it was two espers and an unconscious human."

"So it worked…" I breathed. Parting the Veil had more flexibility than I expected, which was good to know, but that guilty feeling of manipulating someone's emotions pulled at the edges of celebrating my successful survival. "Where are they? The espers, I mean. Are they OK?"

"Aye. Piti is amongst your tings, sleeping now, I tink. De big one is down by de shore." She nodded her understanding of the situation, golden eyes twinkling in the firelight. "He has been behaved, but I have done my part to keep dem separated just de same."

"Piti? Is that his name?"

"I don't tink he has a name," she shook her head, braids and jewelry jingling with the motion. "He is too young. Too small. 'Piti' is our word meaning 'small'."

"I see." I wanted to respond with something more, but my mind was still a bit of a minefield coming out of the dream, and I couldn't quite locate the social graces to inquire about Yveline's language and culture, despite my interest. Best to stick to hard, pertinent facts for now. "How long was I out?"

"I found you in de evening yesterday. It is night, now, as you can see," she gestured to the window idly with one paw. "I am not sure how long you spent out dere before I did."

"Ah, hell…" If I'd been gone for over a day, everyone I'd left back at camp would have to be worried sick. "I don't suppose you've seen a baltic and a bunch of espers around? They're my friends. They'd be looking for me."

"I seen noting. Been watching over you. But I did notice a few unusual scents some time ago. It could be dem. I can take a look, if you like."

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble? You've already done a lot for me, it seems."

"It is fine. I don't exactly keep to a strict schedule out here," she smiled. "You are hungry, I presume?"

"Uh… yeah, I could eat." The mere mention of food set my stomach to rumbling, as though I hadn't been in a room filled with the aroma of simmering stew for the last few minutes.

"Dere's joumou in de pot, if you like. Goat, pork, and pumpkin soup," she explained. "I'll be back once I find someting."

She padded swiftly and almost silently out of the hut, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Immediately I wished I'd thought to ask after my clothes, but I found them with little effort, drying near the fire. On a short table near there was the rest of my gear, minus the throwing knife I buried in the big bat-dragon's shoulder. The tinier one was curled up among the extra clothes my pack and sleeping. I was pleased to find it was as waterproof as advertised, everything within untouched by the damp and filth. It was too peaceful to disturb, so I left the little critter be while I dressed and helped myself to some of the thin, fragrant broth stewing in the kettle. I was out of it enough that I didn't have the time to take in the nuance of each flavor; it was just good. I typically struggle with the taste and texture of some vegetables and herbs, but for at least this meal I didn't even notice. Perhaps there was something arcane about their inclusion more than the typical reasons you'd put stuff in soup, not unlike the poultices Yveline had stuck to me. Each culture had its own kind of magic, as Master Anatol had told me what felt like ages ago. Whatever people stayed isolated in the wetlands so far from civilization might work things slower, with more raw, natural ingredients, especially if its typical practitioners lacked the opposable thumbs for somatic components. Or maybe it was just good soup and I needed something simple and ponderous to occupy my mind as I ate and wondering about the herbs and veg was less stressful than anything else. Before long, a familiar face popped through the door, and the real Red who was overcome with relief and joy to see his friend nearly flew into my arms.

"Promité's garters, chief, I thought you was dead!" He wrapped his arms so tightly around my neck I thought I would choke. "I kept tellin' myself if you were really in trouble Grajo an' Wysteria woulda felt it or somethin', but when you didn't come back that night or the next mornin'…"

"I'm so sorry, Red." I stroked his back with one hand, supporting his body with the other. Tanis was the next one to enter the embrace, wrapping her arms around the both of us.

"Don't scare us like that again, you dork."

"I'll try not to." My voice cracked, the real love I felt from my friends annihilating their horrible dreamland counterparts.

I moved my hand from Red's back to Tanis', and somehow Wysteria wriggled into the middle of it all. We sat there together in one another's embrace for what was probably way too long for a hug, but none of us could quite commit to letting go. I was worried I'd never see them again, that I'd never see anyone again, but even that fear and panic was only a few hours' worth. They'd been missing me for over a day, scouring the mire for signs of life, or worse yet, my shattered corpse. Eventually Red pushed back, along with Tanis. She leaned down and gave me a quick peck on the forehead, then stepped away. Wysteria remained on my lap, snuggling in more efficiently without anyone else in the way. I ran my palm and fingertips along the bumpy surface of her skin with a diligence as though I'd just touched it for the first time and was enamored with the texture. Grajo caught my eye through the window from his post outside and gave me an approving nod. I responded in kind.

"Well," Red began, clearing his throat and wiping his eyes, "now that we got that outta the way… what the hell happened to you?"

"It's… complicated. Arcane Sight made it a lot easier to… uh… browse for espers, but I came across this huge bat-dragon who was trying to eat the last baby in a nest, and I couldn't just let him."

"Balayang," Red supplied. "You'd have to go out of your way to find 'em here, but they ain't exactly uncommon."

"Good to know. I haven't had the wherewithal to look through the Grimoire about them yet, so…" I trailed off instead of making excuses for my lack of dedicated studying after a near-death experience, a thing which was reasonable not to do and that nobody expected of me. "Anyhow, I brought the baby through with Parting the Veil, but somehow the big one followed me. He chased us for… forever, I guess. Or ten minutes? An hour? I dunno. I thought I'd lost him, but then he got me in the back and in desperation I linked him, too."

"De big one is how I found him," Yveline explained from her position in the doorway. "He was in a panic, frightened, trying to find a savior for Glenn. Luckily, he found someone wit' a little talent for magic, and I was able to recover his wounds."

"So… we have two more espers?" Tanis inquired.

"I don't think I'm comfortable with that," I insisted, shaking my head. "In fact, if you guys wouldn't mind providing backup, I should probably see about sending him back to the Esperwild."

"I wasn't aware you learned that particular spell," Red cocked an eyebrow as I set Wysteria aside and stood up.

"I didn't know he'd be able to drag himself through after me, but here we are. I figure if it worked one way, it could work the other."

"I can lend some assistance," Yveline offered. "Our magic takes longer to work dan de bipeds, but energy is energy all de same."

"Thank you, Yveline."

We exchanged a nod and I headed out of her hut, somewhat surprised to find we were raised up from the marsh on stilts. It made sense, but nothing about the building felt unstable or unsupported. The ground below it was moist, but substantial enough that we didn't sink with every step. I conjured a palm of flame to light the way, marveling at how different the flora here were from what I'd seen during the trip up to this point. Curling fronds, bluish grass, and twisting mangrove trees replaced the wetlands with something I would recognize better as a proper swamp. The big balayang was squatting in the grass, staring forlornly out over the water. It was humanizing, although that probably wasn't the right word. It inspired sympathy in me for him, and everything he must've been going through during my hours of unconsciousness.

"We have some unfinished business," I said in Esperlang, careful to keep my tone even and comforting so my words wouldn't be mistaken for a threat.

"Do we?" He inquired, still looking ahead.

"We do," I confirmed, not wanting to get closer to him than was necessary. "We weren't exactly in the right position to negotiate the terms of working together."

"Yet I am yours all the same now, am I not?" He turned just enough to glare at me with one large, brilliant green eye.

"No," I shook my head. "I don't know how other spellcasters do it, but I'm not into coercing espers to fight for me. Ordinarily we'd talk it over, and I'd give you a choice."

"Is that what we're doing now?" He quirked an eyebrow.

"No," I scoffed. "I'm all for redemption arcs, but you tried to eat a baby, then tried to kill me. That doesn't make me very inclined to work with you."

"The whelp is mine," he growled. "It is my right to consume any offspring that pose a threat to my territory." A grimace cracked my face, but I shook it off. Different creatures, different culture. I didn't agree with it at all, but it wasn't my place to judge him, nor did have any desire to do so.

"Sure, OK, whatever. The next clutch of babies you have, I probably won't be there. Eat 'em up. This time you were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and now we both have to deal with that."

"You'll kill me, but keep the child?"

"I'm not gonna kill you. I'm just gonna send you back to the Esperwild, so long as you're willing to go."

"And if I'm not… ?" His pupil narrowed as he turned to look at me again. No doubt he could see Red, Tanis, Wysteria, Grajo, and Yveline in the distance, but that intimidating stare was all for me.

"I'm not here to play games with you, dude. If you wanna go home, I'll send you home. If you don't, well… jeeze, man. I'll do what I have to."

"Like you did yesterday," he sneered.

"I don't like it, but… yeah. We all gotta survive at the end of the day, right? Look, this works out for you. The child will stay out of your territory with me, and I'll give him the chance he wouldn't have gotten in your stomach. We both get what we want."

"What I want is to devour you whole, but your magic is preventing me from raising a cloaw to do so," he seethed. "But… if you would release me from this bond of inhibition and allow me to return to my home, I would consider us even for the favor of saving your life."

"I'll ignore you leaving out the part where you were the one threatening my life in the first place. I'm not looking for more conflict."

"Mhm." He finally returned his gaze to the water, giving me his back. "This land is unsettling… so similar to my own, yet so different. I mislike the change."

"Well, cooperate with me for a minute and everything'll be back to normal, and you can forget all about this."

Eager to have done with the entire affair, I accepted his response as agreement and cast Arcane Sight, searching for a weak point between worlds. Fortunately, it didn't take long. Out here in the wild they seemed to occur more frequently, even so close to Yveline's small slice of pseudo-civilization. With the looming peril of violence diminished from the last time I cast Parting the Veil in Marekaj I could feel how much more easily and fluidly the spell leapt forth. Instead of a specific esper, I focused on making a hole, and when the familiar colorful runes began to appear, I stretched and widened it until it was large enough for the massive balayang to negotiate. Somehow, I could feel him looming behind me as he approached, perhaps through my own mundane senses, or maybe through the power of link itself. Only once he was at the edge of the gate and my companions were firmly by my side did I remove the metaphysical link between us. The balayang regarded me one final time before stepping through, and he disappeared as I snapped the portal shut behind him.

 

[Wightraven]

Yveline offered to see us the rest of the way to Vil Kayman, which I thought was particularly classy of her. As we traveled, I got the impression she was, perhaps, just grateful for the company and the distraction. Under her guidance we made remarkable time, taking only five more days before arriving at the foot of the Highback Mountains. Yveline kept mostly to herself, though she shared our fire, and I kept the nightly music only to the local songs I'd learned since arriving in Barbavia to avoid exposing my secrets more than was necessary. Thankfully, she asked few questions. Very little of note occurred on the remainder of the trip, though I did notice reluctance from the rest of the group to let me go off too far on my own. I was permitted my own bathroom breaks, thankfully, but even then I often spotted Grajo not far from my private location, off in the trees and near enough to keep his singular eye open for trouble. The indignant, childish part of my brain wanted to rage against that and demand I be treated like the fully capable, independent person I knew myself to be, but I wasn't in a hurry to feel the pain of jagged claws through my back again anytime soon, so the reasonable, adult part of my brain won.

The other thing that kept me occupied on the road was referring to the grimoire and pondering over the choices I could make with the forty-one experience points at my disposal. Don't Die on Me was an immediate purchase, though a part of me was nervous it might not work on the espers the same way it was purported to work on Red and Tanis. Still, some protection from my allies was better than none at all. There was a desire for some kind of personal defense beyond throwing knives, just in case I did find myself alone again, but after everything I still hadn't witnessed any offensive magic myself. The thought had crossed my mind to ask Yveline, since she seemed to manage in a swamp teeming with life, but she was already doing so much for us by acting as a guide, and her magic overall seemed slower and less bombastic than something suited for self-defense in a pinch. For that, I imagined, she had claws, teeth, and the muscular body of an ambush predator. My last two purchases were finally grabbing the Purge Condition spell and the Weapon Master Trait, which promised to improve my talent with throwing knives. It wasn't much, but it was something. That still kept ten back for emergencies, and one to grow on.

Parting the Veil had changed, to my astonishment; the spell now detailed the way I'd used it to return the big balayang to the Esperwild. My actions brought me more options within the usage of the spell, which said some interesting things about the nature of magic itself and what I might be able to do with it. I didn't quite have concrete thoughts on what that could mean for the future of my spellcraft, but it was a cinder of inspiration I would keep warm for now. The grimoire also offered me insight into the balayang, which were a fireproof species of esper whose young grew incredibly fast, encouraged by a healthy diet. Fortunately, balayang were fairly omnivorous, and Wysteria and Grajo both were happy to do a little extra hunting to keep him fed. So long as we weren't starving, he should reach full-size in a few months, which sounded incredibly uncomfortable. I remembered the shin splints and side stitches of my own growing pains and hoped the little guy wouldn't be put through similar suffering. Obviously, there was no way he could fight until he was a little bigger. Wanting to bond with him and be a more active part in training saw me following Red in the mornings when he ran the others through their drills, bleary-eyed with the balayang nestled in my hands when he wasn't imitating the drills himself. I couldn't quite bring myself to name him, yet. It made him feel like a pet, and I wanted a stronger relationship with him. Of course, parents named their children, and I would be partly responsible for his upbringing… but that brought up a different set of uncomfortable feelings.

That discomfort was easy enough to bury in the literal light of Vil Kayman as we approached Quatjur afternoon. Glass jars full of literal fireflies hung on strings between buildings across the main drag. The streets were scattered with bright and colorful flower petals, and music filled the air. I expected to see more mawon'nwa in the city, but instead the predominant people were huge, girthy alligator-folk, all dressed in their Barbavian equivalent of Sunday best, blowing horns, throwing fistfuls of petals in the air, laughing, dancing, and reveling in the celebration. Yveline padded forward with a smirk on her face.

"Ahhh," she purred, "Lobster Quatjur. If I do not see you again, it was a pleasure making your acquaintance."

"Thank you," I said a bit rushed, trying to be polite but also squeeze my follow-up question in before she disappeared into the crowd. Unfortunately, I failed in the face of her eagerness to join the festivities, shouting a bit in hopes she might turn around. "Wait, what's Lobster Quatjur?"

"What's Lobster Quatjur?" A thunderous, rich voice echoed my question in disbelief. A well-to-do-looking gator-man in a dapper red-and-white striped vest stepped through the swinging doors of a nearby establishment, gaudy rings on his fingers and a black bow-tie about his considerable throat. "Boy, you must be new around here."

"I am, in fact." I wasn't trembling at the sheer enormity of this man. I wasn't. He was a genial reptile of leisure by the looks of him, and we'll ignore that he could probably devour most of my body with one clap of his toothy jaws.

"Ça c'est bon, son! Allow me to offer my services as a purveyor of our local custom! An education on the resplendence of our tradition, if you will, and a delicious one at that!" He tipped his black bowler with its red ribbon and offered a low bow that put him roughly at eye level with me. "My name is Sweet Henri, and I am honored to both make your acquaintance and introduce you to the festivities at hand."

"I'm Glenn Anura," I dipped my body in something resembling his bow and tried to swallow the lump of tension in my throat as I did, though I was still too nervous by the sheer enormity of him to take my eyes away. "This is Wysteria, Grajo, Red, and Tanis Vex." Even if he had a name, the balayang was sleeping soundly in the blankets at the top of my pack, and I had no desire to rouse him unnecessarily.

"Enchanté," he grinned with a waggling eyebrow toward Wysteria and Tanis. That word I recognized unequivocally as French, whose equivalent here was the High Tongue that Tanis said was basically a dead language.

"Forgive me for asking, but you speak High Tongue?"

"Un petit peu," he smirked. "L'garto like to keep as much of it in circulation as possible, though the fiddlier bits are unfortunately lost to the ages. Don't anybody know most of it anymore, but it was the language of old Grampere, an' we like to keep his soul alive in words, stories, songs, and gatherin's just like this one." Despite the complexity of his words, he spoke slowly and clearly enough that I didn't have a hard time understanding him around his somewhat flat, nasal accent.

"And Grampere is… ?"

"Mais sha! You really are new here!"

"I'm from about as far away and up the river as you can get," I admitted with a chuckle. The nerves were finally starting to leave and reduce the tension in my spine, so of course it was time for him to clap a massive claw on my shoulder and laugh.

"Ah, but you sure do know a good turn of phrase, yeah? All right. Sweet Henri gon' tell you all 'bout Grampere, Lobster Quatjur, Vil Kayman, an' the l'garto people, each a one. We gon' learn you a thing or two today, sha."

"Learn away," I gestured with enthusiasm. His fingers tightened around me before slapping me jovially on the back in the general direction of the crowd.

"Merci, Glenn Anura. I do take particular joy in tellin' tales. So let's start with the biggest an' most presently pertinent, the origin of Lobster Quatjur. Y'all know what lobster is, yeah? Them mudbugs, the bigger ones with the claws? Long like a sausage, not fat like a duck breast, if you will. That's crabs."

"I am familiar with lobsters, yes."

"Good good! So, it's a long long time to tell, before any us l'garto were even swimmin' in the swamp, see. Just old Grampere an' the bebettes that've been here since before time was tickin'. Defan Grampere was the first of us; we come from him just the same as we came from our mamas an' papas, but further back down the line. You think I'm a big fella, shoooo-weee! Grampere stood ten feet tall if he was an inch. White scales like Northern snow, big teeth of course, an' eyes all milky white like you'd think he was bereft of sight!" Sweet Henri impressively painted a picture with his words and broad gesticulations, almost skillful as the way he steered us toward a particular food cart as opposed to the many others we passed along the way. I'm sure Red picked up on it much sooner than I did, but it was still pretty obvious getting business for his friends was part of the whole tour guide schtick. It didn't bother me; nothing was free and we were absolutely going to make a few purchases for fresh, hot food after so much time in the wild anyhow. "Y'all hungry? My cousin Martine make the best boudin an' shrimp an' grits gold can buy, I guarantee."

"Ah, you're too kind, Sweet Henri." Martine was a slimmer l'garto (the name for the alligator-people, as I'd gathered) but had a broader frame and more muscular arms. Clothing style varied from what I'd call high fantasy to even somewhat modern Earth fare from what I'd seen on my travels thus far, but seeing the off-white T-shirt, apron, and tiny hat you'd expect to be worn by a line cook in a 50's diner was somewhat jarring. We bought a few sausages and a single bowl of shrimp and grits to share, cumbersome as it was to carry and eat with the rest of our luggage.

"Now, don't fill up too far! We still got plenty of story to tell an' more local flavors to sample, yeah?"

"We've been livin' off hard tack an' burnt game the last few weeks, Henri," Red blurted around bites of sausage. "There's a long way to go before our bellies are full."

"Mais sha! Now, that's what I like to hear!" His belly-laugh seemed to light a candle of mirth within each of us with the kind of infectious joy I rarely experienced firsthand. "So as I was sayin', long time ago Grampere was sittin' in his rockin' chair on the porch of his stilt house out in Marekaj, an' he gets envie for some lobster."

"Ahn-vee?" I asked, managing to swallow a heavenly lump of buttery grits before I opened my mouth.

"Envie, yeah, like when you get a powerful hunger that rumbles your guts, you know. You can also say it like for other things, like you got envie to see the ocean, but mostly 'round here we say it to mean we wanna eat!"

"I think I already have envie for another bowl of shrimp and grits," Tanis smirked, scraping the bottom of the paper receptacle with a flat, wooden spoon.

"There's more where that came from, boo, an' the fais do-do goes on all night, so you got plenty of time to eat, dance, an' party to your heart's content!"

"I like this guy," she said just under her breath, grinning at me.

"So as I was sayin', Grampere got the envie somethin' fierce for fresh lobster. Big man like Grampere, you got a big big appetite, too, sha, so he have a couple home-made lobster traps sittin' in the pond down by his shack. Now, a shack to him, that was a verifiable mansion to folk like us, 'cuz what you can make do with Grampere's magic is more than what common l'garto can scratch up, hear? High walls painted fine, sturdy posts to keep her up out the water, roof thatched with the finest reeds an' kept dry with the finest slick. Beautiful pictorials on the walls, hand-painted by Grampere himself, of course, 'cuz weren't much other folk around to paint 'em back then, an' Grampere was a talented man with a brush in his own right, see."

"Sounds impressive," I agreed.

"Impressive! Shoooot. I ain't even got to the furnishin's yet! But maybe that's another story for another day, save for that big 'ol rockin' chair Grampere been settin' a spell in. Hand-crafted, hand-carved out the finest wood in Marekaj, nary a creak nor crack no matter how fat an' fed he was when he sat down in it. An' that was exactly the description of his intentions after surveying an' consuming his accumulated lobster hoard! So Grampere eases up out of his rocker an' goes for a swim, goes for a walk, spends a half-day navigatin' his way down to the pond where the lobsters come in. An' every stroke, every step his mouth is waterin' more an' more over the bounty of bebettes he's about to feast upon. Speakin' of mouth-waterin'…" He slowed his bustle as we arrived at a live grill with jerked poultry sizzling and a variety of tangy sauces on display. "This is Deaf Laurent, cousin of a cousin if you will. He can't hear none on account of the time he almost drowned as a child, but you hold up one finger for duck, two for duck an' rice, an' three for duck, rice, and andouille. Y'all still hungry, right? Did I get that clear?"

We offered a round of acknowledgement and negotiated our options before I held up three fingers for the dark-scaled and scarred Deaf Laurent to hear. I was always delighted to find the different naming conventions cultures used, in Barbavia especially. Names like Tanis Vex and Sweet Henri weren't that different, after all, but the lack of what the culture I hailed from would call a 'proper' surname made them more fun somehow, more individually indicative than what was the norm back home. If you were John Smith, it meant you were probably the son of some guy who's last name was Smith, but hundreds of years ago it would mean you were the town smith, and your son would probably be Smithson. Would Barbavian culture someday reach that commonality? Would population increase eventually mean there'd be a world full of Vexsons or Vexdotters? If things worked that way for Sweet Henri, would his descendants be the Sweets or the Henris? These were the only intelligible thoughts that filled my head as I enjoyed my portion of the meal, most of them simply being exaltations of tender meet, savory spice, and absolutely perfect fluffy, white rice. Sweet Henri mercifully allowed us a moment to revel in the flavors before continuing our tour down the main drag and the rest of his story.

"Mais sha, where were we? Ah, yes. Grampere was lickin' his chops an' hustlin' on down to the pond where his lobster traps would surely provide him the kind of feast fit for a figure of his stature and import. He walks through the grass, walks through the reeds, plants his feet in the mud of the bank an' grabs the chain of one of his home-made lobster traps in both claws. Hand over hand, end over end, Grampere fishes his trap out the pond… and wouldn't you know it? He pulls it up empty!"

"Land sakes!" I couldn't tell if Tanis was mocking him or just trying to join in the fun of his folksy style of speech, but either way the l'garto didn't seem offended.

"Sure enough! Now one empty basket didn't bother Grampere none; he had to have a dozen an' a half sunk deep in those murky waters. Even a quarter of that amount would be enough for a respectable supper. So he goes to the next trap, he grabs the chain, an' he puts his back into it. Claw over claw, little by little, he fishes that trap up out the water an' once again… empty." Henri paused for effect, but the only response was written on our faces as our mouths were full chewing amazing food of our own. If this was the kind of cooking I could expect from Vil Kayman, I'd regain all the weight I'd lost in the Commonwealth by staying here for just a week. "So he goes to the next one, as you do, on down the line, an' pulls up each a one, hand over claw, little by little, end over end, an' finds each a one empty as the day he put 'em in the mud. Now, at first he thinks maybe his home-made lobster traps is faulty, you understand. Sometimes when you make somethin' with your own two claws it's not as sturdy as a professional, even when you're Grampere. Except more than an amateur Grampere was humble, as each lobster trap was a slick example of the finest craftsmanship you ever did see. At this point, Grampere is fit to be tied! He's so mad he reaches into the water, grabs a catfish by the tail, and he slaps it right about the face! An' Grampere is so strong, of course, his slap is so fast that the heat from the friction of his scaly palm cooks that fish right then an' there, well past done an' well done into burnt. Bein' hungry as he is, he eats it, and finds it is the most succulent fish he ever did consume. An' that's the story of how we got the recipe for blackened catfish right there, a little bonus tale inside a tile, if you will." He folded his hands humbly around his belly, giving us a moment to laugh and navigate a particularly thick gathering of folks dancing to strings, horns, concertinas, and throaty vocals. This was only made more difficult by the abundance of our packs, especially for Tanis who was still carrying the lion's share of our gear.

"If we can stop you for a moment, Sweet Henri?" He quirked a scaled brow at me over a thin-pupiled yellow-green eye. "Sorry to interrupt, but do you know if there's a good room to rent around here? Somewhere we can set down our pack before seeing the rest of the festival?"

"Of course! Of course, sha, sorry for makin' you lug all that so far already. If I'd thought of it sooner I'd have directed you toward an inn closer to the town's gates. But ah, you're just in luck. Around the corner here is the establishment of a family friend; Magnolia Meadows. Tell the girl at the desk I sent you an' she'll set you right, for sure. If y'all could drink I'll gather up some sweet tea while you get configured?"

"That sounds great, Henri, thank you."

We moved to the building in question, a very large, fancy inn with a boardwalk full of rocking chairs out front and thick pillars and walls comprising its structure. It made sense l'garto would need bigger, sturdier accommodations for their size, which was a delightful trade-off for us smaller folk. I wondered if this was how Red felt setting foot into any inn or tavern we spent the night at on our travels. Magnolia Meadows had lots of windows adorned by fluttering white cloth curtains bearing large floral patterns, and the shrubs and trees around it made it seem like you stepped off a busy street and into an isolated garden manor. We rented just one room and paid up a few days in advance since I wasn't sure how different the process might be to register a fight, how long that would take, and how much we'd like to stay after. It was hard to tell if Vil Kayman was just busy from the festival, or if chainer traffic was adding to the density of people in the celebration. There were certainly a fair amount of non-l'garto eating, dancing, and laughing among us as we followed Sweet Henri, but there wasn't anything easily identifiable as an esper among them.

After sharing a bit of sausage with the balayang, we left him in the room to sleep it off. Wysteria and Grajo remained behind to stand guard for the little guy, and also to have some rest themselves; smaller stomachs meant smaller appetites, and they'd eaten considerably better given hunted bugs, fish, and game were much more in their traditional meal wheelhouse. I splashed some water on my face and the remaining three of us met Henri downstairs, his arms full of iced tea in jars not unlike the ones full of dancing lightning bugs that swayed in the breeze over our heads. It was more citrussy than I liked my tea, but it still felt a relief to drink from the heat. The weather was tolerable thanks to what amounted to winter in this climate, especially out of the moisture of the swamp proper, but the press of people radiating their own body heat nearby made it feel like a sunny summer day. I wondered if l'garto were endothermic, or ectothermic like their Earth counterparts? I hadn't noticed Henri or any of his cousins sweating, though that didn't say much as most non-humans didn't sweat either. Was the celebration so fun in part because all the heat of all the people partying brought their spirits up? So many questions, so few polite ways to ask without coming across as intrusive or creepy.

"What do we owe you for the tea, Henri?" I did not mean to rhyme those last two words, but it happened, and I rolled with it.

"On the house, sha. Don't say Sweet Henri never did nothin' for ya." Oh, he was good. Much like a free drink at a fast food joint, the sort of good will not forcing someone to pay ten times the price for ten cents of sugar water far eclipsed the loss in the first place. "You want a refill, though, that's on you. Modeste has an iced tea an' lemonade stand just up the street a piece. Them's her glasses an' she'd see you a discount on the next one if you returned with 'em."

"Then let's stop there and fill up again before we continue."

Modeste and every other female l'garto I'd seen basically just seemed like slightly smaller versions of the males. In fact, if you'd taken a picture of Modeste and told me she was the 'before' to Deaf Laurent's scarred-up 'after', I would believe you. She made one hell of a glass of sweet tea, though, something she insisted was sun-brewed according to a recipe passed down her family line for generations. Red and I had another round, but Tanis opted for a strawberry lemonade with little chunks of fruit and pulp floating around inside the glass. It looked delectable, and I made a mental note to return to Modeste's stall for a glass before I hit the hay.

"Now where was I?" Henri pondered aloud as we resumed the walk. The sun was starting to set now, the lights of the fireflies more prominent.

"Grampere just invented blackened catfish," Red intoned.

"Ah, yes! Thank you, Red. So while old Grampere's hunger was curbed a bit, his mood hadn't lightened none, and he decided to dive down into the pond an' root out the culprit who must've done made off with his rightfully-trapped abundance of crustaceans. Now, you know how it is down there in the mire; it can be hard to see your own claws in front of your face, nevermind discover someone who don't wanna be found. But Defan Grampere is a clever sort; instead of stirrin' up the mud he settles down on the bottom of the pond like a big white log, an' he holds his breath… an' he waits. The sun rises, the sun sets, sun rises, sun sets, years or hours pass by and eventually somethin' else at the bottom of the lake stirs, an' out swims this beast covered in slimy, olive-green, shaggy plants goin' straight for the trap. SNAP! Grampere jumps up from his hidin' spot an tackles him, an' they're a-fussin' an' a-fightin', stirrin' up mud and the whole water! Now a slap from Grampere can flash-fry a catfish, so you best bet whatever beast he's tanglin' with can go, an anything else in that lake was writin' correspondence to their realtor with such a tussle goin' on in their sittin' room.

"Now, I don't know if you've ever found yourself in a fight while blind from the muck, nice young drylander such as yourself, but you just keep throwin' fists an' elbows an' knees and such until you can't throw no more. An' Grampere has a legendary fortitude among his other enviable qualities, so he an' his opponent went on well into the night until neither of 'em could take it anymore an' they flopped up onto the shore. Well, of course Grampere was curious to see his opponent in this confrontation of epic proportions. But instead of a creature covered in slime an' kelp, it's a creature made of slime an' kelp… the Muckman!"

"The Muckman?" I asked, making sure I'd heard him correctly.

"The Muckman!" He repeated.

"What's a Muckman?" Tanis asked.

"It's a man made of muck," Henri said simply.

"I withdraw my question," Tanis giggled.

"This wasn't the first time Grampere an' the Muckman had crossed paths, now, sha. That Muckman would always be tryin' to pull one over on Grampere, tryin' to reach past his grasp an' all that. So Grampere sits on the bank of the pond an' asks old Muckman, 'Muckman! Why did you steal my crop of lobsters from my lobster traps?' An' Muckman says 'Well, I was just down by the pond, an' I had envie for some o' them big mudbugs, an' I saw the chain for your lobster traps and thought I'd help myself.' Now, mind you, the Muckman is big to be sure, but he's nowhere near as big as Grampere and can't eat near as much. So Grampere, knowin' this, asks him 'Muckman, did you really eat all my lobsters?' an' Muckman says 'no, sir, some of them escaped while I got 'em out the trap an' swam away. I suppose I ate about half.' So Grampere sighs a long long sigh, all the way out through the tip of his snout an' says 'Muckman, if you were so hungry, how come you didn't just ask? You know I woulda shared my lobsters with you.' Because, see, despite their many quarrels, Grampere is a wise an' forgiving sort. Well, the Muckman goes quiet for a real long time after that, an' there ain't a bit of noise between the mangroves but the rumblin' of Grampere's stomach. Muckman hears this of course, an he says 'Grampere, I am a bit hungry after our fight,' an' Grampere says 'yeah?' an' he says 'yeah,' an' Grampere says 'but we don't have any lobsters now,' an' Muckman says 'well, no, but there's plenty of catfish an' duck, shrimps an' crawfish. There's greens an' rice, an' the whole bounty of Marekaj before us. I reckon we could make a fine meal on that even without lobster.' And so Grampere agrees, an the two spend the rest of that Quatjur evenin' gatherin' food an' cookin' up a feast, an' that was the first Lobster Quatjur."

"A whole day named after lobster and they didn't even eat any?" Tanis queried, sipping her lemonade.

"That's the moral of the story, boo; sometimes we need to make the best we can outta what little we have. An' sometimes you need to forgive somebody who done you wrong, because of the beautiful things you can create together. On Lobster Quatjur we call in our friends an' loved ones, let bygones be bygones if just for one day, an' we eat, we laugh, an' we dance. Let the Muckman have the lobsters today; we'll make do and give him plenty else if he decide to show up."

"You guys do this every year?" Between the story, the energy of the scene, and the delectable treats on offer, I was already marking my calendar for a return trip.

"Ha! Year? Ain't a month go by without Lobster Quatjur. There's no schedule to the festivities, Glenn. Company comin' over an' you need a feast? Lobster Quatjur. Vil Kayman gone too long without a fais do-do? Lobster Quatjur. It doesn't even necessarily have to be Quatjur! Ujur, Trojur, in the middle of another holiday? They're all liable to become Lobster Quatjur."

"Jeeze, Henri. Maybe I should move here," I joked. "L'garto sure now how to live."

"Ah, you say that now, sha, just imagine how you gonna feel after dessert! Y'all hungry for some pralines? Beignets? Bananas Fabienne?"

"I might be sick in the mornin', but at this point I'll eat anything this guy mentions, chief," Red grinned my way and I looked to Tanis who nodded her head in enthusiastic confirmation.

"Sounds like we've all got a sweet tooth. Lead the way, Sweet Henri!"

"Let us gourmandize, then! Allons!"

 

[Wightraven]

Even after the end of Lobster Quatjur, Vil Kayman was one hell of a party town. Music flowed through the air regularly, dancing through the window of my room at the inn. Much of my time there was spent relaxing at the lovely, wooden rolltop desk and taking in the harmonica, concertina, and soulful lyrics. I spent almost an entire day there in thought, considering a choice before me that Red proposed. We had yet to properly schedule a battle in the coliseum because in doing so we had the choice of how many espers to register; two or three. The more we fought with, the greater the prize for victory as the League recognizes much of a chainer's finances are dedicated to feeding and caring for their espers, but we'd also be facing an equivalent amount of espers from the Gladiator. On one hand, more financial stability was a tempting prospect on the next leg of our journey through the desert and both Wysteria and Grajo were much more capable than they were in Astonia. On the other, the balayang was far too small to fight. Even if he'd already grown an inch or two since I'd first linked him, it would be quite a while before he were any size for fighting, and taking out three opposing espers might still be a bit much for just the rest of the team.

"I wish we knew more about the new Gladiator," I lamented over dinner Cinjur evening.

"I mean, it'd be nice but it's only so much help," he shrugged after swallowing a sizeable bite of fried catfish. "I wouldn't worry yourself too much about it. Would it help us strategize? Sure. But it's not like Gladiators got any obligation to make their rosters public, so havin' intel like that is a luxury in the first place."

"If we weren't so far behind the rest of the circuit, we could just spectate a fight," I grumbled to myself. "Or just ask somebody."

"Quick kickin' yourself for somethin' you can't help, chief. Even if we were closer to the rest of the circuit, even if we did know exactly what we're up against, it's not like we're guaranteed to have a counter for it. Sometimes you just gotta let the espers do their thing and hope for the best, y'know? It's not like there's any shame in takin' multiple attempts to score a victory at the coliseum."

"Maybe we should take a few more days to train, then?" It felt a bit like grasping at straws, but it would put my mind at ease having some kind of advantage, or at least feeling like I did. "I have some Xp left to spend as well, if you think that'd help?"

"Every little bit does, but I wouldn't sweat too much about it if you wanna hold some back."

By now, Tanis and Red had both become familiar with my tendencies toward spending my experience. If I'd followed up on my original plan and dropped some of my stash into my Aptitude, I could reasonably expect to have twenty in stock after the next interval, which would give me ten to spend guilt-free. Twenty if I was willing to risk not needing the extra ten for an emergency spell or Trait, which I was since I got so much bonus Xp last time we won at a coliseum. He had a point, though; nothing was stopping me from learning, failing, and trying again. Hell, I could put up stakes here in Vil Kayman, get a steady enough job to keep the balayang fed until he became fully grown, and then take on the Gladiator and still probably have plenty of time to make the rest of the circuit and participate in the tournament. Three Barbavian months was more like four and a half Earth months, so the math seemed reasonable, though I was much less inclined to take the risk of something unexpected and terrible happening, forcing us to miss the tournament until next year. We weren't in a rush, but that didn't mean I wanted to be dallying overmuch. At the same time, taking a couple of swings at the fight probably wouldn't take but a week or so at most.

"Have you decided if you're addin' the newbie to the team or not yet?"

"I think I just did," I responded after scraping the bowl for the last slurp of gumbo. I leaned back in my chair and patted a full, happy tummy. "I've been waffling a lot and every time I think I've come to a decision, five minutes later I change my mind for what seems like a glaringly obvious reason. But… if we've got the time and resources to stay here for a couple runs at the coliseum, then it's worth it to get the bigger payout when we finally succeed."

"Sounds like we better set it up before you change your mind again. The League office is open for another hour," he inclined his head toward the door, having finished his own meal. "I'd be happy to join ya, as usual."

"Yeah, we probably should…"

Despite my conviction just seconds beforehand, a lump formed in my throat as the automobile of my anxiety warmed up its engine. Still, Red was right; there was no sense waiting around for things to change that wouldn't. I paid for our meals and we walked through the balmy evening streets of Vil Kayman, warmth mitigated by the cool breeze and the setting sun. The capital of Marekaj had wide streets to accommodate the massive size of its primary percentage of population, looking even larger for the lack of food carts and celebrants. Everything was very organized into grids of buildings unlike the scattered settlements in Teren Balt, and there was enough room between most of them for alleyways, unlike the tight, clustered buildings in Astonia. The League office was about as nice as Magnolia Meadows, although obviously much smaller. A lazy fan made of dried reeds woven into the shape of a broad leaf twirled over the head of the l'garto behind the desk. She wore a silk shirt and crisp white pants, putting on a much more casual air than the man in Brum.

"Evenin', sha! What can I do you for?"

"I'm Glenn Anura and this is Red. We're here to register our team for a fight at the coliseum?"

"Ah, Red Company, right? I done heard about y'all. Matter o' fact, we been expectin' ya."

"You… have?" I turned to Red, anticipating him nodding to inform me that was a thing; that the League communicated potential arrivals, but he shrugged his shoulders, bewildered. "Is… that a good thing?"

"Ain't a bad thing," she smiled. "Standard League rules, of course. Y'all are already registered, so that's taken care of. Two espers or three?"

"Three," I exhaled a breath I felt like I'd been holding since dinner. I didn't like that she seemed to know the exact numbers of my dilemma. Both Red and the clerk back in Brum had suggested that they didn't much keep up on people with a low media profile like us, so why did this lady know exactly what questions to ask?

"Still the terramor toad and the nachtkrapp, right?"

"And a balayang," Red supplied with a nod.

"And a balayang~! Very good." L'garto smiles still unnerved me a bit. Maybe it was from watching Captain Hook get swallowed up at the end of that Robin Williams film as a kid, or some kind of inborn concern for something with that big a mouth and that many teeth. I didn't like feeling that way, but my stomach tightening at the sight of all those pearly whites wasn't an intentional reaction. "We can fit y'all in as soon as tomorrow mornin'. Coliseum closes too soon to do it tonight," she added.

"Can we do it at noon?" My mouth went dry as I blurted the time out. That was much faster than the fight against Alexsandr. I was expecting a few more days to work things out in my head, to train, but something inside me was inclined to get on with it. Maybe it was Michael's voice urging his best Graham Chapman impression in the back of my skull.

"After breakfast, eh? Man after my own heart," she purred, scratching down the appointment in her logbooks. "Well then, lovelies, you're all set! Be sure to get yourselves a good night's rest an' eat well in the mornin'. I look forward to seein' the show!"

Something about the entire affair didn't sit right with me, but what's done was done. I put any and all uneasy feelings from my mind and focused on the things I had influence over; making sure Wysteria and Grajo were well-fed and fighting fit, considering a Trait purchase before bed, and trusting in my team. Of course, believing in myself and making peace with the idea we might lose were also essential; if I wavered it would cost us victory, just like my unease in Yukiori undoubtedly had an influence on blowing the last fight. It wasn't that I was blaming myself, I reasoned internally, just that I needed to be a stronger chainer for every challenge ahead of us. Red stopped me before I unlocked the door to our room, tugging at my pantleg.

"Hey." He waited until I looked down to meet his golden-eyed gaze before continuing. "Relax. This ain't life or death; it's a League fight. There'll be healers there besides you, an' we do this for sport, not for blood. Don't let that big balayang from before rent a room in your head, all right? An' don't put too much pressure on yourself. We'll either win or learn somethin' so we win next time, right?"

"Right." The words came a bit cracked and hoarse, my mouth still dry despite the humidity.

"You got this," he assured me, patting me on the calf as I opened the door.

Sleep came more willingly than expected. I had anticipated needing to run through my own version of counting sheep at least once before submitting to slumber, but between the air conditioning orb in the room that was enchanted to emit a steady stream of frost and Tanis' arms and one leg wrapped around my body, I felt comfortable and at peace. The last few hours of our night was spent talking strategy and discussing options for what we may need to do to make money if we ended up remaining in Vil Kayman longer than anticipated. Both of my companions were rather tight-lipped about their exact intentions, but they assured me they'd handle it if push came to shove. I suspected 'minor crimes' was their shared solution and didn't pry any further to maintain plausible deniability.

Waking up felt like a chore, like I was going to my own execution or something. I lingered in bed well after my first brush with consciousness, drifting in and out of sleep for at least an half hour more before Tanis' gentle voice urged me to get up and face the day. As much as I expected to feel detached from my eggs and crepes as I ate them, they were far too delicious and commanded my attention. A full meal left me feeling a bit more hopeful and a bit more confident as we made our way together to Vil Kayman's coliseum; a large open-air stadium not unlike a baseball park. The reception chamber felt like an alternate flavor of the one in Brum with the same general structure of two registration desk with curved staircases beside them and concessions on the upper floor, but instead of the dark wood and bright colors of Astonia, it was a paler cedar decorated with woven reeds and spots of wicker. There was no esper statue standing regal in the center of the room, though there was a rather empty-looking pedestal with a very natural-looking pond full of flowers, plant life, and colorful catfish. In fact, a lot of the coliseum looked empty, but the other establishments in Vil Kayman did seem to prefer a more open-air, minimalist approach to design in their interiors. The five of us approached the right desk as we had in Brum while Tanis joined the short queue for spectator's tickets, giving me a small peck on the cheek for luck before she departed.

"We're Red Company," I announced politely to the l'garto receptionist, who was altogether more scruffy-looking than I expected. "We have a fight at noon?"

"Sure do!" He laughed. "Glad to have ya. The Gladiator's good n' ready, so head into the hall on the right an' we'll fetch you just soon."

The hall, again, was almost exactly the same as Brum with a small catering table, workout equipment, and seating. For the time being I preferred to stand, which was often my choice when my nerves were playing at me. The balayang was in my hands, awake and in a playful mood, so that kept me from going too deep into pessimistic thoughts. Unlike our bout against Alexsandr where the risk involved in approaching the fight was minimal and mostly in my head, we were walking into what amounted to a two-on-three fight. Grajo and Wysteria were tough and had only gotten stronger, but were they that tough? Was I that much more capable as a coach? It was me who threw in the towel while he was still willing to fight. Was my kindness holding him back more than helping him? Should I trust him better to know his limits? Wysteria was new to this, but Grajo was a veteran fighter. This was also a match with a lot more on the line than some extra money, although that certainly was a part of it. One of the most frustrating things about trying to put tactics was the truth to the old axiom 'no plan survives first contact with the enemy'. You had to have dozens of plans, hundreds even. Contingencies for everything that could and would go wrong. But that kind of behavior ultimately wouldn't be very practical. One had to rely on the decision-making of their espers when the unexpected arose.

"Awright, Red Comp'ny. Allons!" The receptionist shook me from my trance with a giant, scaled arm and his snout peeking around the corner, beckoning us forward.

The sun hung fat in the air at high noon, and without the swamp's heavy tree cover it forced me to squint my eyes. My purple and black dress robes were already sticking to me, skin damp with a sweat that was born of both nerves and heat. The stands were slightly fuller today, a dozen or so l'garto and a few mawon'nwa who were mostly silhouettes against the bright sky. Tanis was also easy enough to spot, the only humanoid shape among the rest. Just next to her was another l'garto whose hat gave him away as Sweet Henri. Unlike the previous coliseum, the circle of natural terrain surrounded by magic in the center of the arena was utterly barren earth. Solid ground seemed like a reasonable enough place to hold a battle, but I knew the kind of magic a Gladiator could employ before a fight and didn't get too excited that Grajo and Wysteria wouldn't have to deal with hazards.

"Entering the Vil Kayman Coliseum, the chainer Glenn Anura, Red Company, and their coach and namesake, Red the grimalkin!" I couldn't quite see into the box and identify the League judge, but he certainly didn't have a prominent accent like all the other locals I'd met possessed. His voice was rich and rolling with a flair for the dramatic: perfect for a sports announcer. Surprisingly, this time Tanis' voice and applause weren't the only ones I heard showing their support for the team. "They present challenge today in an entry-level contest under standard League rules to our new Gladiator… Yveline!"

My heart couldn't decide whether to sink or eject itself from my throat as the mawon'nwa who saved my life and led us here stepped from the shadows below the stands at the opposite end of the pitch, so instead it fluttered sickeningly up and down. With every step, her magic expressed itself like a breath of life and the flat terrain within the barrier before me sprouted with verdant plant-life and blooming flowers. The earth darkened rapidly, moistening and softening at first to mud and then to the thick, murky water I'd become so familiar with traveling through the swamps of Marekaj. Yveline gave me a coy but somewhat apologetic nod, and I remembered the sound of her jeweled braids settling into place as she sat down more than I actually heard it above the roaring support of the crowd for their hometown hero.

"Three espers from each team will fight in single elimination format until that esper is unable to continue combat or the chainer concedes defeat," the judge continued. I was, of course, familiar with the rules, but hearing them announced again put me into a place of calm focus that I welcomed. My heart stopped fluttering so much and I tried to ease out my nerves with a prolonged exhale. "Chainers can choose to withdraw and exchange their espers at any time during the fight by declaring their intentions, and the opponent is compelled to grant the competing esper egress until their replacement enters the arena."

"Tree espers," Yveline purred. "Wysteria, Grajo, and… piti?"

"Yeah," I nodded.

"He is small for a fight, is he not?"

"He is."

"Do you tink because of dis I will go easy on you? Dat my espers will hold back from what dey are capable of?"

"No," I shook my head. "You're a Gladiator, and you have the honor of your title to uphold. I expect you'll give your best, just as you have in everything else I've seen you do."

"Very well, den. Your first opponent will be against Ophelie, my first esper."

"Then I'll respond in kind. Wysteria?"

The terramor toad regarded me with a nod before hopping across the barrier and into the water. She landed with a splash, her eyes poking out just above the surface and indicating the artificial swamp couldn't have been more than a few inches deep. Wysteria swam forward and met another small, swimming creature; a skrat with deep brown fur instead of the typical black I'd seen. On one hand, Wysteria had plenty of practice against this esper in particular. On the other, I wondered if it might not have some kind of special advantage indicated by its unusual coloration. Either way, we were about to find out. Wysteria was ready, Ophelie swam into place, the sun dappling every small wave made by her movement, and the crowd bubbled to a buzzing hype, all of us in anticipation of the judge's magically-enhanced booming voice.

"BEGIN!!!"

The skrat out-sped Wysteria, breeching of the water and landing on her back with a vicious bite before she could really react. In response, Wysteria unleashed her Venomous Vapors and rolled into the water, trying to dislodge Ophelie. Unfortunately, the rodent's claws dug in deep, causing croaks of pain amidst the splashing fracas. Despite her many advantages, Wysteria wasn't equipped for someone of similar size to be assaulting her from above, as her primary method of attack aside from her vapors was her own powerful jaws. I didn't like how little I could see of her in the water, with all the mud occluding the finer points of their battle, but the skrat was making just as many pained noises, so I took that as a positive. Or, at least, less negative than my sweet Wysteria getting her ass handed to her in a one-sided contest.

"Come on, Wysteria!" Red whooped it up and began clapping. I wasn't sure how much she could hear, but encouragement sounded better than silence, so I joined him.

"Get out from under her! Come on, Wysteria! I believe in you!"

It's impossible to know how much cheering her on really helped, but in any case she finally managed to dislodge the skrat and waddled to a small bank of dry land. Ophelie stayed in pursuit, an incredible swimmer in her own right, moving through the water with a determined wiggle of her hips and long tail. The poison seemed to be having more of an affect on her now than when she first arrived on the pitch, however, and she frequently had to poke her bone-covered nose out of the water to gasp for air. This slight advantage granted Wysteria enough opportunity to dive from the land and into the water, splatting directly on top of her opponent in a literal frog splash.

"Órale, vato!" I slapped my chest a few times in excitement, but stopped short of the chest-shaking gesture Eddie Guerrero was equally famous for. Was it gauche to mark out for my own esper? Perhaps. But I was overflowing with pride for her in that moment.

Cloudy bubbles began floating up from the water where Wysteria had pinned Ophelie, the occasional squeak or croak eking from the water as they began their struggle anew. This time it was the terramor toad on top, and while the skrat had a neck more capable of reaching around and biting at her opponent, Wysteria was holding on tight and using her commendable weight to keep her down, focusing any spare moment to unleash the noxious lavender fumes. They seemed to be not doing quite as much as they had against other skrats, but the water may have played a larger factor in their successful dispersal and, as a Gladiator's esper, Ophelie was no doubt more tenacious, more durable. Eventually the fight in the water grew still, only Wysteria's blinking eyes visible protruding above the surface.

"Enough," Yveline snapped. Dutifully, my friend the terramor toad backed off her opponent and Ophelie limply began paddling her way back toward her team's end of the court. "Typically I am de one pushing opponents to de brink of drowning in mini-Marekaj. I assumed your amphibious ally would have de advantage here."

The skrat climbed up out of the water and collapsed beside Yveline, who nudged a cup of broth toward her with a paw. After a moment of labored breathing, Ophelie righted herself and lapped at the brew, which seemed to abate the effects of Venomous Vapors. Within the swamp, Wysteria had at some point made her way back to dry land, perched proudly with something of a smile on her typically implacable lips. There were a couple of small scratches and bite marks on her body, but only one deep enough that it was still bleeding. I winced at the sight, a motherly instinct within me burning for the pain she must be feeling. The toad, however, looked unshaken. Emboldened, even. She blinked the left eye, then the right, and looked over her shoulder toward Red and I.

"Good job, Wysteria!" I smiled. "Are you all right to stay in?" She burped in response, then brought her attention back to the fight.

"The first fall goes to the challenger," the judge announced, and the healthier Vil Kayman crowd gave its response of mixed cheers and boos. It kind of sucked to have people actively rooting against me, but the unquestioning support from so many people I'd never even met tempered those bad feelings. "Yveline, please prepare your second esper. Red Company, do you wish to substitute at this time?"

"No, we do not."

"Well done, Glenn Anura. You may not know dis, but I have not long been a chainer. Only last year did I make my first challenge to become Grand Champion, and while it was a failing effort it impressed de people of Marekaj enough dat I was nominated as Gladiator when my esteemed predecessor swam on to his next life."

"Something we have in common, then," I nodded. "Both being new to the sport, I mean. This is my first attempt."

"I know," she smirked. "I would have remembered you, an' you would have remembered me. But de ting to remember most is dat I have been across Barbavia myself, and not every esper I train is native to Marekaj. Raphael!"

A leathery flap of wings beat down from above, and out of the sky came a round silhouette, blackened by a dive straight out of the sun. He entered the pitch and slowed to a stop, hovering in place with steady flaps. The massive singular green eye at his center brought an image I hadn't ever quite seen in reality before; only through sketches and the dim haze of the veil on that fateful night Red and I made our first acquaintance. Unlike the others, this oeivolant was red in color, and several small fang-like spikes dotted its brow, spine, and pointed tail. He opened his equally toothy maw to bellow wordlessly, though Wysteria took the intimidation tactic about as well as she took anything else; with unperturbed silence. Despite her stony resolve, I was more than a little worried for her. She'd taken a few hits from the skrat to be sure, and I don't know how many uses of her poison gas she had remaining before she was too exhausted to continue. Assuming the energy she needed to fuel her powers worked like my relationship with mana, there couldn't be that much left in the tank. Switching her out for Grajo seemed like it might be the wiser course of action, but she didn't look half as worried as I was, so I put my faith in her determination and kept my mouth shut for now.

"BEGIN!!!" The judge's amped-up delivery shocked me a little, and I almost jumped.

Raphael the oeivolant swooped down immediately, catching Wysteria in both sets of talons and flinging her upward. They were smaller than Grajo's and looked less built for strikes and more equipped to grapple a branch or small prey, but when he was using them to fling her end-over-end I wasn't sure their inherent sharpness was much the point. Wysteria's limbs flailed as she soared, but fortunately she landed in the water with a thick 'plop'. Before nerves could turn my pride into fear, her head bobbed up out of the water just in time to belch poison in Raphael's open mouth. This caused him to cough and sputter, and while he had been diving in for a follow-up attack, he was now rolling through the murky mire himself, squeezing his eye shut and flapping at his own face with both wings.

"What do you think her odds are?" I said quietly to Red, hand covering my mouth from the crowd for a little extra privacy.

"Hard to say, chief," he shrugged and spoke in a similar tone. "Wysteria's got a lot of fight in her, but without some kinda ranged attack or a crazy-high jump she's gonna have a tough time against somethin' that can fly. An' I've had my share of run-ins with these winged eyeball bastards; they ain't slouches at the worst of times."

The toad followed Raphael as he rolled, exhaling what appeared to be the last gasp of her thinning poison cloud at him. He threw a weak kick her way, then battered her with his wings before taking off into the sky once more. Wysteria squared herself in anticipation of a return attack, and when he swooped low enough she leapt, throwing tiny toad slaps straight into his open eye. With a peeper the size of a basketball that took up most of your head, it was hard to miss, and I was surprised they weren't more protected from direct assault. He swore in Esperlang as she struck and flew upward, though Wysteria held on, digging her toes into his lower eyelid as she continued to slap him right in the sclera. Everyone seemed to collectively cringe at the ocular assault as Raphael tried in vain to bite Wysteria, both of them soaring higher. Visions of Grajo's finishing move against Ingvar the rock troll played in my mind, and even with water below I questioned Wysteria's response to being dropped from so high up.

"Don't let him drop you!" I cried out.

At this altitude I wasn't sure what her options were, but her grip on Raphael's body seemed tighter than one might expect from hands and feet that were neither sticky nor terribly dexterous. After reaching what the oeivolant must have felt was an acceptable height, he rolled forward in an attempt to pitch her off his body, but she held fast and stayed in the same spot, slapping him a few more times in the eye for the temerity of trying to shake her. Raphael rolled again, losing altitude as he did, but still Wysteria refused to relent. This was when his plan seemed to change, and instead of trying to maintain flight between his spins, he began speeding up the forward roll, tucking in his wings and swinging them both at an impressive plummet toward the muck below. I gritted my teeth as they struck, Wysteria sandwiched between the mud and Raphael's spherical body. Water spraying from the point of impact, hiding all but the red-skinned creature backing away from the spot. My heart was in my throat and pumping like the twitchy nose of a hare scenting a predator on the wind. Eventually, Wysteria weakly burbled to the surface, her eyes half-lidded and seeming to point in different directions.

"That's enough! Get back, Wysteria!"

It took her a moment to remember which direction our team was in, but she eventually made her way out of the water and rolled to a stop beside us. I rushed to meet her, throwing magic into her body to mend as many wounds as I could, just as Yveline had given her skrat some restorative brew upon her removal from the pitch. In that same vein, like when I had substituted Grajo out between fights in Brum, I had officially withdrawn Wysteria and she was no longer eligible to compete. That was fine; the more important thing was that she survived, and I saw not a trace of argument from her about the decision. My magic seemed to be filling her back out in addition to mending her wounds, though I doubted it would've restored the energy spent to activate her abilities. Perhaps there was a spell for that? I'd have to do some research.

"The second fall goes to the Gladiator! Red Company, please call your second esper to the pitch! Yveline, do you wish to substitute at this time?"

"No," she shook her head. "Raphael will see this to its conclusion."

For someone who had so selflessly tended to my wounds and brought me back from the brink of death, Yveline seemed to have a much stronger competitive streak in her than I did. Red had suggested long ago I find that within myself and bring it out to give me more drive to fight, so instead of letting the attitude roll off my back as was typically my preference, I took her smug words and balled them up, tossing them into my own inner furnace.

"Raphael's already almost choked out from Wysteria's poison. You sure you don't wanna tap him out before things get worse?"

"It may only be by a year, but I am still a veteran compared to you, Glenn. He will remain in play." A smile tugged upward at the corners of her muzzle that I couldn't quite place.

Grajo dutifully soared into the arena, lighting on a sturdy bit of greenery jutting up from the swamp. Raphael, meanwhile, coughed up a few lungfuls of Venomous Vapors before turning back to quirk a quizzical eyebrow at his chainer. Neither esper was supremely equipped to fight in the water, which was perhaps precisely why Yveline employed an oeivolant; both as a counter to espers better in the air and to surprise someone with only land or water-based options. Hell, just throwing an unexpected surprise onto the field in general would be more than enough to shatter a lesser chainer's expectations. It certainly would've cost me my wherewithal not so long ago. Having an ace in the hole might benefit my team in the future, and I resolved to also keep that option in mind; if I could stick to a team of six espers with a few options for alternates, it could play to my advantage. I wondered if that was legal once we hit the tournament, and reminded myself to ask Red later, when more pressing matters weren't at hand.

"BEGIN!"

Being a faster esper who wasn't currently full of terramor venom, Grajo had the initiative against Raphael. He flew into attack with both legs, talons scratching at that already-injured eye. This time, Raphael was anticipating the attack and squeezed it shut. Thick though it was, a nachtkrapp's predatorial claws slashing at one's eyelid couldn't be pleasant in the least. In response, Raphael beat his heavier wings and opened his mouth, snapping it for any bit of Grajo he could grasp. The oeivolant had stronger wings, and it was becoming more difficult for the avian to keep up his assault while maintaining position in the sky. This opened him up to get his ankle chomped down on, the same one that was twisted the wrong way during the fight against Alexsandr. The injury was old and long since healed, but the flashbacks of it being bent out of place curdled all of breakfast's eggs and sweet cream within my gut.

Grajo squawked in pain, then forced his body forward to rain pecks down upon the oeivolant's dome! Raphael opened his mouth to let his opponent go and re-position, revealing that Grajo had clamped his talons down around the mighty tongue of his foe! A massive, sloppy tear rolled out from Raphael's closed eye, poison coursing through his body as claws dug into what was likely the most sensitive part of his body and a sharp, pointed beak drilled repeatedly into his skull. He only managed a few cursory swipes with his own talons and a few forced flaps of his leathery wings to throw the bird off his body before he relented and hung helpless at Grajo's mercy. His eye opened and lolled backward toward his chainer, and Grajo paused his assault to meet her gaze.

"Patetik," she spat, then raised her voice to be heard by the judge. "I withdraw Raphael."

"Third fall to the challenger! This is Yveline's final esper! Red Company, do you wish to substitute at this time?"

"Nope."

Grajo released his quarry and let him fall. He caught himself with his wings before he could hit the water and fluttered weakly back across the barrier that kept the chainers and spectators safe from the effects of the fight. Noticeably, I didn't even have the slightest damp stain on my robes, despite the various spurts of water that were kicked up over the course of the battle. My nachtkrapp friend looked back at me with his good eye, nodding. He rolled his ankle joint to keep it loose and mobile, and it was thankfully still pointed in the appropriate direction. This was it; Grajo was my last functional esper and only a little worse for wear against Yveline's final combatant. For a moment, I thought she hadn't called a replacement forth, but as two eyestalks popped up above the water, I recognized her bunyip for what it was. My interactions with them in the wild were brief, merely glimpsing them as I followed the path that would eventually take me to the balayang 'father' and son. The entry in the Grimoire di Magi e Mythe I'd read earlier was a jumbled mess, even with Arcane Sight, as I'd gathered one would have to be linked to me before I could learn more like I had with grimalkin, terramor toads, and nachtkrapp. It looked unassuming enough, sort of like a cartoonish, black-skinned frog-thing with blueish lips. But Yveline would have to be a special kind of idiot to save her weakest esper for last.

"Yindi…" her voice was almost a growl, "finish dis."

"BEGIN!!!"

There were a lot of forms of attack I could've expected from the bunyip, though her neck elongating unnaturally and stretching up to bite at Grajo was not one of the. Even he seemed unnerved by it, and I wondered if he ever had occasion to do battle with a bunyip before. Grajo dodged out of the way of Yindi's snapping jaws, a flutter of feathers easily outpacing the almost laboriously slow approach of her head. He continued to try evasive maneuvers, but she seemed to be able to easily change the direction of her elastic neck and it showed no sign of stopping the chase. Her mouth was so toothy, so upsettingly similar to a human's. It was almost like she was grinning at him before her hungry jaws attempted another bite. Shaking the disturbing image from my psyche, I took a deep breath and cried out to the nachtkrapp.

"Don't let her get in your head, Grajo! Go on the offensive!"

Wysteria was notoriously unflappable, even fighting Alexsandr's midgarsormr with minimal panic for how obnoxiously outsized she was, but there was a vast gulf between 'this thing is bigger than me' when you've always been small and the abject horror of 'this thing isn't obeying physics and is smirking at me about it' that the veteran esper was currently experiencing. My voice seemed to calm his nerves somewhat, however, and he opted to assault an earlier point in the bunyip's apatosaurus-like neck. Claws scraped into flesh, and Yindi made less of a cry of pain and more of a giggly 'oops' sound before suddenly retracting the whole thing back into her body with a squelchy snap. Grajo took off like a rocket, doubling back to swoop in with a dart-like attack from his beak. The bunyip attempted another extend-o-snap, but the nachtkrapp still had her outclassed in speed. Confidence taking him, Grajo rounded again, a clash of claws drawing crimson before he bolted away out of range of Yindi's slow approach.

"Chanje taktik! Mete l 'nan dòmi!"

If there was one way to obfuscate tactical suggestions, it was through using a language your opponent didn't speak. Yindi got the message well enough, of course, and instead of using her too-human teeth to snap at Grajo on his next dive, she exhaled a cloud of glittery, pearlescent gas. Not expecting that in the least, Grajo got several deep breaths of it before he could react, and his good eye immediately rolled back into his head. The nachtkrapp hit the dirt like a puppet with his strings cut and my heart sank, until it sank further when he rose like those strings had been reattached. Moving in sickening pantomime of flight las though some great invisible child were playing with his body like a toy, he abruptly began to scream for a few seconds before it suddenly stopped. Reflexively I cupped my hands to my ears, never being a fan of movie jump-scares and even less fond of the ones in real life. My skin crawled with terror watching my friend at the mercy of whatever it was the bunyip had done.

"What the hell is that!?"

"Dreaming Mist," Yveline supplied, no small amount of pride in her voice. "A couple of follow-up techniques as well, all within de powerful purview of de bunyip. Your nachtkrapp is currently living out some of his worst, most painful memories an' nightmares. Yindi is an exceptional user of its many nuances, of course. She very nearly won de tournament for me not dat long ago."

"That's messed up!" I shouted in protest.

"That's esper battlin', chief," Red shrugged. "Ugly, but no uglier than claws an' teeth."

"I have a spell that mends wounds; I don't have one that clears up nightmares." It might not be the most articulate defense, but I felt strongly about it being a screwed-up way to approach the fight. I added 'spell that reverses psychological damage' to the list of arcana I wanted to research. "What the hell do we do about this!?"

"Nothin' much we can do, besides withdraw him. Unless Grajo snaps out of it himself, he's kinda at Yindi's mercy." I liked that even less.

"GRAJO!" My fists struck the barrier between myself and the fight, drawing the bunyip's attention for a few seconds, but apparently not long enough to break her spell. I pounded against it a few more times, the sparking energy electric and warm against my hands. Tauntingly, the bunyip extended its eyestalks toward me and blinked its weird little humanoid eyes, which only made me pound against the barrier harder and yell louder. "Wake up, Grajo!"

Instead of another round of shrieking and spasming, the nachtkrapp just sort of twitched. After another moment, he dropped from his puppetted position into the water, but Yindi still had her eyes on me. There was no rule I was aware of about being a distraction to the espers in the fight, so I kept up the façade, trying not to give away that it was only a delaying tactic. Grajo bobbed out of the water, shaking his head off and seeing the entire display. He looked the worst I'd ever seen him, feathers puffed out and his good eye dilated in terror, but his resolve was even stronger than mine. He puffed himself up, then took flight again. Yindi heard him exit the water and began to retract her eyestalks, but not before Grajo bit clean through one of them. The other retracted quickly, like a tape measure shooting back into its wheel upon the stopper being released, and Yveline's esper screamed in not-quite-human-but-still-too-close fashion, like a goat or deer.

"That's esper battlin'," Red repeated with something of a smug grin. There was a point made beneath his pride in Grajo's ruthlessness that severing an eyestalk was probably just as bad as psychological torture, but I knew for sure one wound would be forgotten by tomorrow.

Perhaps as a defense mechanism, Yindi began releasing cloud after cloud of prismatic smoke from her mouth. Fear shuddering through his body, Grajo backpedaled away from it so hard he tripped and fell backward into the water. He found his feet again, half-flying, half-running to hop out of the barrier. I tried to hold up my hands to discourage him, but he was much too quick and passed cleanly through to light beside me.

"Not again," he shuddered.

"Fourth fall goes to the Gladiator," announced the judge as the crowd went wild. "Red Company, send in your final esper!"

But in truth, I had no final esper. I ground my teeth to stop myself from raising my voice to Grajo or anyone else. Before the fight I had resolved to trust my espers more, and if that included their determination to fight, it had to include their desire to forfeit. Looking in his eye, still too large for the calculated, proud being he was, there was no way I could force him back into the fight, even at my angriest. A loss was a loss, and though it crushed my chest to admit defeat, I turned to face the judge and offer our surrender. We could try again another time; we had worked out a contingency for exactly this. I drew a preparatory breath into my lungs, but before I could get out more than a monosyllabic grunt, the balayang suddenly flew off his perch on my shoulder.

"What are you doing!?" I hissed, but it was too late. He was past the barrier and into the small, artificial swamp. He looked over his shoulder at me and made a chirping sound of enthusiasm, then continued his flight to the center of the ring. I turned to Red, and I'm sure my eyes were wild with unexpected fear and exasperation. "What is he doing!?"

"I guess he wants to fight," Red shrugged again, his eyes still on the balayang. "Kid's growin' up fast. But then, they all do."

"He's a child!" Emotion rose my voice above the conspiratorial whisper we usually talked strategy in, but it didn't seem quite enough to alert anyone else. "It's not safe in there, does he even know what he's doing?"

"He is young in years," Grajo began, "days even. But he has learned much in a short amount of time. This, perhaps, will be another lesson." He had a point. I wasn't used to beings with such a short development cycle. Was a matter of days to him equivalent to years for me? Had he gone from a baby to a six-year-old in that amount of time? A sixteen-year-old? Was there even an appropriate comparison?

"What if he hurts himself?"

"Then it would be a particularly important lesson, yes?" Try as I might, I could not argue with that. Something between a steadying breath and a sigh ran through me, and I turned to face the battlefield.

"… BEGIN!!!"

The balayang was fast. Faster than Ophelie, Raphael, or even Grajo. Like a dragonfly he darted in a zig-zag pattern toward Yindi's missing eyestalk, and though the bunyip stretched her neck out to reach around and try to bite him, he stayed well out of the way of her gnashing teeth. The blind spot was increased by her having retracted the one that was still attached into her body, giving her even more the impression of a strange 'uncanny valley' humanoid face. Still, every time she closed those denture-like choppers with a snap my stomach churned at the thought of how easily she could crush his body, or even swallow him whole. Esper fights weren't supposed to be to the death, but how could one teach something so self-motivated temperance? Surely a composed woman like Yveline hadn't encouraged the mocking gestures Yindi had made at me. My muscles ached from the tension I was keeping in my body. The balayang was doing well enough to outpace his opponent, but eventually he'd have to go on the offensive and I couldn't imagine his tiny claws and teeth would be much more than a minor irritation to the bulldog-sized esper he was battling. Well, bulldog-sized save for the ever-elongating neck. That she chose this method of assault and not the incredibly effective Dreaming Mist made me wonder if she was out of energy or whatever other mojo was required to produce it. Perhaps with the balayang's size, she felt it wasn't worth the effort. The little winged creature finally paused and hovered in place a few feet in front of me, making a big show of huffing and puffing from the effort of flight. I almost cried out at him to keep moving as Yindi's jaws came creeping closer, her neck extending under itself and her head upside-down. But then the balayang stopped putting up a show, smiled at me, and zipped away suddenly. The second his plan came to fruition an hysterical laugh cracked from my throat.

It was genius.

Yindi sped ninety degrees after the balayang in an attempt to consume him with such a sudden lunge that it drew the rest of her neck taught. Her mouth contorted into a concerned grimace and she risked popping out her remaining eyestalk to assess the situation; through the balayang's flight and that final snap, she had managed to tie her entire neck into a knot. Once realization sunk in, Yindi lost her own unnerving composure and started wailing again, trying in vain to retract her neck from itself. After a few celebratory victory laps around the pitch, the balayang swooped in and began gnawing on her remaining stalk, causing her to retract it once more. Though she was still healthy, she was far too panicked to continue the fight, and Yveline hung her head in bemused defeat as Yindi wobbled back to her chainer, pleading for assistance.

"Your winners… RRRRED COMPANYYYYY!!!" My skin tingled with the judge's announcement as a rush of intermingled relief and pride exploded through me. I was instantly exhausted and energized, disbelief fighting with joy as the balayang came fluttering out of the pitch to chirp enthusiastically at me.

"You clever little bastard!" I laughed. Not wanting to deny him his due, I turned to Grajo and gave him a small bow. "You were right. I'm sorry for doubting you."

He bobbed his head and gave the impression of a smirk in response, but that was soon overtaken by Red rushing up to heap praise on the balayang and celebrate with us. He lighted on my upraised fist, and Red clasped my hand and Grajo's wing to the celebratory crowd. Even though they may have wanted Yveline to win, it was an exciting fight, and every spectator was thrilled to be going home happy having seen a hell of a fight. That was the Vil Kayman way; any opportunity to rejoice was more important than sour grapes.

"Dat was an embarrassing defeat," Yveline admitted, having made her way around the pitch to meet my team. "I'll be sure not to allow it to happen again."

"Glad I could show you something new," I chuckled. "I really thought you had us, there."

"I very nearly did," she agreed. "I am surprised you put so much faith in an esper so small. Have you committed to a name for him yet?"

"I've been thinking about that… that language you speak sometimes, that you said 'piti' came from—"

"Nupale," she interjected. "It is the ancestral tongue of the mawon'nwa."

"What's the Nupale word for 'bravery'?"

"Kouraj." She was careful to enunciate each syllable instructively, but again a smile was pulling at the corners of her mouth to show those brilliant white teeth.

"Kouraj it is, then."

"I expect to see him at the tournament, then," Yveline added as she turned to make her departure.

"Count on it."

 

[Wightraven]

There was only one golden achievement when I next opened the Grimoire di Magi e Mythe; Victory in Marekaj. Still, the boon of twenty experience was welcome. I immediately increased my Aptitude and watched my interval Xp rise to 5, which was a comfortable place for it to be, giving me enough for a Trait or spell every two intervals, and enough for an attribute every four. Perhaps someday I'd figure out what the hell an interval was, but that day still had not yet come. As I theorized, the achievement for Marekaj properly listed Yveline's name in its description, which meant it was indeed either self-updating, or it was tailored explicitly to me. Or both? For as much as I'd worked out about Barbavia since my arrival, many of my first questions remained a mystery.

The six of us remained in Vil Kayman for another few days, spending more of the prize money than we probably ought to have and preparing for the next part of our journey, and perhaps the most treacherous. As much as the wetlands were a pain in the ass, we were crossing mountains to enter Bizim, the Southern desert home of the jerboa-like kobolds and fox-like tilkisi. The former were a bit more reclusive, often bordering on xenophobic, and were divided between two societies; one who worshipped a sun deity, and one who worshipped a serpent deity. Fortunately, we'd be spending as little time in the lands of the Church of the Sun as possible, and avoiding the self-described Serpent-Blooded entirely, making a bee-line for the tilkisi capital of Choln Guzellik. It was a cultural hub where traders spent a lot of time, closer in population and variety to Brum or even Lion's Head than Vil Kayman. I'd never been to a town like that, and the way my companions described it reminded me of childhood viewings of Disney's Aladdin movies and cartoon series, only given the grand spectacle of reality. Hiking through the mountains was going to be rough, especially given my intrinsic discomfort in high places, but arriving at our next destination would make it all worth it.

Two fights down, four to go. Three espers on my team and at least three more to join us in the future. Two stalwart companions and many friends made along the way, and who knows how many others we'd meet before it all concluded. My life had changed so dramatically seventy-odd days ago, and though my thoughts often drifted back to my family and my best friend Michael, I could easily say I was able to find happiness in the road ahead and every step along it.

END OF BOOK I
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NOTE: This is the final chapter of Book I of Red Company. I have a total of four books planned, but the general feedback on the story has altered my timeline on when they'll get done. I have edited and polished this book for publishing, but I'm no longer certain that's the path I'm going to take. Regardless, THIS IS A STORY I PLAN ON FINISHING, I just can't say what that update schedule will look like. Thank you for supporting me on this journey. Updates will resume in this thread when they're to be had.