Blind Devotion

by dnd4evr

While on the run from a haunting past, a half-orc warlock finds himself the chance companion of a blind elf doctor. Despite her quirks, he finds great comfort in her company, and the two make fast friends...even if their enemies are never far behind. All original characters that are HIGHLY INSPIRED by the cast of Critical Role.

15. Finding Filberts

The night did not pass well for Lugduf. The camaraderie around the campfire, while beyond his grasp of the common language, reminded him of the tales told around the community campfire before the upheaval in his life. As the tradition of his people demanded, he tried to suffer and mourn in silence and privacy, but his attempts were foiled by Dahlia. As she had been awake half the night, she excused herself from the current watch and joined Lugduf on the other side of the tree trunk. She was unable to console him due to the language barrier, but she did provide a distraction; She managed to convey she wanted his help in brewing some potions, and between the two of them, they managed to make two of the four possible potions.

The next day was slow going, as the frigid rain had thoroughly soaked the ground. Multiple times, the wagon pitched and sank into the mud of the beaten road, and by the time darkness had fallen upon them, nearly everyone was soaked to the bone and caked in mud.

The delays forced them to camp an additional night on the road, but to their relief, the rain finally let up by the next morning. To further brighten spirits, Dahlia presented all four completed potions to the team. She clearly praised Lugduf's assistance in their creation, which was understood well enough by the young boy to make him beam with pride.

The tarp was draped across the back end of the cart to allow it to dry, as well as it could on that damp morning. Lugduf, exhausted from working half the night for a second time, used the manufactured shade to nap as the others talked through passing around the potions.

Bera had to admit a temptation to take a potion for her own, but she reminded herself that the plan was to abandon the group as soon as they made it to town. A fact that was increasingly harder to forget as the land around them stretched out into fertile farm fields being tilled and harvested by an odd collection of humans, halfings, and the promised gnolls in awkward garb.

As the cart trundled along the muddy road, they passed a small orchard with fruit-laden trees. The group nearly failed to contain their excitement for finally arriving at civilization as they returned far off calls of greeting to the farm hands.

Suddenly the upper half of a young gnoll dropped out of a tree, hanging by her knees as she flailed to gain the travelers' attention. "Hihihihi! You come for festival yes yes?"

Gauth, the closest to this young girl, sputtered in surprise as he recoiled from the face that was shockingly level with his own. The gnoll was immensely entertained and let out a barking laugh that was surprisingly cheerful.

"Who are you talking to?" Dahlia asked, but rather than answer, Jayce patted her arm and turned to the gnoll girl.

"Afternoon, young miss," Jayce said with a smile. "Seems you spooked our giant, there."

Gauth looked indignant as the girl continued to yip a laugh. "Hihihi yes yes spook giant wee!" She then performed a perfect curl up to pull herself back into the tree and grabbed a basket wedged between the branches. "Tricks for trade! Show trick give apple! Apple?"

To emphasise her very quickly delivered point, the girl held out a red apple that faded to gold where the fruit had been in shade. "Yum yum apple! Honey-sweet! Give for trick'n'trade!"

As their rations had nearly run out on the trip, even with Gauth supplementing with the occasional hunted game, the apple was very tempting.

"So let me get this straight," Zoe smirked, her arms crossed, "we show off, you give us an apple, right?"

"Yes yes yes!" the girl yipped. "Trick'n'trade!"

Jonathan glanced at Zoe and swirled magical sparks around his hand, but she shook her head and gave a clear look of determination. With a hop up to her feet and a spring toward the front of the cart, Zoe landed on the palm of her hands on the corner of the cart wall. She shifted to a single palm and did two push ups before slamming the free hand down to pop herself into the air, where she twisted and landed perfectly at the base of the tree. Delighted, the young gnoll squealed and tossed an apple to Zoe, who easily caught it.

"More tricky-tricks more more!" the girl squealed as she clapped her hands.

Al rolled his eyes and motioned to literally anyone else to do something rather than himself, so Jonathan shrugged and summoned dancing lights that formed into butterflies. Puffpaw, suffering from a form of cabin fever entirely unique to cats, leapt after the ephemeral creatures with fervor, which sent her sailing over the edge of the cart and directly into the mud at the side of the road. Jonathan's cry of shock and warning was too little, too late and Puffpaw's tiny paws pierced the mud with little effort and left her coated in grime from the pads of her feet to the fur on her belly. Her look of displeasure was immediately apparent.

Al, Bera, Gauth, and the girl all burst out into gleeful laughter as Zoe tried heroically to keep her own laugh from her lips when she scooped up the small feline. As Puffpaw violently shook her paws to dislodge as much of the mud as possible, Jayce, fighting to speak through his own laughter, tried his best to explain what just happened to Dahlia. He did well enough that she hid a giggle in the bedroll she was using as a cloak.

An older, human man, his attention caught by the laughter, jogged over to the cart and immediately noticed who had started the whole debacle. He set down his own basket, filled with walnuts still in their fleshy pods, before he put his hands on his hips and yelled up into the tree.

"Greshi! You ain't paid to gawk at strangers. Pick your bushels 'n bring 'em to the packers! We got a festival to feed!"

Greshi slapped both hands over her mouth to cut short her laughter before she grabbed the basket and scrambled higher into the tree, where she disappeared from view. Jayce turned to the man in the muddy boots and mimed tipping a hat.

"Afternoon, sir. We ain't mean no harm, just chattin' with a local after a long 'n lonely road. May I say, she was a lovely ray of sunshine to our otherwise dreary day."

The man sighed and crossed his arms. "Easily distracted, those folk. Worse when they're young, of course. You sure she ain't a problem? Most new folk get a bit up about seein' a Dustpaw walkin' around."

Dahlia, unable to contain her curiosity any longer, popped her head over the edge of the cart and faced the man. "A Dustpaw?"

The man nodded. "The clan o' gnolls that call Turst Fields home. Owe 'em our history, we do."

"That explains the odd speech pattern," Dahlia muttered to herself.

"Ain't a problem," Jayce smiled. "Comin' from a bloke like me, I got firsthand experience dealin' with closed-minded folk. In fact, we got a full blood orc youth with us, lost his home an' lookin' for honest work. Know who we could talk to?"

The man immediately soured and looked over Jayce suspiciously. "You ain't talkin' a Ravager, are you?"

Jayce nearly overreacted in an attempt to backstep the conversation. "No! Absolutely not, sir. Poor kid's been hunted by 'em, lost family an' friends alike to the Ravagers. He ain't got any loyalty to those fuckers."

The man narrowed his eyes again and looked them all over. "You seem a good sort, so I'll give ya a chance. Talk to Lukius over at Hazel House. He's in charge of the festival an' always lookin' for spare hands come this time of year." The man crossed his arms again and shrugged. "Kid proves himself, may get a home."

"Thank ya kindly," Jayce said earnestly. "Now I gotta ask, what festival?"

"Finally!" Al grumbled, to which Bera poked him hard in the ribs.

"You daft?" the man scoffed. "It's Quen'pillar! The Hazel Festival's in two days!"

Dahlia perked up immediately. "That's right! That means it's two weeks until Civilization's Dawn!"

"Roughly," the man said with a nod. "Now you follow this road to Turst Fields, take a left at The Nutty Knob, and Hazel House'll be at the end of the dirt path through the orchard. Erathis' mercy to you."

"And you," Jayce said with a grateful smile. "Gauth, we ready?"

"No," Gauth huffed. "I want apples for me and the horses. I'm hungry."

Jayce sighed heavily as the others all smirked and giggled at Gauth's defiance. He turned to the man again. "How much for some apples?"

"Trick'n'trade!" Greshi squealed, again as she dropped her upper half into view as she hung from a tree branch. "Apples for trick'n'trade!"

Greshi clasped her hands together and widened her eyes, pleading with the man to allow her to trade apples for their tricks. In barely seconds, the man's defenses finally collapsed before her youthful charms and he waved for her to go ahead. Victorious, she squealed in happiness and scrambled back into the tree, where she grabbed the half full basket before dropping down.

Jonathan, having already performed a trick, was presented with a honey-sweet apple while Bera climbed up to the driver's seat and began singing, loudly, a song about a man who kept losing his false teeth. By the time she had gotten to the verse where the character had to explain how he bit his own grandmother from three rooms away, several orchard harvesters had gathered around to be a part of the audience.

Bera knew how to play the growing crowd, and had them eating out of her hand by the time she finished her performance. A small crowd of nearly twenty men and women, a mix of humans and halflings, were practically howling with laughter as Bera bowed and blew kisses while they applauded. Greshi, goaded on by the crowd, handed over the whole half-bushel of apples she had collected, which the group promptly tore into. Eple and Kake's spirits were greatly lifted with the application of apples, and resumed their trot at a brisk speed when Gauth snapped the reins.

Lugduf, who had been awake for some time by that point but terrified to come out from under the tarp, meekly appealed to Jayce to ask what had been happening. To his shock and delight, he was handed an apple and told they had found him a lead on both work and a place to stay, and they were heading that way now. Lugduf was instantly boosted in confidence and beamed broadly as he sat among them, crunching through an apple that tasted as sweet as his hopes for the future.

As they made their way into town, the bustling community was clearly charged with an energy only found in a society collectively excited for an upcoming event. The locals were friendly, although defensive at first. At one point, Gauth pulled the cart aside and asked the closest citizen directions to the Nutty Knob, and it so happened the man was a gnoll. The gnoll tried to goad Gauth into a fight, but it came across as childish, so Gauth didn't take the bait. Eventually, with a beautifully subtle threat that simply included Gauth stepping down from the cart and stretching to his full height, the gnoll enthusiastically pointed the way to the Nutty Knob and then promptly escaped further conversation. With a laugh, Gauth climbed back on the cart and directed the cart further down the street.

Thankfully, their path took them past a tailor's store, and Bera immediately called for them all to stop while she redressed Dahlia. In no time at all, Dahlia had a new set of travelling clothes, and she seemed visibly relieved to once again be wearing pants, boots, and a coat of her own. Dahlia tried to pay Bera back, but Jayce got to her first. When Dahlia protested, Jayce explained it came out of the gold Margrave Zimmerset had paid them for saving his life, so technically the margrave was paying for it. The group approved of the gesture and Dahlia kept her comment to herself.

Shortly past the Nutty Knob tavern, the town began to spread, and eventually gave way to a shaded dirt road surrounded by neat rows of wide, rounded trees that were barely a story tall. Workers wandered from trunk to trunk, poking small clusters of pods with long poles to encourage them to drop into waiting baskets below. Dahlia sat up straight on the cart and took in a deep breath.

"Do you smell that?" she sighed. "It smells heavenly!"

"The distance you can smell things is ridiculous," Al snickered. However, by her prompting, nearly everyone in the cart took a moment to sniff at the air, and sure enough, they began to note hints of something sweet roasting on a fire. Despite having devoured several pounds of apples, the thought of a warm meal began to whet their appetite once more.

"I hope they're sharing whatever they're making," Jonathan said with a smile. "Maybe we could ask for a sample of whatever they're feeding the workers."

Bera rolled her eyes. "Or they're roasting whatever they're picking off the trees so that it lasts longer in transit. That might not be food for the taking."

"Way to be a kill-joy," Zoe huffed. "There's no harm in asking for a sample."

"As long as it won't offend anyone," Jayce cut in. "Remember, we're here to make a good impression for Lugduf."

Lugduf, upon hearing his name, immediately nodded enthusiastically, even though he had little clue as to why.

"Eh, he'll be fine," Al said. "He's got that indomitable spirit of the orcs."

"Yeah, and that ain't the only orcish part of 'im," Jayce shot back, his arms crossed. "He's walkin' into this practically deaf and without a coin to his name, and that bloke back there made it pretty damn clear bein' gnoll friendly ain't gonna translate to a greenskin."

"The first two problems are pretty easy to fix," Dahlia said quickly. "I can hand over some gold to get him started, and he's already picking up words in common. As for the last…"

She paused as she thought, and the others looked over to Lugduf, whose face was already beginning to fall with worry. Suddenly, Dahlia snapped her fingers and brightened considerably.

"We do the interview for him! We've been with him for nearly three days, so we know he's great at foraging, and I know personally that he is quite clever. It's not typical that someone can follow verbal instructions so well when their instructor is both blind and speaking a different language."

"Well, clearly we can't do the whole interview," Jonathan said gently. "Jayce could easily translate for any questions directed at Lugduf, but we can definitely add our recommendations."

Gauth looked over his shoulder at them all. "Is that the plan?"

"Best we got," Jayce responded.

"Good. Because we're here."

The Hazel House was a large, two story building built with the wood of the local trees and surrounded by squat bushes that lined the pathway for carts to follow. Small children, who were small more in stature than in age, dashed between lines of these hedges, their fingers and faces stained purple with the continual snacking of blueberries straight from the branch. As many of these bushes were nearly five feet tall, the small children were easily lost each time they ducked between the hedges.

The upper floor of the Hazel House stretched out above the first floor, shading the entire length of the house in a friendly, open air porch that had just enough of a fence to give it a boundary. On one of the many rocking chairs scattered across this porch, an old, wrinkled man sat under a wool blanket and gently puffed at a cherry wood pipe. He perked up as the cart slowly came to a stop before the front steps.

"Well now!" he called, slowly and shakily standing from the rocking chair. "Been ages since I've had unannounced guests! Who might you be?"

Gauth hopped down from the driver's seat and immediately stepped aside to check on the horses, so Jayce stood up and bowed. "Well met, good sir! We're travellin' sellswords lookin' to find work for a young man under our wing. Local farmhand pointed us this way."

The old halfling grabbed a knobby cane and waddled over to the low fence between the porch as the dirt path. "Ah. You'll be looking for my son-in-law then. He's in charge of the helping hands."

"I take it you ain't Lukius then?" Jayce asked.

The old man shook his head but continued his gentle smile. "Heavens, no. Luke's my daughter's husband. About now, he'll be in the roasting huts, looking over the morning's harvest."

"Actually, what is roasting right now?" Al cut in. "It smells great!"

The old man's smile grew even wider. "That's our filberts, boyo! Best in Tal'Dorei! We roast them to a deep gold, then mash and grind them down into a smooth butter that we use in pastries and cakes the likes of which you've never tasted. Are you staying in town for the Hazel Festival? You'll get a chance to try them first hand!"

"Far I see it, ain't no harm," Jayce beamed. "Now, may we walk the grounds? Pretty sure Luke ain't nearby, seein' as you mentioned he'd be out and about."

"Not without a guide," the man said with a nod. He turned toward the house and, in a volume that startled them all, roared, "Camilla! Camilla, where are you, girl?!"

A window on the second floor popped open and a young halfling woman stuck out her upper half. "Papa! Don't you dare go hollerin' around! Momma say's you sit your butt down and rest before you keel over!"

The man winked at the group and mouthed, "My granddaughter," before he took a deep breath and, still at the impressive volume, roared, "I'mma yell as much as I want! I take whatever pleasure I've got left in this old life of mine!"

The window slammed shut and nearly everyone waiting could hear the pounding of footsteps stomping down stairs and to the front door. The granddaughter, far too tall for a full grown halfing but too short for a young human, slammed open the front double doors and stood there, hands akimbo, as she glared at the old man. "Momma's gonna have your hide, Papa! I swear, if you don't even make it to the Hazel Festival she'll reverse haunt you!"

The old man burst out laughing and nearly stumbled off his cane. "What'n'the blooming world is that supposed to mean?!"

The same window from before popped open again and a smaller woman, clearly a halfling, stuck her head out. "It means I'll go to the afterlife and drag your sorry soul back here, Dad! You're supposed to be resting!"

"Is the whole family that loud?" Al winced as he mumbled under his breath. Jayce, barely able to keep his laughter to himself, buried his head in his hands rather than attempt to reply.

"I'll rest when I'm dead!" the man laughed. The woman above scoffed and disappeared back into the room from whence she came, so he turned back to the younger woman at his side. "Camilla, pumpkin, can you lead these kind folk to the roasting hut? These people have a young ward with them who's looking for work."

Camilla looked over them all with a suspicious eye. "All of them? Why not just this ward of theirs?"

"About that," Jayce cut in as politely as possible. "He...ain't the most eloquent of folks, and needs a translator to get started. I can speak his language, so at the minimum, I gotta go with 'im."

Camilla sighed. "Okay, so the two of you. The rest of you can go back into town."

"If I may-" Jayce said gently.

Camilla shot him a glare of death that is only learned by those who have been truly annoyed by their family, but Jayce weathered it quite well. Camilla rolled her eyes and motioned for him to continue.

"A friend of mine's had a tough go of it, and long story short, she's got a pair of boots she's gotta break in. Mind if she comes along?"

Dahlia nearly bounced when she sat up suddenly in shock. It was pretty clear he was talking about her, and as excited as she was to possibly taste the freshly roasted "filberts" that smelled so good, she didn't want to impose.

"Oh, no, that's fine. I can go to the tavern," she weakly protested.

"Nonsense! A leisurely walk will do you good," Bera smiled. "So long as she can go, of course."

Camilla rubbed her forehead in frustration but relented. "Fine. She can come, but no more!"

Jonathan raised his hand just enough to get her attention. "May I-?"

"I said no more!" Camilla snapped.

Jayce helped Dahlia down from the cart and waved to Gauth. "We'll meet ya at the, uh, Nutty Knob when we're done here. Get those horses fed, and here, this should cover room'n'board."

He passed over two gold coins, which Gauth took with a sigh of resignation before stuffing them into his own coin pouch. Al leaned over the driver seat and promised to help Gauth with the finer points of commerce, to which Gauth seemed relieved.

Lugduf, wrapped in the tarp, jumped down as the cart departed with Jonathan sulking in the back. Jayce watched them leave before he turned to tap Dahlia on the arm for her to take his, and then turned to Camilla.

"Miss, this young man here's Lugduf, the bloke lookin' for work. I can personally vouch for 'im."

Camilla narrowed her eyes at Lugduf, who set his jaw and stood up as straight as he could, despite the clear look of fear in his eyes. She sighed and turned to Jayce.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you know how to talk to him. Does he have anything except that tarp on him?"

Jayce shook his head. "Truth be told, the tarp's mine. He's got the boots on his feet and the threads on his back, and that's about it."

"So a coat, on top of anything else," Camilla grumbled. "Alright, follow me."

She began to walk through the orchard, followed closely by Jayce, Dahlia, and Lugduf at the rear. Camilla was clearly rushed to get this meeting over with, but she did stop briefly twice to speak with farm hands who had questions about a fungus infected tree and the discovery of a squirrel's nest in an area where the yield was significantly lower than expected.

Finally, the smell of roasting nuts and now the hints of sugar became too powerful to ignore, and Dahlia cleared her throat into her fist to hide the fact that she was nearly drooling. Jayce had much fewer qualms about the scent, and called out to Camilla as they walked up to a wooden building with a clear gap between the roof and the walls.

"Miss? That's really just, uh, what'd you call 'em? Phillips?"

Jayce's comment finally broke through Camilla's cold and irritated facade as she nearly spit out a laugh. "We're not cooking the gamekeeper!" Camilla giggled. She paused in her walk to turn and face Jayce and the others. "Filberts are hazelnuts. Trust me, I've been there; my dad's human, so he's called them hazelnuts all his life, but the halfling side of my family always calls them filberts. No idea why or where that came from, but yes, what you're smelling really is just hazelnuts. Praline, butter, and flour; all necessary for the festival the day after tomorrow."

"It smells amazing," Dahlia said with a bright smile. "I...don't suppose we could ask for a sample, just to try it?"

Camilla leaned her chin into her hand as she thought it over. "I guess it'll be okay. Dad's working on something new, but I think he's been stuck for the past month or so. He probably wouldn't mind a few taste testers before he debuts at the festival."

"This just keeps gettin' better 'n better," Jayce beamed. He turned and quickly translated for Lugduf, who nearly lost his composure at the thought of tasting the new food. Once he remembered where he was, and in whose company he stood, he went back to being submissive and quiet.

"I gotta say, I've never seen an orc quite like...your friend there," Camilla said, clearly unsure of how to process the thought of a shy orc. "I...thought they were all bloodthirsty, like their god."

Dahlia shook her head. "As a cleric of Pelor, I can tell you firsthand that even the faithful of the prime deities rarely agree on the meanings of divine teachings. That said, I'm not sure Lugduf will continue to be faithful to the Ruiner, considering what his followers did to Lugduf's people."

"That's a really good point," Camilla mumbled. She winced and turned to the barn doors of the roasting hut. "Anyway, let's see if my dad is in."

The hut was unlocked and the doors rolled easily to the side, and the tallest man in the room immediately looked past the workers turning shelled hazelnuts across roasting pans. A wave of welcome warmth washed over them, followed closely by that tantalizing smell that had been teasing them for nearly a mile.

"Camilla!" the man smiled. He set down a bowl of some concoction and walked over to meet her as she waved.

"Hi Dad. This is...oh damn I forgot to ask your names!"

Camilla buried her head in her hands as Jayce snickered and waved off the thought of taken offense. "Name's Jayce, sir. This is Dahlia, my companion, and this here's Lugduf. We were told yer Luke, in charge of hirin' farmhands?"

Luke stopped short in his steps as he noticed exactly what Lugduf was. "Ah. Yes, I'm Lukius, or Luke around here. Are you all looking for work?"

Jayce shook his head. "Just Lugduf, here. Poor kid was the only survivor of a Ravager attack-"

"Wait wait wait just a damn minute, Ravagers attack other orcs? You've got to be kidding me," Luke said.

Jayce shook his head. "Serious as the grave, sir. Ravagers are a faction, same as the Shields."

Camilla squeaked in shock as Luke's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Are you telling me you consider the Ravagers and the Shields of the Plains to be the same?"

Jayce immediately brought up his hands to show he meant no harm. "Absolutely not, sir! Just sayin' both are- Wait, no-"

"Jayce was stating how the Ravagers are separate from most orcs, just as how the Shields of the Plains are separate from most citizens," Dahlia cut in. "While they are similar in being military powers, that is where the comparison ends."

Luke grumbled in displeasure and glared at both Jayce and Lugduf before he turned his attention directly at Dahlia. "Fine, I'll assume you aren't stupid enough to intentionally insult a retired captain of the Shields."

"Oh fuck," Jayce mumbled as he softly slapped a hand to his face.

"However, I expect to be shown respect, especially now that you know who I am. Look me in the eyes when I'm talking to you, ma'am-!"

Dahlia sighed and desperately wished she had her bandage back. "Sir, I'm blind. I can't look you in the eyes."

There was an awkward pause in the room as both Camilla and Luke realized they had clearly incorrectly assumed several things about the persons in front of them. Luke attempted to save the situation by clearing his throat and turning to Lugduf.

"So, this is the youth?" he asked. Luke nodded to Lugduf and then turned away to pick up the bowl he had been using earlier.

"Yes, sir. He's a clever young man and eager to find a place," Jayce responded. He glanced at Dahlia and tapped her fingers on his arm to indicate he was ready for her to add to the conversation.

Dahlia took the hint easily and explained, in detail, about how Lugduf was able to follow verbal instructions based solely on context clues and demonstration, even though he was unable to understand the actual words said to him. "I can personally attest to the quality of the finished product, thanks to his efforts," she said with pride.

Luke blinked several times before he responded. "Truth be told, I am somewhat lost as to what was made; I'm not a man of alchemy myself. But I do know something about mixing things. If he works so well, I think it's time to test him."

Jayce turned and made a motion to speak, but Luke cut him off. "Ah! No. I want to see this clever mind in action."

Jayce dipped his head and held up a hand to show he understood, and Lugduf immediately took on a face of panic. The poor boy still had very little idea of what was being said around him, and now everyone was being silent. He glanced at Jayce and was surprised to find a look of encouragement and a thumbs up waiting for him.

Luke retrieved the bowl he had been holding and held out the tin vessel for Lugduf to inspect. Lugduf twitched backward, but held his ground and cautiously peered into the bowl held at his chest. Inside was a loose but grainy batter, made from hazelnut butter and incredibly fine sugar. Lugduf glanced at Luke and averted his gaze with a grimace when he noticed the steely look being offered from the man, but he was an orc, and they were a stubborn race. He refused to back down.

"Uh, elder, may I...try it?" Lugduf asked. Of course, Luke could not understand, and Lugduf rolled his lip for a second as he tried to think of how to imply what he meant. Instead, Lugduf held his hand over the bowl and pointed at the mixture, with a slight motion as if he was scooping up the batter with his finger.

Thankfully, Luke understood that, and despite a disgusted grimace of his own, nodded his approval. To everyone's surprise, Lugduf did not taste the resulting fingerful, but instead felt the texture by rubbing it between his forefinger and thumb.

"This is… It feels like a biscuit my camp-mother would make, but it's too watery. Um, do you have…" Lugduf asked, just as he realized that, once again, no one but Jayce could understand him. He childishly swore under his breath and turned to Jayce, who shook his head. No one was going to help him here.

Determined to find a place in this odd society of pink-skinned people, Lugduf swallowed his fear and tried to take the bowl as inoffensively as possible. Luke clearly gave him a look of warning before he let go, but Luke's vindictive streak won over, and Lugduf nearly stumbled from the force it took to finally pull the bowl out of Luke's hands.

Leaving the clumsy tarp behind, Lugduf jogged to the small kitchen at the back of the roasting hut, acutely aware of every pair of halfling eyes following him. While it was clear they were threatened, they were more curious than aggressive, and kept to their roasting pans. They continued to watch, their threatened stance slowly giving way as Lugduf darted around, checking clay vessels and bags for the appropriate ingredients. Finally, he found what he was looking for, and mixed in cornstarch to get the batter thick enough to hold its shape when scooped. Once that was done, Lugduf briefly seemed to panic, but then realized the large mortar there had a grooved surface, and he began to grind down several handfuls of raw sugar crystals. What resulted was a smooth powder that was very sweet and melted immediately on the tongue.

Luke, now as curious as the workers at the roasting pans, motioned for Lugduf to continue once the boy glanced up for permission. Bolstered and encouraged, Lugduf moved the batter to a wooden bowl and found a smaller bowl, which he filled with water from a barrel by the testing stove. He ran all three bowls to one of the three-foot-wide roasting pans that was currently being vacated of completed hazelnuts and he nearly bounced as he waited for the halfling worker to step away. Once it was clear, he quickly scooped and rolled small balls of batter in the powdered sugar, slapped them down on the hot pan to make a small circle, splashed water in the middle, and slammed down the tin bowl over it all as it erupted into steam.

Luke, his arms crossed and one hand stroking his chin, leaned slightly over to Jayce as he watched Lugduf lament accidentally smooshing a biscuit with the edge of the tin bowl. "What do you think the kid is doing?"

Jayce shrugged but smiled. "Cookin', far as I can tell. Said somethin' about his...fuck ain't sure the word's right, but his 'camp-mother' made somethin' out of a similar lookin' batter. He's tryin' to show you what he can do with what ya gave him."

Luke nodded slowly. "I'm interested to see what he comes up with. Camilla?"

Camilla looked up at her father. "Yes, Dad?"

"Go find Philips and Joel. They'll be getting an apprentice."

Camilla tilted her head in shocked surprise. "You're...hiring him?"

Luke nodded. "Putting him with the gamekeepers will keep him away from most of the other workers, and it'll give him enough time to occasionally work with me. Apparently, orcs have cuisine, and I'm curious to see what else he can do."

"Oh-kay, Dad," Camilla puffed. "I'll...go get the gamekeepers."

As Camilla left, Jayce turned to Luke and nodded his thanks. "Seems we owe ya a debt of gratitude, sir."

"Just to be clear," Luke said, gesturing toward Lugduf, "you never taught him...this?"

"Nope," Jayce grinned.

"And you had no idea you could make biscuits on a pan with water?"

"Not a damned clue," Jayce chuckled.

Luke watched Lugduf for another minute as the other workers in the roasting hut had begun wrapping up their duties so they could also keep an eye on this strange interloper. "I never thought orcs ate anything other than raw meat on the bone."

"Even if they do, I'm sure that would get boring," Dahlia huffed. "Would you be able to stand eating raw meat every day?"

Luke was caught off guard by Dahlia's sudden comment and became flustered when he tried to reply. "Well, no, but then again, they're orcs. What else would they use those tusks for?"

Jayce sighed in a world-weary way and prepared to respond, but Dahlia beat him to the punch.

"Sir, I happen to know that orcs, before they were corrupted by Gruumsh, were actually elves like myself. The tusks are simply a mark of the betrayer god that claimed ownership of them, just as how other races bear the marks of their patron deities. They were mutated by magic, not nature."

Dahlia had stepped aside and crossed her arms in defiance, facing Luke with a generically facing glare that was clearly intended for him. Luke, to his credit, believed her recollection of history, despite how far-fetched it seemed.

"You've got to be kidding. Orcs were once elves?!"

This was also news to Jayce, who was now listening with rapt attention.

Dahlia nodded gravely. "One of the tenets of the Dawnfather is to never forget the mistakes of the past, lest we be doomed to repeat them. By damning a whole race for the mistakes of a few, you would never have had the opportunity to learn a new way to make biscuits, like Lugduf is going to show you, or the chance to learn orcish cuisine. On top of that, Lugduf's family were slaughtered by zealots of Gruumsh, and deserves the mercy beholden to any refugee or survivor of war. Orc or not, I refuse to believe he has nothing to contribute, and if you were going to treat him as 'any other' orc and kill him 'just in case' he's a threat, you'd be just as bad as the Ravagers who tore down everything he had."

Luke sputtered with indignation during Dahlia's brief pause, but instead she threw in one last comment before he could speak. "I refuse to believe the Shields would slaughter innocents without a second thought, as only the Ravagers are monsters. You, sir, are clearly cut of the fine cloth of the Shields, considering the operation you run here."

Luke hesitated before he spoke as the words rang true to him. Clearly, the Ravagers were monsters. Clearly, he was different. However, considering an orc, even a clearly young one, like Lugduf, to be innocent...that seemed hard to believe. Except Lugduf had been intimidated by him, and was so self-conscious about taking the bowl when Luke resisted. Those were the actions of a boy, not a monster.

But could an orc be anything other than a monster?

No, he couldn't ruminate on this; he had already decided to give Lugduf a chance. Whether the elf's words were true or not would be left to time.

Luke sighed. "I...find your words- No, your tale of the origin of orcs to be hard to believe. I will have to look into it myself."

Dahlia nodded. "That's fair. All I ask is that you treat Lugduf like anyone else in your employ, and I promise you'll see great things from him."

Luke nodded, distracted enough to forget Dahlia couldn't see his nonverbal agreement. Just as he was about to call out for Lugduf to return to him, the boy raced over with several hot biscuits laid across a kitchen towel he had borrowed to safely retrieve the biscuits from the roasting pan.

What he presented were golden brown cookies, each barely a few inches across, covered in a sheen of sweet syrup from where the powdered sugar mixed with the steam. The edges were cracked and crunchy from the somewhat violent method that placed them on the pan, but the centers were soft and decadent.

Unfortunately, Lugduf had misjudged the heat of the pan and the bottoms were burnt and overcooked. The boy looked embarrassed, but hopeful, as Luke took a cookie to inspect it.

Lugduf winced when Luke turned the cookie over and noticed the black bottom. Luke grumbled but then pulled out a small utility knife to scrape off the blackened parts before he popped the whole thing in his mouth.

Luke's eyes widened in shock and he turned to Jayce and Dahlia. "Gods damn it all, this boy just made a cookie out of hazelnut butter and corn flour! It's very sweet, but paired with something bitter and smooth, it would make a show-stopper of a treat for the Hazel Festival."

Jayce smirked with pride. "See? He's a clever kid."

Dahlia held out her hand. "May I try one?"

Her intention was clear, and Lugduf poked through all the cookies to find the least burnt of them to hand over. Jayce did intercept to scrape off the blackened parts as Luke had done, and then handed the cookie to Dahlia.

She took a far more calculated bite and then her eyes also widened in shock. "Jayce! Do you know what this reminds me of?"

"Not a clue," Jayce said.

A wide smile broke over Dahlia's face. "The loukoumades from Westruun! Crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside...and I think it would pair beautifully with chocolate! It's bitter and smooth, and it would mesh so well with the sweet and nutty flavor of the cookie!"

Jayce picked up a cookie and also took a bite. "Ya know, I agree. I think chocolate'd go great with this." He turned to Luke. "You got any?"

Luke shook his head. "No, and it would be a miracle to get any before the festival. I know there's a bakery in Whitestone that is famous for their chocolate treats, but the ingredient rarely makes its way through Turst Fields."

"Pity. Still, I figure Lugduf's got more surprises in 'im," Jayce smiled. He turned to Lugduf and spoke in Orcish; "We all enjoy the biscuits. What are they?"

Lugduf's shoulders slumped in relief that was clear on face. "Wow. Oh wow. Uh, my camp-mother calls them stonecakes. Although these are a little different; I've made them before with carrot mash, but I figured nut paste would be similar."

Jayce stepped forward and patted Lugduf on the arm. "These stonecakes just got you a purpose, Lugduf. Luke will hire you to be helper to the hunt-keepers, and I think you will also help in here from time to time."

Lugduf's face lit up with hope. "Really?!"

Jayce nodded but then turned serious. "Before you go, though, I want to talk to you. You need to learn five paces."

Lugduf looked confused. "Five paces?"

Jayce winced. "I'm mixing up words. Hold on." He turned to Luke and Dahlia and spoke in the common language. "Mind if I chat with Lugduf a minute? There's some thing's he should be aware of, livin' among common folk."

Luke nodded. "That's fine."

Jayce walked Lugduf, still holding the lightly steaming cookies, into the brisk outdoors and turned to him. "Lugduf, a wise elder taught me something very important, and it will help keep you alive when people are angry for looking at you."

"Angry for…?" Lugduf gulped. "You mean...just because I'm a war-blood?"

Jayce nodded gravely. "There are five things to remember. Are you ready?"

Lugduf nodded, nervous but determined.

Jayce launched into the practiced speech taught to him by a man he once admired. "One, smile, but never like you're mocking someone. Smile like you're sorry. Two, keep your hands visible at all times. As long as your hands are visible, no one can accuse you of hiding a weapon. Three, be very polite. Even if the person you are talking to deserves to be treated like dung, be very polite. Four, stay calm! The more angry you get, the more angry they will get, and the more dangerous they will be."

Jayce paused as Lugduf mumbled through committing the first four steps to memory. Once those were safely tucked in his mind, Lugduf asked, "Um, what about the fifth?"

Jayce took in a deep breath to steady himself. This step was the hardest for him. "Five, never, ever talk back. Talking back is bad. Talking back is very bad. Do you understand?"

"I...I think so," Lugduf whimpered. "And these will keep me safe?"

Jayce's fist went tight at his side and his eyes fell. "No, but they will make it easier to survive. I'm only half… I'm a cursed muddie, Lugduf, and these rules make it so that I can walk away with bruises instead of wounds. I hope they help you, but I can't tell you how to stay safe. I don't know yet myself."

Lugduf gulped and glanced at the cookies. It was clear he was having second thoughts.

Jayce placed a hand on Lugduf's arm and tried to give him a look of kindness. "Hey, it's okay. There are good people here. Work hard, follow the rules, and you will find a place. It's safer than the wilds, and one day you can find… What was the name? Iceclaw?"

Lugduf nodded, his face tight with restrained emotions.

Jayce nodded back. "You can do this. You can find a clan here."

Lugduf set his jaw and gave a determined nod, despite the fear he was hiding behind his eyes. Jayce knew exactly where he was coming from, and patted him on the shoulder.

"I know you're young, but trust me, you can grow up really fast if you need to," he said softly. "Let's go back inside. Your new leader is waiting."

Lugduf continued to mumble the five steps as Jayce led him back inside, where Luke and Dahlia were waiting for him. Luke perked up immediately. "And you've returned. Jayce, was it?"

"Yes, sir," Jayce said with a polite smile.

"If you don't mind playing translator, I have some questions to ask the boy. Could you spare some time while we wait for Camilla to get back?"

Jayce didn't mind, and the three began a long, oft-repeated conversation while Jayce translated between Luke and Lugduf. Dahlia, her feet sore from the new boots, began to wander toward the doors. That was the only place she really knew well enough in this new building to confidently find, and it seemed rude to just yell into the air her request for a seat. Besides, the sun was breaking through the clouds, and she didn't have that paint anymore. She could feel the sunshine on her skin.

She found the door and leaned against it, following its edge as she sank to the ground. The breeze wafted by the scents of damp earth and fruit-laden trees, the smell of bruised vegetation from where carts had crushed the grass or a slightly sweeter scent of branches now void of fruit. The sunlight felt warm and then cool across her face as it danced through nearby branches, alternating shadow and light as the breeze tussled the leaves. What a peaceful place this was. She hoped it would become a good home for Lugduf. He deserved something good after he lost so much.

Dahlia leaned her head back against the wooden door and listened to the world. She tried to imagine how Jayce would describe it, how he brought faded colors from deep within her memory and made them bright again. She tried to imagine the world around her in hues of green-

"Uh miss-ma'am! Ma'am?"

The color faded faster than it came, and Dahlia sighed. She put on a smile anyway and faced the voice. "Yes?"

"Is that...whole thing about the orcs true?"

The voice sounded feminine, but also young, so it was just as possible she was speaking to a young boy as a young girl. They sounded shy, so she decided not to push the issue. "As far as I know, yes. The clergy of Pelor put a lot of faith in our histories, so we may avoid the mistakes of the past."

"So, um...how did it happen?"

The sound of someone settling down in the grass ahead of her was barely audible, but she caught it all the same. They had decided to sit down for a story. She shifted her gaze appropriately and gave a warm smile as she spoke.

"Legend has it, when the Betrayer Gods instigated the war against the Prime Deities, Corellon, the Arch Heart and First Elf, and Gruumsh, the Ruiner and Corruptor of Souls, met in a mighty skirmish that tore the land asunder." Dahlia paused just enough to listen for the child's attention, and from the catch of breath, it seemed she had it. "From across the field, scattered with the bodies of elves overcome with bloodlust as well as elves desperate to protect their home, Corellon leveled their mighty bow at the terrible form of Gruumsh, and let fly an arrow so true it would have left the world and traveled to the stars...had Gruumsh's left eye not been in its way."

The child gasped in shock. "Wh-what happened next? Did Gruumsh die?!"

Dahlia shook her head. "No, but he was mortally wounded. Only a god can harm another god, and Corellon's might was greater than that of Gruumsh...but not by much. Gruumsh was struck low, and his blood scattered across the battlefield, twisting the form of anyone it touched into a green-skinned, tusk-jawed creature of rage and murderous desire. Thousands of elves succumbed to this mutation, but it wasn't enough; with Gruumsh so wounded, his favor fell away from his followers, and they were driven back by the magic and power of the Arch Heart."

There was a brief pause as the child considered this. "But...doesn't that mean the orcs are all bad guys, like Gruumsh?"

Dahlia shook her head. "Just as your neighbor's mistakes are not your own, the mistakes of other orcs are not the mistakes of just any orc. Those who are zealots under the remaining eye of Ruiner can be terrible people, of course, but what if that is simply what they were taught to believe? What if they know nothing else?"

"Oh…" the child mumbled.

Dahlia pulled out her holy symbol from her bag and showed the child. "This is another tenet of the Dawnfather, to bring light where there is none and show mercy where it has been absent. That includes to the hearts of those so lost from the light that they know nothing but shadow."

"So...you bring light to bad guys?" the child asked.

"Yes, and no," Dahlia replied with an awkward smile. "It's really scary, trying to be nice to someone who is very mean. It's hard to do that and be safe, and it takes a very long time. The best I can do is bring light to everyone I can, and listen before I assume someone is bad. I've met all sorts of people who have good in them, even if it's hidden under a lot of pain."

There was another pause as the child contemplated what Dahlia said. "I don't know if I get it...but if orcs were elves once, I guess they used to be good, too. Maybe that new orc is really an elf, but he doesn't know it yet."

"It's a good place to start," Dahlia sighed. "Just remember to listen before you assume."

"Okay! I can remember that. Thank you, ma'am! I gotta get back to the fields!"

And the voice ran off before Dahlia could reply. She smiled, prayed for the child's good fortune, and allowed herself to enjoy the sunshine.

xXxXx

The walk back to town, and eventually the Nutty Knob, was only a couple miles, so Jayce expected the two of them to reach town in time for an early dinner. He could ask Dahlia what time it was, but he was enjoying the quiet, the dappled sunlight, and the breeze. Her hand was tucked in his arm and her steps were in time with his. It was peaceful, and a welcome change from the last few weeks. He glanced at Dahlia to see if she felt the same, and was surprised to notice her face was screwed up in a worried expression.

"Gippy for your thoughts?" Jayce asked with a smirk. Truth be told, he was nervous about what was on her mind, but he wanted her to feel like there was no pressure to speak.

Dahlia twitched, but regained her composure quickly. "Just a few things…"

"Like what?" he asked.

"Well," Dahlia said, the word drawn out as she tried to stall. "This feels too little too late, but I did ask you to buy me chocolate pastries if we survived the whole World Market fiasco-"

"How do you still remember that?!" Jayce laughed. "Wow. I said it in passing and it's been almost half a fuckin' month since then."

"Just nine days," Dahlia said with a shrug. "Wait, no, ten. So a third of a month."

If that was all she was thinking about, then it was an easy worry to put to rest. "We'll stay in town for the festival, Dahlia. I'll get anythin' you ask for. Promise."

"N-no need!" Dahlia squeaked, tightening her grip around Jayce's arm just slightly. "I'm fine with just a pastry or two-"

"After all you've been through, you can have a day of just cuttin' loose and gettin' food," Jayce smiled. He patted her hand, and a soft smile broke through her worried expression.

"Thank you, Jayce," she said softly and with a genuine smile.

"Was that all you were worried about?"

Dahlia went quiet and her expression twisted in worry again. "No…"

Jayce's face began to take on some worry of his own. "What's wrong?" he asked gently.

"Please… Please don't be mad," she whined.

Jayce sighed. "Dahlia, how could I be mad? I wanna make it right. What's wrong?"

Dahlia hesitated several times before she braced herself and blurted out the words, "I know your accent's fake!"

Both simultaneously stopped short in their gait as Jayce caught his breath in shock and stared at Dahlia, who twisted her face away from him and began to close into herself. Before he could say anything, Dahlia continued.

"I-I don't know why you fake an accent, but you're barely consistent with it. It gets thicker around people you don't know and fades when you're talking to me or anyone else in the group. Especially to me. Sometimes...I think I hear your real voice, but… Why are you trying to sound like someone else?"

Jayce was dumbfounded. He thought he had been doing so well! People were actually listening to him! It had changed so much! He-

"But if you don't want to tell me that's fine!" Dahlia blurted out. "You're allowed your secrets just like I'm allowed to have secrets. Besides, we barely know each other! It's only been a few months. Granted, you saved my life, more than once, but how can you trust me? The last time you were mortally wounded I was so busy with Gauth I didn't even notice you weren't at the camp!"

Jayce jumped at the opportunity to change the subject and grabbed both her hands. "Dahlia, how the hell can I fault a blind person for not seein' me? You weren't the only one who missed me collapsing on the way to camp, and you said it yerself; you were busy. Gauth nearly died that night too, but you brought him back, just like you did me."

She hesitated, but just before she could speak, he cut her off. He had to keep her off balance, to distract her.

"Just no yarrow next time, yeah? That shit burns."

Dahlia sputtered a laugh through the shock of the statement. Her head was low, but her shoulders shook with restrained laughter. Her long hair hid her face as it fell past her shoulders.

He liked her with her hair down. She looked more natural, and looking at her usually made him feel happy.

So why did he feel like a rat?

xXxXx

The Nutty Knob took its name far too seriously, with different types of nuts carved into the ceiling beams and on the seat edges of the stools, and pine wreaths decorated with ribbons and dried acorns, walnuts, pecans, and hazelnuts adorning the walls. On every table was a small bowl of assorted nuts, roasted in sugar and sprinkled with salt, for patrons to pick at while they waited or socialized.

The exception to this was on a far table by the fireplace, bathed in the warm glow of a merrily crackling fire. On the table was Bera, strumming at her lyre and singing a song about gathering the harvest and the joy of a family sharing a meal. It was a slow and gentle song, which seemed appreciated by the afternoon crowd that had just finished their morning shifts in the fields. At the next table over, Jonathan, Zoe, Al, and Gauth sat and listened, quietly talking amongst themselves.

"She's not the only one who isn't who she seems to be," Jonathan hissed.

It wasn't a relaxed conversation.

Al shot Jonathan a glare. "And that was clearly directed at me, so get it off your chest, spellspit. What do you think you have on me?"

Puffpaw jumped on Jonathan's shoulder and joined in Jonathan's reciprocal glare. "I know you are in the Clasp, Al," he growled.

Al hid a gulp by pointedly rolling his eyes. "Yeah, nice. I'm a rogue, so naturally I'm part of the Clasp. Well done."

"Then explain this!" Jonathan spat, barely able to keep his voice low. "You know their language, you know their hideouts, you know their people, and you passed off the item from the World Market to one of their cronies without a second thought! Why else?!"

"He's got a point," Zoe smirked. She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair to wedge her knee against the table. "Why else would you pass off that item?"

Al narrowed his eyes at the siblings. "Tell me what the item was, and I'll tell you everything."

Jonathan wracked his brain. His memory was sharp, but that did him no good when he didn't actually witness the event. He had received thoughts and feelings from Puffpaw, nothing solid or tangible to recall beyond his own thoughts on the matter. He growled and slapped his hand down the table.

"I know it was small," he grumbled.

"See?" Al huffed and crossed his arms. "You weren't even close enough to see what the item was. For your information, it was a magic ring, and the Clasp had 'donated' the ring to the World Market to help lure the margrave. As for how I know that, the 'operative' you saw told me. As for why, this is the sad truth of every fucking rogue out there; you either work in the Clasp, or with the Clasp. There's no other option if you want to live."

Of course, that wasn't the whole truth, but it was close enough that they seemed to buy it all, hook, line, and sinker. Gauth's added acknowledgement helped as well; this was a story Gauth had already learned was true.

"Well shit," Zoe said, her body uncoiling now that the threat seemed over. "So you weren't kidding with that whole 'they'll force you to work for them' thing when we were looking for Dahlia, weren't you?"

Al nodded gravely. "I've seen it happen far too many times, and admittedly, I barely got out from under that myself."

The spot just between his shoulder blades began to burn. Not enough to hurt, but enough to feel uncomfortable. Was that just his mind, or was that real?

Jonathan sighed. Well, that was one secret out in the open. Apparently. Just a few more. However, pushing it now would just make them suspicious of him. "Thank you for being honest with us, Al."

Al reached over and grabbed a candied walnut from the bowl and rolled it between his fingers. "Yeah, well, if I'm gonna stick around my best friend, I have to play nice with the crowd, right?"

Gauth snickered and patted Al a little too hard on the back. "Thank you, friend. Should we keep waiting, or buy drinks?"

"Well, that farm wasn't too far, right?" Zoe shrugged. "Maybe we should keep waiting."

Gauth shook his head. "No. It was a couple miles, so it will take them an hour just to walk back."

"Wow. Her boots will definitely be broken in by then," Zoe grinned. She glanced at Jonathan. "Great time to have a heart-to-heart, right?"

Jonathan gave an exasperated sigh and pulled Puffpaw down from his shoulder to hold her. "Thank you for reminding me, Zoe."

Al smirked and nudged Gauth's arm. "Told you everyone loves her."

Gauth nudged him back hard enough to nearly knock him from his chair. "And I told you that every child likes candy."

"Okay, first off, candy is delicious," Zoe said through a snicker. "Second, what the hells are you guys talking about?"

Al shrugged. "You two are being way too obvious, especially since Dahlia's blind. John, you're always trying to find a time to talk to Dahlia alone, and Zoe, I see you checking out her ass every time Jayce isn't paying attention."

Zoe stretched and leaned back in the chair again. "Can you blame me? It's so round and soft looking… Besides, if she's round down there, just imagine her boobs, right?!"

"Can we please not talk about her like she's some sex object?!" Jonathan grumbled into his hands. "She's a brilliant woman who deserves far more respect than that."

"Says the man who went beet red as soon as her boobs were mentioned," Al snickered. "However, I want to stop you both right there; she hates sex."

"Wait what?" Zoe said, so confused she almost didn't catch herself when her chair struggled to keep balanced on two feet.

Al nodded and popped the walnut into his mouth. "Told me herself. She thinks it's disgusting," he said around the walnut.

Zoe sat back in her chair, her face an almost comically exaggerated expression of shock. "No way… People can hate sex?!"

Al nodded again. "I didn't believe it either, but when I asked her about it in more detail, she recoiled like I dropped a rat in her lap. The very idea literally repulsed her."

"Okay hang on," Jonathan cut in, "if she's that against sex and intimacy, why does she literally cling to Jayce?"

Gauth huffed like it was obvious. "He is her protector, and he treats her with respect. Why else?"

Puffpaw instantly noticed her master's disappointment, and reached up to place her paws on his shoulder and lightly bap her forehead into his chin. Her reward was a weak smile, but then he held her close and began stroking her back. She began to purr loudly as he petted her.

"Wow," Zoe said, still somewhat in shock. "I really pegged her wrong then. Now I feel like an idiot."

"Blindsided me too," Al said, but then went tense and twisted toward the door of the tavern. Once he realized a certain cleric had not yet arrived, he relaxed as Gauth snickered at him. "Dammit. I've gotten so hyper aware of what I say these days…"

"No kidding," Jonathan mumbled. "I wonder if it's because of some sort of trauma-"

"I knew it! You're a loonie!"

The whole table turned to see Bera on the other table, face to face with another halfling. Like most of the people around Turst Fields, his skin was a far lighter shade than hers, which sported a gentle tan, and while his hair was also thick, it by no means reached the same level of curls that Bera dealt with.

The unknown halfling turned and yelled to someone across the bar, "Hey Hammish! You called it! She's a loonie!"

"How dare you?!" Bera spat back. "I am not a loonie! I'm a Lightfoot, same as you!"

"Like a Lightfoot would ever be as dark as you," the man laughed.

"I'm just tan, alright?!" Bera yelled in his face. The man made a clumsy grab for her hair and she danced back, but that landed her at the edge of the table and she almost slid an inch too far.

"Like a Lightfoot has hair like yours!" the man smirked. "I know a loonie when I see one!"

Gauth practically exploded from his chair and grabbed the man's outstretched arm. As soon as he had a grip on it, he yanked upward and pulled the man off the table. There was an audible pop and the man started screaming.

"You will leave her alone!" Gauth roared in his face. The man's screaming instantly died down to a whine of fear as he began to enthusiastically nod that he understood Gauth's intent. Satisfied, Gauth dropped the man to the floor, where he collapsed into a lump and once again began screaming in pain, this time gripping his shoulder.

His drinking buddies quickly scooped the man up and shuffled him away, and Gauth watched them go with a glare. Then he turned to see if Bera was okay, and despite the look of rage on her face, it was pretty obvious she was holding back tears.

"This is why I don't like halflings," Bera grumbled. She sniffed and hopped down from the table to find a stool with everyone else. "Fucking assholes, the lot of them."

Gauth returned to his seat as the whole group just watched Bera for a moment as they tried to gauge the situation. Unsurprisingly, it was Al who spoke.

"So what's a loonie?"

Bera turned to Al with such rage on her face that her eye began to twitch and those present were honestly shocked she didn't chuck her lyre at him.

Al just put up his hands and slowly turned away, his shoulders up and tense and his face a mix of shock and apology.

"Based on what we just saw," Jonathan said softly, "I feel like it's safe to assume it's a derogatory term for a type of halfling."

Bera dropped her head into her hands. "...You're right."

"I don't understand," Gauth said. "What is dir-oggy-tory?"

"It's, uh, like a swear," Zoe answered. "Like calling someone a 'bitch' is derogatory."

"Ah. So 'loonie' is a swear," Gauth said with a sagely nod. "That is why you got angry."

"Close enough…" Bera grumbled into the table. She sat up and pulled off the embroidered headscarf to look at the flowers and vines across it. As soon as it was free, her thick hair bounced around her shoulders in those wild curls she was accused of having. After she stroked the multi-colored flowers with a look of longing, she replaced the headscarf and sighed.

"So, looks like this place won't be good for me, so you're stuck with me a while longer. I'll go as far as Whitestone," she stated flatly.

"What makes you think Whitestone will be any better?" Zoe asked.

"Well, for one, probably less halflings," Bera growled. "Second, it's even farther from Westruun than here."

"Know anything about Whitestone?" Al asked as he looked at Zoe.

Zoe tapped her lip and gave it some thought. "Well there's the heated streets, and the clocktower, and all the inventions...but I can't think of populations or anything like that off the top of my head. Whitestone is a sovereign city, after all, so they're not too keen on sharing with outsiders."

Jonathan suddenly had a thought and spoke up. "Bera, are you on the run from the law?!"

Bera looked insulted as Al snickered into his fist. "What?! No! I just wanted out of Westruun, that's all!"

Her eyes snapped over to the front door of the tavern and she visibly blanched. "But that might change in a second."

Everyone at the table turned and quickly noticed a scruffy man in neglected Shields of the Plains armor enter the establishment, led by two halfling men who were pointing out the very obvious goliath in the corner. Walking with purpose, the armored man quickly made his way over to their table and slammed the butt of his spear against the ground with such force the nearby tables all hushed their conversation. It wasn't needed to get the group's attention, but it was done anyway. It took everything they had for Gauth and Al not to roll their eyes at the display.

"Sir," the guard said plainly, with clear apathy, "you have been charged with assaulting a citizen of Turst Fields, and you are now under arrest. Come quietly, and your sentence will be reduced."

Jonathan stood from his seat, with Puffpaw quickly resettling herself on his shoulder. "And what about the halfling who assaulted our friend? Gauth here only acted in her defense!"

The guard raised an eyebrow. Somehow he looked even more bored. "And he dislocated a man's shoulder in her defense?"

"Oh. That's why he popped," Guath mumbled.

"Well, he picked the man up by his arm to move him away from our friend," Jonathan explained. "The man was grabbing at her hair and insulting her."

"Yeah, because she's a fucking loonie!" the halfling at the guard's hip cut in. "They're bad luck and insane, all of them!"

The guard sighed and pinched at the bridge of his nose before rubbing his eyes with pent up frustration. After a tense moment, he growled through his glove, "Are you citizens?"

"Uh, no, we are not," Jonathan said slowly, confused at the question.

"I should throw your giant in a cell for a few days to teach him a lesson, but honestly, I'm dead tired. Pay the man's medical expenses and you're clear," the guard said.

"What?!" the halfling cut in. "You're letting them go with just a warning?! That thing almost ripped my friend's arm off!"

"Hey!"

The guard sighed heavily and rolled his head back as the halfling nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden interjection. Behind them was both Jayce and Dahlia, neither of whom looked pleased at what was going on.

Jayce, with his arms crossed, glared at the halfling man. "My friend there ain't a thing, and unless you apologize, I'm pretty fuckin' sure he could punt ya halfway across town without even tryin'."

"There! See?! They've got a monster too!" the halfling squeaked, practically punching the guard's knee as he pointed to Jayce. "They just threatened me!"

Jayce shrugged and smirked. "Just statin' a fact, sirs. My friend here's stronger than a team of horses, and puntin' a half-size wouldn't be a stretch. 'Sides, I'm lookin' out for the little guy; my friend here's also got a temper, and I ain't fond of cleanin' up the mess."

The guard visibly ran out of patience and whirled on Jayce. "Fine! Pay the thirty gold to get the man's arm reset, and you'll be free to do as you please. Either that, or three days in a cell for your giant. You pick."

Jayce ducked a hand into his coin pouch and quickly counted out the thirty coins. He really needed to check how much was still in there at some point.

Once it was handed over, the halfling man ran out while the guard begrudgingly followed, and Jayce pulled a chair over for himself after he sat Dahlia down comfortably. As soon as she was seated, Dahlia couldn't help but ask.

"So what in the world did we just walk in on?"

Zoe couldn't help but chuckle as Al massaged his temples. "Some asshole tried to pull out Bera's hair, and Gauth yanked the guy back so hard it popped out his shoulder."

Dahlia winced. "Oof. But no one else was hurt?"

"Just my pride…" Bera whined.

"What about what he called you?" Jayce asked. "What's a loonie?"

Gauth knew this one. "It's a bad wor-"

"I. Am not. A fucking. Loonie!" Bera seethed. She hopped up on the table and began to pace as they stared in shock. "So I look more like my dad's side of the family, it's no big deal! I'm a Lightfoot! Born and bred! Same as the rest of these assholes! Doesn't matter if I have twisty-lous or breadin's, right? I'm a Lightfoot!"

"Bera, please take a breath," Dahlia said softly, although her hand hesitated in an attempt to reach out for Bera. "Can you explain what a loonie is, so we're clear on why that upsets you? If not-"

"It's none of your gods-damned business!" Bera screeched. She stormed past them, hopped down from the table, and quickly disappeared into the gawking crowd.

Gauth blinked several times as the others watched her go. "Wow. Loonie must be a very bad word."

"No kiddin'," Jayce mumbled as he scanned the room. He couldn't pick out Bera anywhere, so he turned back to the group. "So, we got rooms for the night?"

Al nodded. "Yep. Got three rooms, so one for you, me, and Gauth, one for the siblings, and Dahlia's got her own room, as usual."

Dahlia gulped and gripped her arm. She suddenly felt very guilty about the preferential treatment. Was Al sniping at her, or did she imagine his tone? Of course, she had no facial expression to draw from, and of course her mind immediately latched on to the former option.

Guilt prompted her to speak. "I-I can share-"

"Hang on, what about Bera?" Jayce cut in.

"What about her?" Al asked.

"Ain't she gettin' a room?" Jayce said, annoyed that he had to clarify.

Zoe shook her head and spoke up before Al could answer. "Nope. Not yet, anyway. She wanted to pay her own way, and wasn't sure she'd stick with us." She peered around the others to check the crowded common room again. "Not even sure she'll be back, honestly."

"I hope she is. I'm worried about her," Dahlia said quietly.

Al shrugged. "Well, she knows our rooms; she was there when we got them. If she really needs our help, she knows where to knock." Suddenly he turned on Jayce, who almost recoiled from the rapidly closed distance between them. "Speaking of spending the night, it's still mid-afternoon, and we're all curious how much is in the party funds! Don't you have the ledger?"

Jayce winced and choked out a strained smile. "Well, I do got the party gold on me...just, ya know, haven't been keepin' track since Kymal."

"How are you in charge of the coin?!" Jonathan groaned into his fist.

"Because it started as my fuckin' money, that's how!" Jayce spat. He took a deep breath to steady himself, then continued. "Al here almost got thrown in debtor's prison for bettin' everythin' but his smalls and still losin', so I took on the asshole shark fleecin' him and happened to win. Turns out, he was pretty fuckin' deep in the hole, so when it got paid out, I ended up with a pretty gippy."

Everyone turned to Al, who coughed awkwardly and refused to make eye contact. He tried to take an air of indignation, but he was clearly embarrassed.

"Al is not good at gambling," Gauth snickered.

"Yes, ha ha, thank you," Al growled.

"But we know you have platinum! Or at least did," Zoe said. "So you must've gotten more than just a pretty gippy, right?"

"Let's just say I'm keepin' it on me at all times," Jayce said, his voice cold.

Zoe lifted a hand in defeat. "Fine. Fair. Just wondering how much the play budget is."

"Like for the fair?" Dahlia asked, her voice rising in pitch with her excitement.

Zoe winked and pointed playfully at her. "Exactly. Food, fun, and frolicking! And this time, no asshole mentors to kill our entertainment!"

"I'm sure they were just trying to keep you safe," Dahlia said awkwardly.

"Yeah, right," Zoe huffed. "Like I need to be kept safe."

"Depends on what you were doing," Jonathan snickered. "Let me guess, ferret juggling?"

"Okay, that was once!" Zoe laughed. She play punched her brother in the arm and he still flinched from the pain. "But I meant like drinking contests and arm wrestling, or a pie eating contest!"

"There will be pie?!" Gauth's face was almost comically excited as Zoe's comment hit home. The group shared a laugh as Zoe nodded and confirmed there will be pie.

"Probably several dozen kinds at least," she beamed. "Every festival has a lot of pie."

"We don't have pie where I come from," Gauth smiled. "I like pie."

The conversation quickly turned to the various expected events at a festival, but Dahlia began to slowly tune them out. She wouldn't be able to participate in most of it anyway, and she was worried about Bera. As her companions talked, she breathed deeply, allowing the breath to escape soundlessly. Hundreds of sounds brushed her ears, but she needed to push away the individual noises and listen to it swell as a whole. She listened to the echo of the room, the pattern of voices, the movement of sound until she had a general idea of the shape and size of the common area.

Once that was established, she listened for the individual voices, this time listening specifically for the barkeep. She just had to latch onto any voice that was ordering drinks or food, and then whoever responded would be the one she had to speak to. Almost immediately, a deeply voiced man requested another round of his previous order, and a bright voice responded. Her mind immediately filled in the shape of the bar between them, and she got up from her seat to head over.

Dahlia kept her pace slow and deliberate, relying heavily on her sense of hearing to avoid the tables and patrons seated on stools. Her practiced gait was enough to avoid stubbed toes, but it was also sluggish, as she had nothing but her toes and hands to determine if a silent obstacle was in front of her.

Someone recommended a cane to her once. Maybe she should get one.

Finally, she made it to the bar. The edge was cool and smooth, well worn but still polished. She brushed her fingertips across it until she was sure no one was close, and she waited her turn.

It didn't take long. The bright voice called out to her, "Good afternoon, ma'am! Have you been waiting?"

She smiled in response. "Not too long. I wanted to leave a message for a friend. A halfling woman, who was seated with my friends over there." Dahlia gestured toward the table where she had been sitting earlier. "Do you know who I'm talking about?"

There was a brief pause, and she wondered if the owner of the voice, probably a man, was rubbing his chin in thought. "I think…? Ah! Yes, the woman who was playing the lyre for coin earlier. She played well, until Jangar started poking the bear again. I swear, he'll never learn."

"Oh? Does this happen often?" Dahlia asked.

The barkeep sighed. "Unfortunately. Usually he gets away with a shouting match, but that giant's the first to actually grab him and break something. Broke his arm, right?"

Dahlia shook her head. "Dislocated his shoulder. If set correctly, it will heal more quickly, but there's always the possibility the nerves in his arm were damaged. I hope he regains all the feeling in his fingers."

The barkeep huffed and spoke darkly. "I hope he doesn't! Serve him right, harassing my customers. Loonie or not."

"Actually," Dahlia cut in as politely as she could, "what's a loonie? I've never heard that before."

"Oh…!" the barkeep said as the realization dawned on him. "She never told you, huh? A loonie's a wild child, or a halfling from the Lotusden Greenwood in Wildemount. Rumor has it they've got monster blood in them, and they go crazy at the drop of a hat." The barkeep tutted a bit before he continued. "Not surprised she'd want to keep that close to her chest, if she is one anyway. They tend to look like her, and since they've been flooding Tal'Dorei in the last few decades, I've been hearing more and more stories of loonies going wild by moonlight and flattening houses with possessed plantlife."

The man's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper that Dahlia had to strain just to hear. "I've heard some of the more dangerous ones could get whole forests to get up and dance to their tune. I'd be wary of your friend, ma'am, if she really is one."

Dahlia pursed her lips and resisted the urge to shout at the man. "Speaking of my friend, sir, the message I'd like to leave."

"Ah! Right. Go ahead," the man said quickly.

"Please let her know that if she wishes to talk, I'll be waiting for her," Dahlia said flatly. "Thank you."

Out of habit, she reached for the money pouch on her belt, and immediately froze. She didn't have a money pouch anymore. All of her money was gone. It had still been on her belt when she was kidnapped.

"...Are you alright, ma'am?" the barkeep asked.

"I-I'm sorry," Dahlia stammered, her hand immediately digging through her medicine bag for any loose change. "I was going to give you a tip for passing along the information, but-" Should she mention that day? "I-I lost my coin purse sometime back and completely forgot it wasn't on my belt. I'm so sorry."

The barkeep immediately took on a kind tone. "Oh, don't worry about it, ma'am. I'm flattered you thought of it without me reminding you. Besides, you look genuinely shocked that your money's gone."

Embarrassed and ashamed, Dahlia spun on her heel and immediately crashed into someone who had been behind her. A panic gripped her heart as she instinctively shoved at whoever it was, even as hands brushed her arms in an attempt to grab her, and she bolted for the door as a voice cried out in alarm. She heard a body crash over a stool and hit the floor, hard, as she dashed toward the sounds of horses and carts clattering by the doorway.

The floor dropped out from under her and she nearly stumbled into the street. Her boots gripped the ground more solidly, which told her it was damp earth from the dirt streets, rather than the wooden floor of the tavern. She was outside. She was outside in an unfamiliar place with no idea of where to turn next.

Her hesitation proved her downfall as a pair of arms wrapped around her and pulled her into an unidentified body, gripping her close. She twisted, throwing out her hips in an attempt to break the grapple, but the arms around her were too strong. Her mind was in a panic, imagining a mob of hands grabbing her as she was pulled backward, and she tried to stomp as hard as she could on the feet of whoever was pulling her off the street.

"Dahlia! Breathe!"

Her mind was reeling in a panic, which prevented her from immediately recognizing the voice. She knew her heel had dug into something, so her foot must have contacted her assailant's. The grip around her loosened briefly, and she lurched forward, only to be grabbed by the arm, spun around, and wrapped in that grasp once more.

A hand pressed on the back of her head to force her face into the body of whoever had grabbed her, and her nose immediately tingled with demonic magic and the smell of sulfur. Once a source of fear for her, the scent had taken new meaning, and she followed the command to breathe. Beyond the smell of sulfur, other familiar scents began to surface.

Cotton. Leather. Sun-baked hair. A hint of hazelnut.

She knew who this was.

"Jayce! I-I think I hurt someone in the tavern! They'll-!"

To her utter shock, Jayce started to laugh. Not in a mocking way, but in relief. "Dahlia, that was me. No one's chasin' you."

Dahlia tried to pull away, just to face him, but Jayce held her tight. He did let go of her head, so she didn't fight him hard enough to be actually released. "That was you?!"

"Yep," Jayce snickered. "Ass over teakettle. You really got me there."

"I got lucky…" she mumbled into his shoulder. Then another thought hit her. "Oh god! Your foot!"

Jayce loosened his hold to a gentle hug and stroked her hair. "Ain't a problem. My boots're thick enough that I didn't feel a thing."

"I really felt like I was going to be attacked," Dahlia whined. "Now I'm just really embarrassed."

"And who'll hold that against you?" Jayce teased. "Ain't a secret you've had it rough. Hells, if I was blind, I'd be punchin' out every fucker that got too close, just outta caution."

Dahlia snorted out a laugh and finally relaxed, sinking into Jayce's form. She felt safe and comfortable, a stark contrast to most of her life. When did she start feeling that way around him?

"That doesn't change the fact that I want to just crawl into a hole and forget about life for a bit," Dahlia mumbled, albeit with a slight smile. "I'm sorry for hurting you."

"I'm sorry I snuck up on ya. You looked upset," Jayce said softly. "Just wanted to see how I could help, that's all."

Dahlia buried her face again and winced, her hands balled into fists as they remained wedged by her neck. "I completely forgot I lost all my money as I was going to tip the bartender. I lost everything, Jayce. Do I actually own anything anymore?"

"Sure you do," Jayce smiled. "There's your bag, the amulet, the ring from Caril-"

Dahlia's shoulders slumped. "Most of those were gifts. My clothes...were things I actually bought. By myself. And before you say anything, you gave me the gold to get the ring from Caril, so that's a gift too."

"That's a...pretty generous definition of 'gift'," Jayce said with a sigh. "But a gift is somethin' you own, Dahlia. You may not've 'earned' it, but it's yours by right."

"Is everything okay?"

Dahlia squeaked and once again buried her face into Jayce's chest as Jonathan stepped out of the Knutty Knob Tavern. Jayce twisted just enough to confirm who it was before he nodded and spoke, but made sure to keep himself between Dahlia and Johnathan.

"Yeah, just had a scare. She thought I was comin' t' grab her, that's all."

Jonathan bit his lip and fidgeted. "After Westruun, I can't say I'm surprised. So...are you coming back in? Zoe took over ordering food for everyone."

"Yeah, we'll be in soon," Jayce said with a disarming smile. Personally, he was liking the moment of holding Dahlia so close, and she seemed to be calm and actually wanting his touch. He didn't want it to end. "That reminds me; anything left of the gold?"

Jonathan shook his head. "After stabling the horses, no. You'll actually need to throw in a bit more if we're staying more than just tonight."

Jayce nodded. "Thanks, John. We'll follow ya in."

Jonathan hesitated a moment, but then headed inside, a jealous pang gripping at his heart.

As Jayce promised, he and Dahlia followed inside shortly after, and everyone settled in for a very welcome meal. Also as Jayce had mentioned, no one faulted Dahlia for her reaction, especially after things were explained. Even so, she was quite embarrassed, and spent most of the meal in silence as the others shifted back to plans to explore the festival the day after tomorrow.

The evening wore on, and rather than explore the city, most of them took the opportunity to imbibe freely and relax after a week on the road. Al, in particular, became very free with his coin as soon as alcohol loosened his lips, and he bought several rounds for the whole party. Dahlia slipped her drinks to Gauth whenever an unrequested mug was passed to her, and thankfully their inebriation allowed her to get away with the ruse.

Finally, she noted the hour was nearly sunset, and she tried to excuse herself from the table. Jonathan and Jayce immediately piped up and simultaneously, but not in unison, mentioned she might need help to her room. Jayce tripped over his own chair in his haste to rise, and toppled to the floor in a tangled heap as the others burst out laughing.

"Seems I'm meant to be on the floor today…" Jayce giggled.

"Are you okay?" Dahlia said gently, her voice strained from a barely withheld giggle of her own.

"'M fine…" Jayce snickered. "Room's spinin' though."

"I can take her upstairs," Jonathan snickered. "I can at least stand."

"I can stand!" Jayce protested, and he proved his point by indeed rising to his feet and bracing his fists on his hips. He immediately began to sway and grabbed Gauth's arm to steady himself. "'Sides, you ain't got her key. I do."

"And it's very clear Jayce needs to stop drinking immediately," Dahlia chuckled. "After he shows me to my room, I can take him to his. You all continue having fun."

"Suit yourself," Zoe smirked. "Kinda chilly tonight. It would be nice for a cuddle."

Dahlia shrugged. "If there was someone to cuddle, I'd consider it."

"Ow…!" Al snickered through a wince. "I felt that from here."

Zoe shot Al a glare and he barely restrained a laugh when Dahlia looked entirely clueless. Not one to let things lie, Zoe jabbed her brother in the side with a pointed finger which caused him to yelp.

Of course, the noise grabbed Dahlia's attention, despite the fact that Jayce's arm was already around her shoulder. "Jonathan? Did something happen?"

"Oh! No, not really," Jonathan said hastily. "But I was serious. Can I help you take him upstairs?"

Dahlia felt her skin begin to crawl as the realization of what he meant came to her. "Oh! Um, no-no thank you. I can take him upstairs on my own."

"But he can barely stand," Jonathan protested, "and you aren't exactly the strongest among us."

"So the bookworm wants to help?" Al snickered. "Sit down, John. She already said no."

Forced to face the denial of his request, John sat back down with a huff, and Zoe gave him a sympathetic look. The conversation naturally lulled as they watched Dahlia and Jayce hobble away, and then winced appropriately when Jayce stumbled and yanked Dahlia to the floor with him.

Gauth, laughing to himself, motioned for everyone to stay seated and made his way to the other side of the tavern, where Jayce was draped over Dahlia and simultaneously apologizing and giggling at his own clumsiness. Without a word, Gauth slung Jayce over his shoulder, and then realized he should have said something when Dahlia began to panic.

Thankfully, a quick explanation calmed her down, and Jayce giggled like a giddy child as he was carried upstairs.

Finding the keys was a trifling, provided Jayce was not attempting to help remove said keys from his pockets at the time, and he was deposited in one of the empty beds in the room he, Gauth, and Al were to share that evening. Gauth stepped back out into the hallway and locked the door behind him as Dahlia watched on.

"...I can hear you chuckling, Gauth," Dahlia smiled. "What's so funny?"

Gauth turned and leaned on the wall, his arms crossed as a nostalgic smile crossed his face. "Watching Jayce reminds me of when the children get into the glogg, and they become very silly."

Dahlia bit back a grin of her own as it was clear she shouldn't condone children imbibing alcohol, but she could also imagine the antics inebriated children could make.

"What is...glogg?" Dahlia asked, trying hard and failing to keep a straight face.

Gauth rubbed at his chin and gave it serious thought. It would be simple to explain in his home tongue, but finding the words to translate was much more of a challenge. "It is...eh, hum. Alcohol? But spicy."

Dahlia grimaced. The children of goliaths must be tough if they enjoyed sneaking spicy alcohol. The burn of alcohol was bad enough, but to add a culinary heat? It didn't seem appealing, but then again, different cultures and all that.

"Actually, Gauth, I've realized I know very little about you or the lives of goliaths," Dahlia said slowly as the thought came to her. "Would you mind sitting with me and talking about your home? I have to work on the remaining four health potions anyway, and I would love the company."

Gauth's eyebrows peaked in surprise. "You are interested in my home?"

Dahlia smiled broadly. "Yes. This is your chance to be my teacher, and I'll do my best to understand and be as good a student to you as you have been to me."

Gauth was shocked into silence. Since travelling among the shorter peoples, and interacting with the weak folk, he had come to expect a lack of curiosity among them. Especially since he had traveled so long with Yoxsim, who had never once asked for more than his name, he just assumed it was the norm among weaker folk to assume his world was not worth knowing.

As soon as his senses returned, he enthusiastically agreed, and fished Dahlia's room key out of the mess of them in his palm. By the time Dahlia had begun work in earnest on the first potion, he had already explained the naming conventions of his people, including the name of his brother and why he had earned his own.

"What about the children?" Dahlia asked. Even though her focus was clearly on her work upon the only desk in the room, her voice was clear and strong, as if she had been paying attention and waiting to ask the whole time.

Gauth snickered to himself. "They have little names, based on what they do, but… I think they translate to 'child' and then a title." He rubbed his chin in thought. "Like...my niece is Child Scratcher. She scratched her face when she was born and drew blood, and since then, her claws have been useful at making her, uh, authority good against my nephews."

Dahlia nodded and barely touched the pad of her thumb to the tip of her tongue, then nodded again as she returned to mixing ingredients. "Are they all children of your brother?"

Gauth chuckled and waved his hands as if shooing the comment away. "Oh no. Fuglesang has no blood brood."

"Blood brood?" Dahlia asked, pausing briefly to look toward Gauth.

Gauth nodded, even though it was unseen. "Children of his blood. I am unique because I have no blood brothers and sisters, but Fuglesang has twelve. Some of his mother, some of his father, and some of both."

"And...if I'm understanding right, he is your brother because...he's the same age?" Dahlia asked.

Gauth nodded again, excited that someone understood. "Yes! That's it!"

Dahlia motioned through the air as if she was tracing a hierarchy of relations. "Then...your niblings would be-"

"Niblings?" Gauth asked, confused.

"Oh!" Dahlia giggled and hid her smile behind her hand. "Sorry. Nieces and nephews. Just like how brothers and sisters are siblings, nieces and nephews are niblings. I think the word is fun, honestly."

Gauth tried it a few times. "You're right. It is fun. So my niblings…" he said, prodding Dahlia to continue.

Dahlia nodded and turned in her chair to face Gauth as she, again, traced the hierarchy. "So people your age are siblings, and those younger than you are niblings...right?"

Gauth nodded and gently clapped his approval. "Yes!"

Dahlia traced the unseen chart upward. "Then...those older than you are...parents?"

Gauth shook his head. "Yes, but no. They are guardians. Parents in a way, but only blood relations are truly parents."

"But in that way, your clan is all family, right?" she asked.

Gauth nodded. "Yes, although I think we are known as 'herds'..." Gauth shrugged. "That's what Yoxsim said, anyway."

Dahlia wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Yoxsim can shove it."

Gauth burst out laughing at the comment. He was well aware of what that phrase translated to in his tongue, and to hear it from someone as sweet and small as Dahlia was too entertaining.

After a moment, Dahlia added her own giggles to the laughter, and Gauth finally recovered with his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees.

"Dahlia," Gauth wheezed, "I had no idea how awful that man was until you helped me. I owe you for that."

"It's just...who I am," Dahlia said with a weak smile and a shrug. She twisted back in the chair and went back to her work. "There's enough darkness in my life with...everything, so I try to spread light where I can."

"And I thank you," Gauth beamed. He paused for a moment before he added, "It was good to talk about my people. I've...missed them."

Dahlia noted his tone but hesitated before she spoke. "Why...did you leave them?"

Gauth flexed his hands as his shoulders went tight. "I was not strong enough. I could not protect our Stormcaller, and before I could claim my right in the herd, Stormens Spyd…" Gauth rubbed the back of his head as his building rage left him. Now was not the time to scream and roar his anger. Not around Dahlia. "Stormens… Ah, Spear of the Storm told the herd I killed the Stormcaller."

"Clearly that's not true," Dahlia gasped.

Gauth nodded. "He was like a blood father to me. I am very strong, but I cannot face my whole herd. I challenged Stormes Spyd to an Æreskamp, but she tricked my mind and twisted things…" Gauth winced and held his head. "By the time I faced her, it was like my strength was not my own, and I was left in dishonor."

Dahlia, silent and lost, reached out her hand to touch Gauth's massive arm. Despite how little she understood of his world, what she did understand was his pain. She could feel Gauth shift slightly and pause, unsure if he should respond to her touch, but eventually he rested his hand over hers.

"I have…not told anyone that since I began to travel," Gauth said softly. "Even Al does not know."

"Then thank you for sharing with me," Dahlia said as gently as she could. "I can't even imagine how alone you must feel."

Gauth tapped her hand and smiled at her. "But I have my eyes and my strength. You have neither, and you have survived alone for so long, even with your curse. It is your strength that I need if I am to regain my family."

This time it was Dahlia who hesitated, a deep sigh causing her shoulders to droop. "I honestly don't know how I lasted this long. So many times, I nearly gave in...I nearly gave up everything…"

"But you are alive, and you have friends," Gauth said in what he hoped was a soft but encouraging tone. "We will protect you from your curse now, so your strength can rest."

Dahlia felt tears welling up at his sentiment. She desperately, so desperately wanted to believe him, but her mind immediately began screaming in opposition. She couldn't inconvenience them any more than she already had, and besides, they would leave her eventually. Either they would get tired of her demons, or she would outlive her usefulness, or worst of all, even if the former never came to pass, they would learn who she was. Her time with these gentle people was rapidly coming to a close, whether by her hand or-

Who was she kidding? Of course it would be her fault. It was always her fault.

The ground pitched from under her, as if the chair was yanked away, and she hit her knees hard on the floor. She fought to breathe as her mind tortured her with reason after reason, increasingly logical in her clouded thoughts, and sobs wracked her chest. Convinced the attack was all her fault, she began apologizing to the air, praying those she wronged would hear her, when a tune fell across her ear.

She paused, sniffling and hiccuping through tears, as confusion broke through her mental fog. What was she hearing? Plucked strings, tapped or strummed, wrote a melody on the air that spoke to the sadness in her soul and calmed her. Embarrassed as she finally became lucid, Dahlia tapped the heel of her hand across her eyes to wipe away what felt like the trails of a thousand tears as she desperately hoped she wasn't too much of a mess.

Gods above, they probably thought she was hideous.

"Good," Bera's voice said softly. "Wasn't sure that would work, but a twist only finds a nook if it tries."

"I-I only said we will protect her," Gauth mumbled from the door to the room.

"You're lucky I was passing," Bera chided Gauth, but gently. There was no need for more harsh feelings at that moment. "Kinda funny how I was coming to you for advice, and you ended up needing my help."

From the volume of the voice, Dahlia assumed Bera was facing her and meant her in that comment. She nearly folded over again and wheezed, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," through the threat of tears.

Bera sat back on her heels and chewed on her lip, thinking deeply about Dahlia's state. "I...don't know if this will help, because it's a curse, but it's kind of similar to someone I knew… She had a tea that would help her calm down. Can I make it for you?"

Dahlia tapped at her eyes again, this time with her sleeve, and then mentally kicked herself for forgetting she no longer had to worry about the greasepaint. "Ye-yes, you may." She sniffled again. "I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize," Bera said with a soft kindness in her voice. "Gauth, can you get some hot water? It'll need to steep."

Gauth was slightly confused as to why water would need to be on a high incline, but he shrugged and jogged downstairs to ask for the hot water.

Once he was gone, Bera dropped her hand into her bag and mentally called for a specific seed, small and black-brown, with a rough skin and no larger than a large grain of sand. She cupped it in both her palms and whispered another short curse to her Paw-Paw, and a green glow peeked out from between her fingers.

An herb with long, thin leaves began to push through her fingers, its roots wrapping around her lower hand as she revealed it to the room. A soft floral scent began to waft through the room as buds grew into flowers, fully bloomed in yellow with five thin petals and a scruffy tuft of pistils in the center. Bera held it out to Dahlia and wafted it under her nose.

"This is Sinjin's Wort, and I want you to learn everything you can about it before I make it into tea. I promise it will help you."

Dahlia, too curious to be cautious, nodded and brushed her fingers across the plant. The silky softness of the petals easily bruised between her fingers, and the fluffy tufts covered in pollen tickled her as she brushed past. The leaves were stiff and hardy, but very short, and the flowers bloomed in clusters at the top of the bushy plant.

"Sinjin's Wort?" Dahlia asked.

Bera nodded out of habit. "Mhm. Me-Maw was...angry, some days, especially as she got closer to her last, and this tea helped her calm down and be more even-headed. She would brew the petals and leaves and drink it every evening to help her sleep."

"I'm not sure why you think it will help me," Dahlia sighed.

"Well, like you, her temperament would flip on a gippy," Bera said. She began pulling petals off most of the blooms and made a small pile next to her on a handkerchief from her vest pocket. "Of course, Paw-Paw said it was because her womb dried out, but I'm not sure-"

"Menopause, probably," Dahlia grumbled. "Although I'm surprised she got it so late in her life."

Bera tilted her head. "What are you talking about? She died when she was fifty-nine."

Dahlia winced and turned away. "Sorry… I assumed you met her."

Bera shrugged. "Only tended her garden and read her journals. She had a good list of herbs for helping the soul."

"That...might be what I need then," Dahlia said softly. "Thank you. And...if you don't mind sharing, I'd like to go over your Me-Maw's journals with you, if you have them."

"I do, actually. I figured they'd be good for foraging for medicine," Bera said with a smile. "Then again, with you around, I might not need it so much."

Gauth knocked on the door frame and both looked over to him. "No hot water, sorry. Just soup."

Bera grumbled and tapped at her chin, her other hand still extended with the bare plant rooted around her palm. "There's gotta be some way to get the tea made…"

"Does it have to be tea?" Dahlia asked.

"Uh, I have no idea," Bera said with a wince. "I've only ever read of it as a tea."

Dahlia sniffled and sat up straight, now that her knowledge was being called for. "It depends on how the medicinal aspect is extracted. If it's a water soluble infusion, then tea is our best bet; however, if the medicinal aspect is in the essential oils of the plant, then an alcohol-based extract will be as, if not more, effective."

"Okay…" Bera said slowly. She wasn't sure what most of that meant, but she did her best to follow along. "How do we find out?"

"The most effective way would be to get a bottle of alcoholic base and allow the effective part of the plant to steep for several weeks-"

"Pfft. No. We don't have that kind of time." Bera huffed. "Me-Maw wrote that it took a few weeks just to start showing results, so we need to get you on this right away."

As Bera fell into deep thought, Dahlia perked up. Someone was talking to Gauth in the hallway, and she recognized the voice. Jonathan.

"Well, if it's tea you need, I can help," Jonathan said brightly as he entered the room. Puffpaw jogged across the room to Dahlia and immediately crawled into her lap, which startled her enough to nearly topple her backward. However, as soon as Puffpaw began to purr, Dahlia calmed down immensely and scooped up the creature for a hug.

Puffpaw wrapped her paws around Dahlia's neck and Dahlia, in turn, buried her face in Puffpaw's fur. It was so soft, and smelled strongly of vinegar and cumin, along with a more natural smell of dust and a strange hint of warm sugar. That last note was odd, but it was a welcome sweetness among the sharp scent of Jonathan's magic.

"For being a party trick, that spell of yours is surprisingly helpful," Bera said through an obvious smile.

Startled, Dahlia picked up her head, and fragrant steam tickled her nose. Curious, she wafted her hand until she bumped the edge of a small cup, and then traced its edge before she brushed the fingers of whoever was holding it.

Too thin for Gauth, and too long for Bera. It must be Jonathan.

"What is this?" she asked, although she had a good idea what it was as Jonathan placed the warm cup in her hand. Puffpaw dropped to her lap as well, freeing her arms.

"Your tea," Jonathan said gently. "Gauth explained what happened from the hallway, and Bera helped me put it together."

"Oh. Um, thank you," Dahlia said awkwardly. She gave the cup a sniff and a hint of pepper tickled her nose in unpleasant ways. "Did you use your magic to warm it?"

"Well, we didn't have access to a stove, and magic was quicker," Jonathan laughed awkwardly. "Still, the tea should be fine. Does it bother you?"

"Just...somewhat peppery," Dahlia mumbled. She sipped the tea, and despite the scent, all she tasted was something floral and slightly sweet. However, as soon as the warm water hit the back of her throat, she lurched and nearly gagged. She could hear everyone almost panic and threw up a hand to stop them.

"It's fine! I'm fine," she panted. "This is normal. It's just how I react to tea. I took too much at once, that's all."

"Maybe an extract would be a better idea," Bera mumbled, clearly embarrassed. Both Gauth and Jonathan watched her curiously as she, without a second thought, ducked a hand into her large bag and pulled out a dark glass bottle with a hinged stopper. "The strongest thing I've got is icemead, but it's literally so concentrated it's nothing but alcohol. Think that would work?"

"Icemead?" Jonathan asked.

"Frostmead, honey jack, whatever," Bera huffed. "I make it in winter. I take my mead and let it sit outside until it's frozen through, and then strain out the syrup that's left behind. I do this four or five times until nothing freezes."

"And you're willing to just, give that to me?" Dahlia asked, shocked.

"Your friends depend on you, alright?" Bera grumbled. "Seems to me you should be in good shape to do your job, that's all."

"But...I have nothing to give you," Dahlia said quietly, her voice shrouded in shame.

"Well give it a sip first, and give me an honest review," Bera said through a strained smile. It took a lot of time to make icemead, and she'd very much miss the bottle. "Word has it you don't lie."

Gauth and Jonathan confirmed the statement, and Bera put the bottle in Dahlia's hand. Dahlia did her best to hide a grimace; she wasn't a fan of alcohol, but it was the least she could do for such a precious gift.

After carefully setting down the tea next to her on the floor and fumbling with the cork, it finally popped open with a hollow whup and the smell of alcohol and honey drifted by her nose. Dahlia breathed through her nose a few times to prepare herself for the inevitable taste, and then tipped the bottle against her lips.

Dahlia startled forward, her cheeks puffed out with the unswallowed mouthful. Her eyes were wide with shock and Bera groaned in anticipation of a terrible review. The second she swallowed, her face broke out into a massive grin.

"This is amazing!" she almost squealed. "It's...it's not too sweet, and you can taste the subtle flavors of the honey, even though it's clearly fermented! The alcohol is so smooth it didn't even burn!"

Bera, even though she was inwardly squealing with joy, was the picture of refined gratitude. "Thank you, Dahlia. Your assessment is clearly accurate and I have no qualms passing over my prized mead to someone who enjoys it so much," she said with a heartfelt smile.

"Thank you, thank you so much!" Dahlia said with earnest gratitude of her own. "If this works, I'll never use vodka or a similar spirit again!"

"Well, at least until Whitestone," Bera snickered. "I walked around the town some and it's pretty clear I'm not finding a place here."

"Why is that, anyway?" Jonathan asked. "What was that whole business with calling you a loonie?"

"John," Dahlia said, clearly in warning, as Bera whipped around to glare at him. "Please leave that be. It's derogatory and offensive, and while this is Bera's choice to share, I will say her presumed heritage is close enough to a group of wild persons that I don't blame her for denying association."

"...Again, please," Gauth grumbled from the doorway.

"People assume, just because I've got dark skin and curly hair, that I'm just as insane as the people from across the Lucidian Ocean," Bera hissed. "That's what they mean by calling me a 'Lotusden Loonie'."

"And that's clearly far from the truth," Jonathan huffed. He crossed his arms and grinned from his seat on the floor next to Dahlia. "I've got this trick for casting Prestidigitation directly up a target's nose."

"And...they get sparkles in their nose. Big whoop," Bera grumbled.

"Actually, Prestidigitation can summon odors too; anything from roses to rotten eggs," Jonathan smirked. "Next time someone calls you a loonie, they'll regret it for at least the hour that it takes for the spell to wear off."

Bera's eyes gaped in awe. "You are now my new best friend."

"Pleased to provide," Jonathan laughed.

Now in better moods, the friends chatted for some time while Dahlia forced down the tea and Bera, on Dahlia's instruction, added remaining leaves and petals to the bottle of icemead. Eventually, Gauth and Jonathan left to speak to Al and Zoe about what they had learned, although Puffpaw stayed behind to monopolize Dahlia's lap.

Once they were alone, Bera had Dahlia taste more home-brewed meads, including a metheglin with brewed with clove and nutmeg, a blueberry melomel, and a cyser, which was brewed with apple cider instead of water as the base for the fermented honey. Dahlia was far too enthusiastic with her tasting, and eventually started to sway from the imbibement. The conversation got very silly as Dahlia began to stumble over her words and Bera took it in stride, making goofy rhymes to whatever last word Dahlia managed to say coherently.

Although Dahlia was the first to pass out, they both had claimed a bed by then and eventually laid down to sleep. Sometime deep into the night, Dahlia startled awake, the glamor ring uncomfortably hot, and she flicked the golden band to turn it off.

She shifted to rest more comfortably on the bed and placed her hand on her chest. That would help her remember. She just had to wait an hour, counting the minutes, and then she could turn it back on. It was already cooling down.

Her eyes drifted closed. The night passed on. The sun rose.

The ring was still off.

xXxXx

Jayce woke up to pins and needles shooting through his arm, as his position had caused his limb to fall asleep next to him. Groggy, hungover, and thankful his sleep was dreamless, he stretched the arm several times and flexed his hand to encourage blood to flow through it. Slowly, it began to wake up with the rest of him, and he sat up and stretched.

How did last night end? He remembered offering to take Dahlia to her room, but something caused them to detour to his room… Did he even have the keys?

He checked himself over and noted he wasn't wearing his coat or boots, but he was still in his armor. No wonder he was so stiff. Both the missing articles of clothing were respectfully placed at the foot of his bed, which relieved him, so it was the work of a moment to reach over and check the pockets for the room keys. Unsurprisingly, he had none of them. A sudden thought came to his mind and his hand flew for the coin purse on his belt, and he blew a nearly audible breath of relief when he found it was still there.

With that established, he glanced around the room. Gauth was propped up in a corner, hugging his axe with his head lolled back and snoring softly. Al was thrown across his own bed, his boots, outerwear, and armor off, and both feet hanging over an edge. Jayce chuckled to himself and winced as the hangover headache reminded him it was still there. He grumbled and groaned under his breath, fought out of his armor, and donned his boots before he slipped out into the hall.

The door creaked loudly as he tried to close it, but the only response in the room was Al weakly presenting his middle finger toward the door. Jayce snickered under his breath and turned down the hall, but then paused as the hallway swam a bit. He hated hangovers.

He just had to get to Dahlia and ask for that potion she had used before. Wives something. Wives' Tears. That was it. Then he wouldn't have to worry about recovering from the hangover while they explored town.

Jayce had to wrack his brain for the right room number, but then rolled his eyes as he remembered it was the room closest to the stairs. Dahlia had mentioned she liked being close to the stairs, so he had tried to get that room specifically for her. Hopefully she appreciated it. He liked to think that she did. After all, she was so kind, it was hard to imagine her not noticing the effort he made.

He caught his steps just outside the door closest to the stairs. Hang on...he didn't order the rooms. He slapped a palm to his face and leaned against a bare patch of wall. Gods above, he was an idiot.

Speaking of idiot, now his head hurt more from the hangover. Which room was Dahlia's again?

That's right, it was three doors down on the left from the stairs. With a nod to himself, he counted the rooms, rubbed a little more sleep off his face, and lightly rapped on the door. With any luck, she would already be awake.

There was a pause. That was odd. She didn't respond. He leaned his ear against the door and listened. Inside, he could barely hear someone snoring, so he breathed a sigh of relief. She was still there. He should have offered to share a room, so there would be someone around in case of another abduction. Did he offer? He couldn't remember.

It was odd for her to sleep in, though. Usually, she was up far earlier than anyone else. Did she work late last night? She didn't like alcohol, so she probably wasn't drinking…

He hesitated slightly, but then knocked a little louder. Inside the room, a voice grumbled and groaned...and then screamed.

Jayce immediately tried the door in a panic and only barely registered it had been unlocked the whole night, only to see Bera on the left bed, her blanket clutched at her chest as if she had been caught sleeping in the nude, staring at Dahlia on the right bed, who was on top of her blankets and had both hands clutched over her chest as well. Both seemed completely unaware that the other had shared a room the night before.

Jayce sighed and leaned hard on the doorframe. "Fuckin' hells you two… I nearly had a gods-damned heart attack. What happened?"

Bera rubbed her eyes hard with both hands and went back to staring at Dahlia. "Sorry! Sorry, just...thought I saw a ghost."

"A g-ghost?" Dahlia whimpered.

"Dammit, I'm not even sure," Bera groaned. She finally dropped the blanket, which she apparently had only grabbed for comfort; she was still fully clothed from the night before. "Just...when you knocked, I saw this streak of white that stretched from the floor to the headboard. I thought it was a ghost. Maybe it was, since it disappeared so fast."

"Or you were fuckin' deliriuos after drinkin' into a stupor last night," Jayce grumbled. "Hey, Dahlia, you okay?"

Dahlia's face turned toward his and came to rest with her eyes staring past a point on his left. "Um, yes, I'm fine. Just startled, I think. Are you? You were pretty drunk last night."

"I'm fine… Wouldn't mind a swig of Wives' Tears though," Jayce said as he ran a hand through his hair. Now that the shock was wearing off, his head was starting to pound again.

"What's that?" Bera asked.

"A hangover cure," Dahlia said with a smile. "It was one of the first potions I learned."

"If it works, you could make a fortune selling that," Bera wheezed. "Oof. My head feels a size too small."

"I'll get to work then," Dahlia said as she slipped off her bed and confidently walked toward the desk on the far wall. She brushed her hands over the strewn about tools and, to everyone's shock, swore.

"Dammit!"

"What the fuck?" Jayce asked, completely taken aback. "You actually swore?!"

Dahlia slammed her fist on the back of the chair. "I forgot to finish a potion last night and now the materials are ruined! That's two hours of work and 25 gold of materials wasted!"

Jayce rushed across the room and grabbed for Dahlia's hand before she could punch the chair again, but she twisted just out of his reach at the last second. Her face was screwed up in seething rage as she gripped at her face.

"Dahlia, it's fine! We got the coin to spare," Jayce said quickly. "We'll pick up more in town, an' give ya the day to work. No harm done."

"I can't even pay for it…" Dahlia mumbled into her hands.

"Fuck that. You paid and then some with the work you do," Jayce smiled. "You're givin' us a pretty hefty discount makin' 'em yourself!"

"That's true…" Dahlia whispered. Her shoulders dropped as she visibly deflated. "I'm sorry."

"I'll forgive ya for some Wive's Tears," Jayce said with a playful grin. "How long's it gonna be?"

"About fifteen minutes," Dahlia sighed. "I'll get to work. I'll make extra, in case Al drank himself to death again."

"Boy you guys are fun," Bera mumbled.

Jayce patted Dahlia's shoulder. She didn't even flinch. "Great. I'll get downstairs an' order breakfast. See ya there."

Dahlia mumbled a quiet acknowledgement as Jayce left the room. He was confident he had handled that well as he made his way to the ground floor, but that comment about the white streak bugged him. It reminded him too much of the white streak he once saw on her gloved palm. Were they related? No, that previously looked like a stroke of paint, and whatever Bera saw was far bigger.

Just as he tried to make any sort of connect, his foot came into contact with the floorboards of the tavern, and Jayce turned just in time to see Zoe, her arms grappled around a male patron's neck, lock eyes with him.

"Morning, not-boss!" Zoe beamed. Jayce sighed with the weight of the world and trudged his way over.

"What happened?" Jayce groaned.

"This bitch is insane!" the man gasped, his hands clawing at her arms to let him go.

"Not as insane as you!" Zoe spat. "I could snap you in half faster than you could break a twig of straw, and you decided to grope me?!"

"It was a compliment!" the man wheezed, so Zoe jerked her arms to the side to throw him off balance and choke him again. He yelped and tried to claw at her arms once more, but just like the first time, he was unable to shift her solid grip.

Jayce crossed his arms and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just outta morbid curiosity, ass or tits?"

Zoe rolled her eyes. "Ass, obviously. It's my best ass-et!"

Jayce snickered into his palm and smiled. "Nice. But you gotta put 'im down, Zoe."

"Are you sure?" Zoe said with a dangerous grin. "I bet if I snap him in half we can get some good bones for the soup!"

The man went limp in her arms and she nearly dropped him from the surprise. Jayce snickered and rolled his eyes again.

"Now you've done it. He's blacked out," Jayce smirked.

"Wuss," Zoe grumbled. She dropped the man in a crumpled heap to the floor. "Anyway, now that that is dealt with- Oh! Jayce, help me come up with a great name for a guy like this if it happens again! The best I managed to come up with was 'asshole' and 'shit-for-brains'."

"After I get food," Jayce snickered. He turned to the barkeep, who did not look pleased, but also clearly wanted to stay uninvolved.

"Good tidings, sir," Jayce said kindly as he stepped forward. "May I ask what's available this mornin'?"

The barkeep grimaced and nodded toward the unconscious man on the floor. "Once he's out, we'll talk."

"Already on it!" Zoe chirped, gleeful as could be as she grabbed the man's arms and dragged him out of the tavern. Unfortunately, she backed into a chair and nearly tripped over it, once again dropping the man to the floor, but once she recovered, Zoe grabbed the man's arms again and finally removed him from the tavern.

Jayce dropped his head into his hand in embarrassment.

"Many, many apologies for my companion there," Jayce said as politely as he could muster. "Bit of a firebrand, that one."

"I noticed," the barkeep hissed.

Jayce had to figure out some way to save the conversation, but his head was pounding and the barkeep was already cross with him. It wouldn't be as easy as cracking a joke, and he was already testing the man's patience by standing there awkwardly.

Then Dahlia's advice a few days earlier came to mind. He smiled disarmingly as he made sure his hands were open and visible.

"You got any blue carrots?"

The barkeep stopped short in arranging bottles under the counter and looked at Jayce. "What?"

Jayce continued his friendly smile. "Do you have blue carrots? I've seen purple ones 'n white ones, but I figured if they got crossed, they'd be blue. What you figure?"

The barkeep actually paused and rubbed his chin. "Might be closer to lavender than blue, if I'm being honest. Why?"

Jayce shrugged. "Just realized it's surprisingly hard to find blue foods. I mean, tackleberries are purple, and y'all call 'em 'blueberries' 'round here. They ain't exactly blue."

The barkeep's head bounced in a nod as he conceded the point. "They're a little blue, though."

"I'll give ya that," Jayce said, still smiling. "I don't suppose ya got any blue foods for breakfast?"

The man snickered and shook his head. "Best I have is blueberry jam for the scones."

"An' I'll bet a shiny gold coin that delicious baked pastry I smell is those very scones," Jayce beamed. "I'll take a dozen for me 'n my friends, with that jam to share."

"No bet," the barkeep said with a smile of his own. "Those are indeed the scones."

Jayce leaned in and dropped his voice to a whisper. "I'll still toss in that coin if you got a lead on work. Anythin' good?"

The barkeep raised an eyebrow. "Sellswords?"

"Adventurin' problem-solvers," Jayce said with a wink.

To make the deal a little sweeter, Jayce slipped a gold coin out of his pouch and slid it across the counter, careful to keep it hidden until the last moment. Just to show he was serious about the tip.

The bartender subtly looked left and right across the bar, and once he was sure no one was watching, he slipped the coin out from under Jayce's hand and into his own. His own voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned in just enough to make the conversation private.

"Recently, some gnoll scouts have come back to town, hollering about a mated pair of owlbears wreaking havoc on the nearby forest, and sidling dangerously close to town. Word has it, anyone that can take down the pair gets a fair sum of gold in return."

Jayce nodded, a finger tapping at his chin as he thought about it. It was difficult to find anyone who wasn't familiar with the magical mutants, a cross between an owl and a bear, and as deadly as both predators combined. Tales of their ferocity and lethal encounters were too far-reaching to be completely oblivious of the monsters, but he was sure that the combined strength of his team could give them a fighting chance.

"Anything else?" Jayce asked, his voice still low.

The barkeep nodded. "A child went missing a few days ago, last seen by the Hallowed Rest Cemetery, on the east side of town. Her parents are offering every coin they have for any information on what happened to the little tyke."

Jayce nodded again. While that kind of work wasn't their strong suit, it did have the potential to quickly increase their reputation in town. He put on a big smile. "Thank you kindly, sir. Is there anythin' else?"

The barkeep shrugged. "Beyond plenty of folks in town looking for an extra hand to prepare for the festival, that's all the better paying work around here."

"Perfect. Anyone I should talk to about either of those?"

The barkeep immediately shut his mouth as another customer came to sit at the bar, just a few seats down. "I'll write it down for you and deliver it with the scones. Seven copper for the whole."

Jayce paid with a silver coin and quickly tossed the three copper in change back into his pouch. He really needed to check at some point and see how much was left in there.

Once he turned to check where Zoe had claimed a table, Jonathan had joined her, Puffpaw draped across the table to take up as much room as possible as she regally surveyed the room. The siblings were in an animated chat, and based on how Zoe was pantomiming putting someone into a headlock, it was likely about the man she had physically removed from the building just a few minutes earlier.

"Mornin'," Jayce smiled as he stepped over. He pulled out a chair with his foot and sat down, wincing once he remembered he still had a hangover and the sudden movement was not appreciated by his skull. "How'd you sleep?"

"Quite well, thank you," Jonathan smiled. "Although likely because I paced myself better than everyone else last night. You were quite out of it near the end there."

Zoe sputtered through a laugh and weezed into her fist. "Pfft. Yeah, you were barely able to stand. Gauth carried you upstairs!"

Zoe and Jonathan giggled at the memory and Jayce forced a terse smile. As much as he wanted to avoid looking embarrassed, he could feel his ears getting hot at the comment.

"Just 'cause I can swear like a sailor ain't a guarantee I can drink like one," Jayce said, and then immediately switched gears for the conversation. "You two ready t' pull yer weight today?"

Jonathan looked surprised. "We have work already?"

Zoe thwapped her brother's arm with a limp backhand. "Obviously. He was chatting up the bartender as you came down, dork."

Jayce nodded. "We got leads, anyway." He dropped his voice, just in case someone was listening. "Owlbears in the Parchwood Timberlands, too close to home to be comfortable, and a little girl gone missin' by the cemetery east of town."

Jonathan nodded and scritched Puffpaws cheeks as he thought about it. "Either job could hold surprises, but the first sounds the most predictable."

"And deadly," Jayce said gravely. "I'm assumin' I don't gotta explain what an owlbear is."

Zoe nodded gravely. "There was this arena fight thing when we were kids that had one thrown in the ring with a bunch of gladiators. It was clearly starved, and it went fucking wild with murder as it just destroyed those poor morons in the ring."

"It did eventually go down," Jonathan said quickly, "although not without great effort. The survivors were a pair of half-orc brothers who only lived due to being more brutal than the beast."

"Yeah, well, ain't a secret we can be monsters when we put our fuckin' minds to it," Jayce grumbled under his breath. He glanced at the stairs and noted Bera making her way down, her headscarf firmly in place as she finished the knot behind her neck. "And looks like more of the crew are wakin' up."

"So Bera's staying?" Zoe asked.

"At least until Whitestone," Bera said as she climbed into a seat. "Sunrise to you all."

"Bera, you've got the weirdest way of talking," Zoe said.

Bera rolled her eyes and hopped up to her knees on the chair so her chin wasn't level with the table. "You'd think, in a town choking to death on halflings, they'd be more accomodating."

"Or you could ask to sit on Gauth's lap," Zoe smirked.

"Oh! I like! Do you think he'd let me?" Bera giggled.

Jayce snickered under his breath as Jonathan asked Bera if she really was attracted to the literal giant in the group, and he barely registered the confirm as Al, pale as death, slowly made his way down the stairs, followed by an equally hungover Gauth.

Jayce offered a smile as the two chose their seats around the table. "Mornin', you two. Before you say anythin', I already asked Dahlia to whip up a batch of Wives' Tears for the lot of us."

"Bless you," Al groaned. He rested his head on the table and Gauth gently patted his back with sympathy. "You'd think I'd learn."

"Oh you do," Zoe giggled. "You just promptly unlearn as soon as you start drinking."

The group laughed, and scones were delivered with blueberry jam as Dahlia came to the table with six bottles of clear beige liquid tucked in her arm.

"Oh please tell me that's what I think it is," Al moaned, his head held in his hands. He didn't want to admit that Zoe was probably right and that he thought the comment was humorous, so he made it more obvious that his hangover hurt instead.

Rather than sit, Dahlia passed out the Wives' Tears potions, although she skipped Zoe. She did make a comment about how she remembered Zoe had mentioned she doesn't get hungover, and how Zoe sounded particularly chipper. That, of course, had Zoe launch back into her story of that morning's groper, and Jayce excused himself from the table to order a plate of sausages to go with the scones before he could make any comment about how embellished her story was getting.

Finally, they all settled and began to discuss the possible jobs of the day. While the prospect of predictable work was tempting, they agreed the missing child was the greater threat, and Jayce checked the note under the scone plate to find their contact.

The plan was set. Time to save a missing child.