Two days had passed since Zelkath, Varexus and Saenaria had at last met their healer, Selandrya, and the four were now traveling a well-paved road, headed east.
"So," said Selandrya, "Zelkath… let's talk about your name for a moment."
"I knew this would come up," Zelkath replied. "I get it. Zelkath isn't normally something you'd name an elf. But there's a story behind it. My father used to be a mercenary himself; he's the one who taught me how to fight. His best friend was a tiefling, and this tiefling's name, get ready for this… is Zelkath. He's still very much alive and well, and he and my father are tighter than bark on a tree."
"So that's where your name comes from," Saenaria replied.
"To be fair," said Varexus, "I knew there was something, ah… infernal about it."
"Sundale," Saenaria said.
Zelkath cocked his head. "Huh?"
"Name of the next town; Sundale."

Varexus perked up. "Sundale! There's this alchemist there I really like; he's got the best poisons I've used."
"Better than me?" Saenaria replied in mock indignation. "You won't have to pay for the alchemical masterpieces I make!"
"So tell me," said Selandrya. "Do you have someone waiting for you back at the palace? Well… besides the kelvars."
"No," said Saenaria, shrugging. "And I've never tried to find anyone, either."
"Young, and busy with your magic and your studies," Selandrya said casually. "I understand that."
"It isn't that," Saenaria replied. "There's no point in it. No one's going to love me."
"That is not true," Varexus said in disbelief. "How can you even think that? Who told you– say the word and I'll make them look like an accident!"

"Logic," Saenaria said, flipping her hair slightly to reprimand a stray lock that was inching too close to her eye. "You all know my story; I told you yesterday."
"Your parents, sending you to that magic school." Varexus nodded.
"Exactly. I ask you…" Saenaria cocked her head slightly. "How can I be good enough for anyone when I'm not even good enough for my own parents?"

Selandrya stopped, gasping as her mouth opened in abject shock. "Darling!" she cried. "Oh, Saenaria, no, no no!" She shook her head vigorously, her snow-white hair bouncing in response.
"Aren't wizards supposed to be able," Zelkath said, "to use logic to come up with statements that make sense? In what alternate reality is any of that true? You are a smart, beautiful, talented woman, and if anyone says different, I will throttle them!"

The next two hours passed without incident, and the four found themselves in Sundale, entering the Wolf's Head, a decently kept inn. Unfortunately, a rather grumpy deep gnome was standing in their way.
"Back off," he snarled. "This here affair's for Red Falcons only."
Zelkath smirked. "Do you know," he said flatly, "who I am, you little shit?"
"If you're not with us, I don't ca– oof!"
"Suck in that gut!" barked Zelkath as he gave the gnome a kick to the stomach. "By all the holy fucking gods you are one sloppy prick! How long was I gone?! Who taught you to slouch?!" His eyes darted to a man at a table in the center of the room. "Was it you?!" He stormed over to him, grabbing him by the collar. "You lazy fuck," he sneered. "You look like a fucking worm, I bet it was you!"
"That's Veilstrike," droned a drow in the corner.

The mercenaries all stood up, and Zelkath cleared his throat. "Anyone who doesn't want their skulls caved in," he shouted, "sit down now! Gods damn it, where's the discipline?!"
Everyone immediately returned to their seats. "W- Well, see," said the gnome who had originally accosted Zelkath. "Y- you was gone for so long… w- we elected a new captain, yeah? But he wasn't as… well as much into this… eh… 'dissy-plin' as you was, see? Th- that's him, on the right at the bar, there."
Zelkath casually walked to where the new captain was sitting, grabbed the back of his drunken head, and slammed it into the bar with enough force to crack the old wood. The captain fell to the ground, unconscious.

"Listen up!" he thundered, "Zelkath Veilstrike is back in charge, and aside from this abysmal lack of discipline, we have a problem! A red dragon named Zalventhrax the so-called 'Vermillion Terror' is threatening Kerralt! We are going to kill that dragon, skin it, cook it, and eat it while divvying up its hoard. Who wants to see the Falcons whipped back into shape, and become the demons on the battlefield we once were?! Who wants to kill themselves a dragon?!"
As the assembled mercenaries cheered and finished their drinks, Zelkath smirked again. Over the chants of "Veilstrike! Veilstrike! Veilstrike!" Varexus, grinning, shouted, "Did you knwo your old company would be here?"
"No!" Zelkath replied, laughing. "This was a lovely surprise!"
Zelkath walked over to the stunned innkeeper and smiled. "Room for four more?"
"Barely," the innkeeper replied, "but yes. Ten gold for a night."
Zelkath unceremoniously laid out forty gold pieces. "I, ah… cracked your bar."
"He had it coming," the innkeeper said, "he was haranguing my daughter." He smirked apologetically, "but I'll have to charge you the price of repairs."
Zelkath chuckled. "Fair enough," he said. "Sorry about the idiot."