We reached a nearby village within the hour and snagged a couple rooms at the inn. Meals and non-alcoholic drinks were on the house. I ordered lemon sevai, while the girls went with bacon cheeseburgers. Grease dripping down the golden cheese briefly made me covet their dinners–to say nothing of the potato wedges sparkling with salt fresh from the earth. But my order was no slouch in presentation. Strands of an angel's hair mixed with cashews, chillies and coriander garnish. A deep breath of lemon-scented noodles cleansed the day's frustrations.

  Three travelers entered through the saloon style doors. A lacertilla with sleek viridian and black scales alongside a pair of companions hiding their faces. One hid beneath the hood, the other under a mushroom-hat.

  Screenname: Scotch_WoodCock. Race: Lacertilla. Level: 10 Class: Paladin. Affinity: Earth.

  Screenname: Haruism88888888. Race: Elf. Level: 10. Class: Priest. Affinity: Water.

  Screenname: Michaela Robinson. Race: Human. Level: 10. Class: Artificer. Affinity: Wind.

  I snuck a glance at Char; she subtly shook her head. This trio was Marcus free. Thank God for that. The lacertilla was built like a bulldozer. Probably only needed two fingers to make an eggshell outta my skull. The look in his eyes told me it wouldn't take much convincing.

  His companion removed their hood, revealing a grey-skinned elf whose complexion and thin frame made him look sickly rather than mystical. It wouldn't take more than a stiff wind to knock him over. Their wiry companion was cloaked in black and white butterfly wings. Removing the mushroom hat, revealed a young copper-skinned woman with toadstool studs in her ears.

  The elf's shifty eyes scanned the room. He nudged mushroom-girl and nodded toward me. Her blackhole eyes were devoid of light but radiated disinterest. She quickly shook her head, and the elf looked a touch relieved.

  Well excuse me for not being interesting. Given her accessories, she'd probably care if I were a mushroom. "Y'all crazy murder hobos?" I asked.

  Scotch_WoodCock’s whiskers warbled. "That a threat?"

  I shook my head. "Vibe check."

  His eyes flashed gold, probably taking stock of our threat level. His gaze lingered on my wife a little longer than necessary. "Nah, we ain't assholes. Y'all seem alright."

  I pointed at Nana. "This one goes feral without a balanced breakfast, but we're otherwise good."

  Nana stuck out her tongue, covered in half-chewed burger and saliva.

  "See what I mean?"

  Scotch_Woodcock laughed. He half strutted, half slithered toward the space between Nana and I. "Starved for a good drink. Got anything good here?"

  Char slid him a menu. "Not if you don't like sake."

  The lacertilla's whiskers hummed. "Can't get enough of it."

  Char threw her hands up. "Finally! Someone who gets me." She shot a half-cocked side-eye my way. "Robin here isn’t man enough for sake."

  “Says the girl who can’t drink vodka."

  “Well excuse me for liking drinks with a little flavor."

  "And excuse me for liking alcohol that doesn’t taste like expired water."

  "Vodka does have flavor." Haruhism88888888 took a seat in-between me and Char. "I mean, some brands taste like the River Styx, but my roommate showed me a few good ones." He flinched when Char glared at him and jumped when I clasped his shoulder.

  "Finally," I said, "someone who understands me."

  Scotch_WoodCock laughed. "What's your drink of choice?" He asked Nana.

  "Uh, lemonade?"

  He balked. "Lemonade? Mixed with what?"

  "Milk and cream, I think. Dad makes it when he's not busy..."

  Her downcast eyes said that wasn't very often. The ingredients sounded like a pseudo milkshake. Probably not too hard to whip up. "Want me to try making it sometime?"

  "Hmm, can we do it tomorrow?" she asked.

  "Of course. We'll toast our success."

  That brought a smile back to her face. Any lingering distrust dissipated, as Michaela sat between Char and Nana. I was half-convinced she took that spot to sit across the table and look annoyed at me. It being the only seat available was just coincidence.

  "I'm Robin, by the way."

  "And I'm–" Char said standing up. "going to order a round of sake. Want a cup?"

  Scotch_Woodcock laughed. "God, yes, please."

  "You sure that’s a good idea, Char?" I asked with a cocked eyebrow.

  "I don’t get drunk after one round of sake, Robin."

  "Tell that to our wedding guests."

  She opened her mouth, paused, closed her mouth, and nodded. "Fair enough. But that was the only time!" Char pecked my cheek and approached the bartender.

  Scotch-Woodcock admired her backside before grinning at me. "Wedding guests, huh? How long you two been together?"

  "Married about a year. Together a bit longer."

  The elf cocked an eyebrow. "Role-play or real life marriage?"

  "Real."

  "No shit," Scotch_Woodcock laughed. "Good job, McRobin. Sounds like someone else I know," he said with a nod toward Michaela.

  "Oh? Which one of you two is Michaela's lucky beau?" I asked.

  Haruhism88888888 shook his head. "Neither of us is that lucky. We’re all just friends." He paused to chuckle. "Sorry, I just realized we haven’t introduced ourselves yet. I’m Bradley. As you might guess from my screenname, I’m a bit of an otaku." He rubbed the side of his neck and looked at Michaela. "As you’ve figured out, this is Michaela."

  "Hi," she said in-between sips of water.

  "We met on the night of the Admin’s–er, presentation," Bradley said.

  Presentation was a good word for it. "What made you two group up?"

  "He’s helping me find my online boyfriend," Michaela said quickly. "I wanted to surprise him but signed up for the Ayla server by mistake. I’ve been looking for him since the merge."

  Hence the screenname so her boyfriend could identify her. "Why don’t you just send him a message saying that you’re here?"

  "I don’t know his screenname."

  Fair enough.

  "She and I ran into each other a few times during the beta," Bradley said. "I caught up with her after the presentation. She told me her goal, and I decided to help her see it through."

  "You decided to become her gallant knight.” Char returned with a ceramic bottle and a pair of cups. “That’s so sweet."

  Her tone wasn’t mocking, but Bradley still turned cherry- red.

  "Bleh." Nana gagged. "All this mushy stuff makes me sick."

  Scotch_Woodcock snorted and poured himself a cup of sake. "Hear, hear."

  Char regarded him with a thin smile. "Now for the actual gallant knight." Now there was a dash of mockery in her tone, but it was subtle enough that no one else seemed to notice.

  He puffed out his chest. "Damn straight I’m gallant. When I saw these two squishies travelling together, I knew I had a duty to keep them safe. No question I’ve been our MVP."

  Bradley smiled. "He’s right too. There were a lot of tight spots we wouldn’t have survived without Jeremiah."

  "How far have you guys travelled?" Char asked.

  "We’ve been to four districts,” Bradley said. “Haven’t seen Ira, Clymenus, or Amècche yet."

  "Do you think Michaela’s beau is hanging around one of those?" I asked.

  "Who knows?" Jeremiah gulped down his sake with a happy sigh. "Man, that’s good."

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  Charlotte matched his drink. "Where are you travelling next?"

  Bradley shook his head. "We’re not. We’ve decided to spend another day or so in Aleppe. If we don’t find him, then it’s off to join Diego’s army."

  Char’s face soured. "You’re giving up, Michaela?"

  Michaela calmly shook her head. "No. Jason likes combat. He’ll join if he’s still alive."

  "Makes sense." Char tilted her empty cup back and forth. "Top me off, Jeremiah."

  "With pleasure. Shame I can’t partake in another round. Can’t afford a hangover—trust me, that’s programmed into the game."

  Bradley laughed. "That’s our Jeremiah, dependable as ever." He smiled at Nana. "So that leaves you, Miss…."

  "Shadowcloak."

  "Excuse me?"

  "Shadowcloak. That’s my name."

  Jeremiah masked his ensuing laughter by coughing into his elbow. Michaela had no noticeable reaction.

  Bradley’s smile widened, but he seemed to take the name in stride. "What’s your story, Shadowcloak?"

  "Lady Charlotte shot me with an arrow."

  Bradley and Jeremiah shared a concerned look, while Michaela remained unbothered.

  Char scowled. "You don’t have to keep leading with that, kiddo."

  "Trust me, Char, I’d bring it up if she didn’t." I said.

  Char fired a sharpened glare my way before sighing. "Hunting accident."

  Nana nodded. "Mh-hmm. They’ve been real nice to me—well, Lady Charlotte has."

  She paused for a moment to glare at me. Unfortunately for Nana, my time with Char built a resistance to the glares of others. So, I just smiled and waved. To my surprise, she smiled back.

  "And the two of them are taking care of me. I’m staying with them to become Lady Charlotte’s protage."

  "Protégé," I corrected.

  "Bless you," Nana said. "Right now, we’re on a quest to get me a weapon!"

  Jeremiah perked up. "Oh really?" His eyes turned gold again. "Reaper, eh? What kinda weapon you going for? A special knife? Scythe?"

  Nana’s nose wrinkled. She looked disgusted with the concept of using anything with a blade. "Why would I get a knife when I could start blasting with shotguns?"

  Bradley spat out his water. Looks like I wasn’t the only one who didn’t know this fantasy game had weapons from the industrial age.

  "Shotguns?" Jeremiah snorted. "Those are too flashy. You’re better off with a sword. I don’t know if Reapers use broadswords, but you could always find a good-sized knife."

  "But shotguns are way cooler than swords and knives."

  Jeremiah rolled his eyes. "They’re classics for a reason. Blades are elegant and reliable. Better suited for duels and slaying monsters than a clumsy gun. There’s a reason fantasy stories are laden with legendary swords. Excalibur. Durendal. The list goes on."

  "Not much of a list if you can only name two," Nana said.

  Jeremiah grunted his disdain for Nana’s words. "Kids these days…”

  Bradley chuckled. "So, tell us about your gun quest. What do you have to do?"

  Char bristled. "It’s a dungeon called Colve."

  "Colve?" Bradley’s brow furrowed. "Like colony and hive?"

  I snapped my fingers. "Bingo. Char, would you be a dear and tell him what he’s won?"

  "An all-expense paid trip to shut the hell up."

  I laughed. "Don’t mind her. Char’s just salty because she’s terrified of bugs.”

  "I am not!" She groaned. "They’re just so… so…."

  Bradley’s body convulsed. "That?"

  "Yes. That." She flicked her gaze onto Nana, and the corner of her mouth curled into a grin. "You’re lucky I like you, kiddo."

  Nana nodded. "Mh-hmm. Although we could do without the bird brain."

  I noticed Nana’s grin. She wasn’t being unnecessarily hostile; she was learning. So, I grinned right back. "As you wish. Just don’t come crying to me next time Char nearly kills you."

  Nana stuck her tongue out but started laughing. So, I did too.

  Char rolled her eyes. "You're an Artificer, Michaela. What do you make?"

  "Flutes."

  My excitement drained. Nothing against flutes–I had a soft spot for ‘em. But I was hoping for something more exciting.

  Michaela’s blackhole eyes homed in on me. "You seem disappointed."

  "No. Just wondering if your flutes can do anything cool."

  "All flutes are cool." Her eyes flashed gold, and a flute carved from a fungus appeared in her palm.

  I wasn’t an expert, but it looked like a porcino mushroom. "Why is it made of mushroom?"

  "Fungal punk."

  "Is that a thing?"

  Michaela nodded; Bradley shrugged.

  "That’s so cool! Got any other flutes?" Nana asked.

  Nana’s praise earned a thin smile from Michaela. She replaced the porcino flute with a pair of transparent swords–one Roman and one pirate. They appeared glass at first glance until I noticed the mucus secreting from their tips. She wasn’t kidding about fungal punk. Holes had been carved into each blade, presumably for flute use.

  "Do you use them as flutes or swords?" I asked.

  "Yes."

  I had to see, or hear, how that worked. "Mind giving us a show?"

  Michaela stared blankly. I couldn’t tell if that were a no. Maybe she needed some encouragement?

  "Flute-sword. Flute-sword." I chanted in a low voice.

  I learned three things in college. One, Char was the most amazing woman in the world. Two, any fast-food place open after 10pm was my best friend. And three, chanting a request in a group will probably make it happen.

  Nana joined in almost immediately, lightly banging her hands against the table. Jeremiah joined in the hand banging. Bradley lightly pumped his fist in rhythm. Char didn’t join but offered an encouraging wink.

  Michaela exchanged the Roman sword for a mouthpiece and tightly screwed it onto the pirate sword’s tip. As her fingers pressed against the flute, I noticed the inconsistent paint on her nails. Not that each finger was a different color–deep cobalt blue across the board, but the amount of paint waxed like moon phases. A pristine thumb, crescent index and so forth until a full pinkie.

  She took a deep breath and touched the flute to her lips.

  Then the magic started.

  Michaela’s song was whiskey smooth. The first notes transported me to a swanky lounge. Deep purple lighting replaced the inn’s lanterns. Guests exhaled emerald green smoke from private booths–wait, that part was almost happening. Motes of green light poured from the sword’s holes. My HUD identified them as benign spores. Not poisonous, just a fun aesthetic. Michaela certainly knew how to put on a show.

  Char tapped my shoulder. She stood, smirking, with an outstretched hand. "If I waited for you to ask, I’d end up sitting all night."

  She wasn’t wrong. My grin met her smirk, as I took her hand.

  We slowly danced around the room. Spores formed a fungal haze that blocked out everything but Charlotte. I twirled her until her back pressed against my chest. Inviting eyes dared me to do more, so I pecked the top of her head. Her contagious smile ended with a mutual laugh.

  "This almost feels like a fairy tale," she said.

  "‘Snow-White and Rose-Red’ ain’t got nothin’ on us."

  "That’s an odd one to pick."

  I shrugged. "I really liked it as a kid. The idea of karma, ya know? Help people, they’ll help you out. And the people who take advantage of you will get theirs in the end."

  "Na?ve but sweet," Char chuckled. "I just liked that it had a bear."

  I pressed her hand to my lips. It stayed there for the remainder of Michaela’s song. Savoring the moment felt better than thinking about tomorrow’s romp through the bug dungeon.

  "What’s wrong, sweetie?"

  "Nothing’s wrong,” I said.

  "Then why are you crying?"

  I was suddenly aware of the wetness around my eyes and cheeks. "You know something, Char? That’s a good question."

  She gave me a wary glance. "You need to talk?"

  I shook my head. "Nah, think these are happy tears." Of course she rolled her eyes. "What? You knew I was sappy when you said ‘I do.’ Remember our wedding vows?"

  Her response was something in-between a laugh and a groan. "How could I forget?" She glanced at Michaela. "What song was that?"

  "‘Liebslied’."

  I cracked a grin. "You need to sneeze?"

  Nana scoffed. "No, bird brain. It’s Kreisler."

  What did cars have to do with this?

  Michaela perked up at Nana’s comment. "You know Kreisler?"

  Nana nodded. "Surprised to hear it on a flute, but it sounded good."

  "Thank you." Michaela dipped her head, and the flute-sword returned to her inventory. "I’m tired. Goodnight." She approached the innkeeper, presumably to get a room.

  "Looks like our cue to call it a night." Jeremiah yawned loudly. "Enjoy your bug dungeon."

  Char expressed her discomfort through a scornful grunt.

  Bradley chuckled. "It was nice meeting you all. Hopefully we run into each other again."

  The two of them joined Michaela at the front before making their way upstairs.

  "Should we go join them?" I asked.

  Char eyed me warily before answering. "Not in their beds, but I won’t argue against sleep. Tired, Nana?"

  Nana shook her head. "No—" Her yawn was even more impressive than Jeremiah’s. "Yeah… goodnight."

  We split at the top of the stairs. Nana got her own room, while Char and I rented a decent suite. I hopped onto my side of the bed, sinking immediately into the mattress. Warm marshmallow blankets smothered me. The cottage bed was like rocks compared to this!

  Char got into bed beside me but turned away. She was unusually quiet. No goodnight. No lewd comments. Probably just tired. Or stressing about the bugs.

  "G’night, Char." I kissed the top of her head and settled in. A wave of fatigue crashed over me. I didn’t realize how tired I was. That was usually a precursor to a really good sleep…

  "Robin?"

  Her voice was unusually vulnerable. Tired as I was, I couldn’t let that go unanswered.

  "Yes, love?"

  "I love you."

  Her back remained turned, so I slipped both arms around her waist and held her. "I love you too."

  She gently squeezed my hands. "Would you recite your wedding vows for me?"

  "Are you alright, Charlotte?"

  "Yeah, it was just nice dancing with you like that. Got me feeling a bit sappy." She chuckled. "You’re a horrible dancer by the way."

  "Gee, thanks." Even though she couldn’t see, I still stuck my tongue out.

  "You’re sticking your tongue out at me, aren’t you?"

  I scoffed. "Pfft. No."

  "You’re even worse at lying than you are at dancing." She squeezed my hands just a little bit tighter. "It made me think of when we danced at our wedding. Then I started thinking about the ceremony—and the brisket. Do you remember the brisket?"

  "Do I remember the brisket, she says? I’ve tried to recreate that spice rub at least a dozen times. Getting real close too."

  She brought my hands to her lips. "While thinking about all that, I realized how much I wanted to hear you say your vows again. So, could you? Please?"

  I snuggled closer to her and whispered in her ear.

  "I would travel Middle Earth on foot for you. I would simply walk into Mordor for you." She giggled, just as she did during the ceremony. "And I would scale Mount Doom to stand before the fire for you. Because you, Charlotte Fillmore, are my precious."

  She rolled over and pressed her face against my chest. "Just as sappy as I remember."

  "You’re just jealous that you couldn’t come up with something better."

  "You’re probably right about that, Robin." She pressed a finger to my lips with a smirk. "So let me show you how much I love you without using my words."

  "Oh yeah? And how’re you going to do that?" I asked, knowing full well how she would.

  After all, we reminisced about the wedding. High time we remembered our honeymoon.