“No way!”

“Yes way, man! The shit real flipped. Kicked two [Warriors] in the ass before returning back to his master like no damn nothing. Swear it on my two eyes!”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope! As real as Ton’s Torch! But that’s not all. There’s more!”

“Oh?”

“So then it trotted back, yeah? Standing, neighing, asking nips treat —tons of it— to his [Handler]. You know, standard Cline stuffs. But! But! Here where it got weird. Suddenly it stopped! Just stopped. Then, no more than five, maybe six breathes later it went nuts. Just nut I tell ya. It shouted, stomped, and the weirdest thing —pointing repeatedly to a nearby bush. And I’m like what the heck? It just Grona. Well fine, purple Grona, could net maybe two golds to those academy’s ‘gravers. But couldn’t it wait until the battle ends? We still got arrow-hailed here, man. But Omp, like just totally impressed with the kicking, asked nothing more and shot the bush three times. And what do you know, a freaking ambush! Two [Scouts]. Coated their dagger with damn Eperti.”

“What? I thought the town get rid of those?”

“Apparently, some buds been growing near south. A caravan found it two moons ago.”

“Damn, bless us with Her light.”

“...never let the evil awake. Never let him leave the night embrace… yeah, damn bandits got no respect. ”

“But how it knows there’s an ambush there? Oh! Oh! I know! I know! The things got level, right?”

“Come on man! You and your plain folk talk! Of course not! The [Handler] had. Guy’s 30 or at least close to 30. Pete’s read.”

“All right, all right, I’ll not argue with you, big town unbeliever. So what happens next?”

“What always happens, duh. The ambush was like their last hope or something. Once Omp shot all of the ambushers, the rest just ran away. No one mad enough to pursue them of course. The damn forest obviously trapped.”

“...still it’s good. Only five, maybe six ran. The rest, we got tied and forked to the guards. They got a hearing on the [Magistrate] office last fifth —which of course just formalities. We got like ten witnesses, by her light. Then it’d be just matter of Pete testifying. I think it’ll be around the hmmm… next third.”

“Theeeen…”

“Then it’s pay time, you big doof!”

“Ha! How much do you guys get?”

“So-so. Just a two-fifth. The [Handler] got another two-fifth, which of course, fair. But those greedy bastards. Took the damn rest for ‘damage incurred’. And I know Pete said that we should just to let it go, but seriously. They only lost like three crates. As just the crate. The boxes. Not what inside it. And it’s not even grain, or meat, or some other food which gonna get bad if muds got on them. It just some fabrics. Clothes. Pick and wash it will ya? One-fifth? Seriously?”

“Sound like a real week, Hor.”

“Sure is. Told you, Ren. We regs got some action too. Not just you fancy feather delvers!”

“Right, right.”

“So how’s the wife?”

“Good, good. We just finish rotation on 4th.”

“Guarding?”

“Ha, I wish! We got babysitting duty. There this two D-ers. And let me tell you— hmm?”

“...finally!! Half-bell? Does he forget what Em did the last time he’s so late? Sorry, Hor. Got a team meeting. Let’s talk later!”

“Okay. Tell the team I said hi!”

“Will do, will do!”

"Lena dear~ One of your delicious brews' please! And what's today special?"

Bud! Seriously?! That not what you should’ve said! Zhortal’s beard! Thought you’re the smart one. Here let me spell it out for you if it too freaking hard: ‘I’m sorry Em, I know, I know I’m late again. But there this amazing thing which you wouldn’t believe I found!’. See? Easy! At least that might save your skin this time!

Resisting facepalming his head, Rene shut his twitching ear down. He kinda ashamed using his mother’s side hereditaries like this. But it wasn't like the town had Eqi herds to listen to. This as much as practice he’d get —discerning his teammate from the other voice in the crowd. Downing his sigh, he spared a breath nodding to Hor, a quick one before shifting —refocusing himself into yet another ran of his infamous impromptu questing. Her light, he hated this. But there just stuff a good friend (and a good husband) must do. Like now, averting group-breaking disaster by bringing Em her sour.

Grasping the cold jug the cook left a wick ago in the counter, he leaped to half-ran. Well, half-half-ran. The most running possible he could get in this blasted market’s day-like crowd.

And as his body finally left the slight breathable space that was the counter corner, he found himself to be squeezed on and off. No more than five steps in and he already felt a bump on his back. And another bump. And another bump. If Arlet wasn’t that good, he never wanted to have meeting here. Too many people. Why couldn’t they meet in better place? Even Pog’s team got their own booth on Central Lakeside. And they’re a C. Surely it wasn't too much strain on their fund to had an occasional meeting on fancier inn. It won’t even cost much, maybe two-three golds for a moon. But no, only Arlet had sour. And without sour, it was like choosing between this sweaty crowd swimming or seeing Em explode every time their team inevitably did something stupid. Which they obviously would. He just wished Clem had sense to stop asking for noon meeting. Thirteen bell’s rush, really? People were coming for eating, drinking, talking —their only short break after half day of work. Of course the place would be packed to the brim, he sighed-complained tilting his head left side as yet another swinging arm almost face-smacked him again.

Oh no!

A heavy bump and the slight lightening of his jug later, he heard a splash. The jug had spilled. Not much, he managed to quick twist his hand to contain some of the escaping liquid in mid-air. But it did spill. Truly, questing, especially the impromptu one was filled with danger, he shook his head. The terrain dreary and the journey perilous.

“Sorry!”

He shouted a quick apology. Passing two unfortunate casualties; Mar and Gamor. Mar as usual was very understanding —the girl only lifted her hand in a threatening fist that definitely would bonk his head this evening. Gamor though, a bit different. To unwitting passerby, he might look ...cordial. Grinning before waving him off in boisterous laugh. But no, the man was a cunning Frit, hiding himself deep in the tallgrass. A [Blademaster] instinct couldn’t be fooled! Particularly when the said instinct told him the dude grasped his right tight on his pommel!

Meh. He’d buy the man a drink or two later. Perhaps three rounds with a special-special to smooth it up. Not now though. Now was Em’s calming time.

Refocusing himself, he steeled his hand. Tending to the chilled jug in balance-grip, maintaining its position even though his feet were trekking the most treacherous terrain. Through the yawning table, through the slippery floor; passed the monster parts’ bags and their bastard owners who didn’t trust guild’s warehouse system, step by step, he, the brave Rene Khada-Flis was marching, keeping his course forward in his noble quest of ‘averting himself getting sprayed by Em patented wrath of fire’ sorry, saving his poor unfortunate fool of a friend.

Acrobat-balancing the jug, he finally came to the last hurdle. A narrow strip between two tables guarded by the ferocious twin [Shield Bearer] backing each other. Both were clasping humongous tower shields on their back. And to top it off there were two drunks, sprawling —compromising both the floor and themselves.

He considered his option. All by all, one by one, until one remained. He nodded, grimly. There only one thing he could do if he wanted to arrive before the fourteenth bell tolled.

“[Lamuss Leap].”

A smack of wind hit his face as his body left the cavernous floor. Somersaulting through the air, he glimpsed the wooden ceiling, the little web and dust —the crawls. Stains and stuffs Arlet only bother to clean once the shower season passed.

He saw the table, the people. Shouting, laughing, pointing at him. They’re so slow, so small. Eating on their tiny plates, drinking from their tiny cup. He felt so free, like bird, soaring through the air, so—

BAM!

“ ...plates please.”

“....”

The world backed into motion. To color. But not to sound. The room was silent. And he saw him, Clem, his finger flopped, half-pointing something to Len, looking at him with a wide open eyes.

Splosh. Splosh.

He ignored his stupid drool face for the more important thing: the content integrity of his carried jug. Feeling the slight bounce, he nodded —it still three quarter full, only a half cup was lost.

“Hahaha! Good job Ren!” His bud snapped out from his reverie, congratulating him. And at once the room burst into cheer, which he replied with grin.

“Great jump!”

“RENE! RENE! RENE!”

He continued waving his hand as he walked to his team booth, taking up Em’s cup and filling it halfway.

"You're late."

His wife commented. Downing the half of her cup content in just three glugs. He smiled, at least he was kinda forgiven. Clem though was still in trouble. As she downed her cup, not once she even strayed from looking —staring at his buddy who to his credit, so used to her being angry, he didn’t even sweat. Len though, as any prudent waitress in all taverns, had anticipated the incoming fire, the quiet before storm. She already retreated way, way back —attending another table of [Miners] who just finish their morning shift.

"Pish-posh Emmy, don't be such a stickler~" He poured himself a cup. As his buddy, suicidal as he was, began his stupid repartee. There was no way he was getting into this without at least drinking one cup of the good sour.

And as expected, just as he gulped the drink down, the man said the worst thing imaginable, ”Ren, I always wonder what do you see from this—" Which he responded by almost spraying his drink to the stupid rogue face. The man even had a gall to conspiratorially nudged his arm when his blasphemous finger pointing to the freezing-smiling Em.

"By all means, continue that sentence..."

"—prim and proper lady such herself?"

"Ha, ha. Come on Em.” He choked. “You know how is it with Clem." Bumping his chest a few times, he pretended a lightheart chuckle.

“Fine,” he heard his wife defeated sigh. “Let just start the meeting.”

“Alright,” he said, pulling the privacy screen on their booth down.

“As you guys know, per last quest we’re only fifty coin shorts until we reached the season target. Normally, I’d say we just continue to do the 4th quests. However with your trials, Clem. Also with Arlene and Lydia’s schedule, we should try spending at least three to four days on 7th just to speed things up, racking points.”

“Yeah, when they’re getting their breaks again?”

“Yesterday, but this is just their preparatory’s break. So it’ll be short, only four weeks. The after exam is a bit longer, six weeks and three days.”

“What do you think bud? Ready for some rust action?”

“Actually…” Clem shifting his eyes a bit, pausing. “Your plan is good Emmy, but…”

“But?” Em asked. Then he saw it. The telltale of his buddy got something big on his hand. It subtle, but his eyebrows kind of twitch left side when something —something super important happened.

“Wait. Did you get—”

“Shush!” Clem cut him off.

“Ok. Ok. Should we search another place to talk?”

“No, the chatter is out there. It just a matter of time before… Let me just—”

Then he saw him turned his head left and right in quick succession, making sure the privacy screen was down. Which he unconsciously followed. Emily even tugged the second layer, the drab of a black curtain, down. Still, it seemed that wasn't enough. Forcing his gasp down, he saw him undid his right wrist stitch, bringing out a green, ring-sized stone.

He shielded his eyes.

FLASH!

"...the running wind of the forest rear..."

His buddy’s voice filled the air around them when he heard a heavy thud of something fell. Blinking, he saw Em’s chair had sprawled. His wife had jumped from her chair.

He felt the increasing wind on his matted fur, fluttering it away from his chest. The air around their table swirled. He could hear several hushes coming from behind the privacy screen.

"...in the arm of Sylvar, among her blessed tree...

He frowned, what so important that made Clem activate his Air Bubble? He knew his bud, he never used it unless it was the only option. The things needed at least B-rank [Enchanter] to refill. And Selena charged like five golds each just because the rest of the enchanters never went out from their lab.

"...your ever walk. Your graceful skip. Your stumble and rumble and tumble"

Waiting for the spell to finished, he saw Em already sat back, patting herself a few times. Her chair was returned to the upright position. However, she was now eyeing at him. At his chest? What so — Oh! His fur! Furiously, he tried to shove it back. Keeping a smile all the while. But her looks already told him that he was in another round of ‘conversation’ for skipping his morning grooming. Why Em so obsessed with grooming? On his home, his brothers and him would only groom once a week. Which something apparently unacceptable for big townfolk

"...for a part of mana drawn..."

He could felt the spell was reaching their final step. The loud whoosh stopped. The sound stilled. Everything ceased, people laughing, talking, shouting —all was quietened down to nothing.

Clem opened his eyes. A swirl surrounded their table—

"...a brief rest in your step."

He saw a rune flashed in the air. A haphazard symbol before it sparked out to a bubble, enveloping them. The spell, it was complete.

“So?” his wife asked.

"Big News, Emmy! The biggest news!"

Glancing left and right, he saw Clem pulled a sheaf from his inner pocket. "...this,” he said, pushing it into Em’s hand. His hand almost trembling.

“This just comes from my contact."

"...is this real?"

He saw Em’s eyes bulged.