Realising how tired she was, Guelder made her way up to the bedroom she shared with her core team. Not that she had any hope of using her bed. A smashed Tristian was curled up in it, facing the wall, his complexion greyish, a sizeable kneading bowl waiting for deployment under the bed. For a moment, Guelder considered administering him a potion to neutralise the alcohol in his system, but on second thought, she decided against it. Apparently, this was Tristian's first encounter with booze, and he shouldn't lose out on a valuable lesson.

To her surprise, she found that Tristian was already under supervision. Valerie, the team's new and as yet untested fighter, was sitting on a stool in the corner, her shoulders slumped. At Guelder's arrival, she perked up, and her bright blue eyes cast a scrutinising glance at the newcomer. It was strange. Valerie shared a room with Jaethal, Tartuccio's other ex-teammate. What was she even doing here?

"Ah, Valerie. So kind of you to keep watch over Tristian. Or do you just require some time alone?"

"Both," she answered gruffly.

"You must be tired. You can call it a night if you wish. I will take it from here."

Valerie stood up from her chair and walked up to Guelder, looming over her. They were approximately the same height, but Valerie was a tower shield specialist, endowed with the appropriate amount of strength and constitution, even if her pretty face usually distracted people's attention from the sheer bulk of her body. Guelder sensed the challenge, although she had no idea what it was about. She held the other woman's gaze.

"Listen closely, Guelder," said Valerie in a soft and menacing voice. "I know you druids can be quite flexible when it comes to morality. Live and let live, heed the call of nature, embrace your inner animal and your basest urges, and so on. However, you chose to include me in your group despite or because of my paladin upbringing, which means there is hope that you might be willing to heed the voice of righteousness. Now, this voice demands you to leave Tristian alone."

Guelder contracted her eyebrows in an effort to make sense of Valerie's words.

"You lost me there, Valerie. Can you elaborate?"

"Let me put it more simply. I am here to dissuade you from exploiting an inexperienced young man's vulnerable situation, and should this dissuasion fail, I will prevent you from doing so, whatever it takes. As the leader of this group of adventurers, even if you're not yet a baroness, you're already in a position of power, which you're not supposed to misuse for your own pleasure, at the expense of a subordinate."

Guelder finally pieced it all together and deflated a little, breaking into a wry smile over the absurdity of the situation. Why did everyone suppose tonight that she was out looking for a ride? And who would even think of hitting on someone who could throw up at any moment?

"Thank you for this reminder, Valerie. Rest assured, I am not a danger to my teammates' innocence."

"Every predator says so."

Guelder treated her to a flat look. The last thing she wanted was take a deep dive into this topic. Not tonight, and not with Valerie, who had already decided in advance what to believe.

"Well, I am a different kind of predator," she said.

Tristian groaned on his bed, and turned away from the wall, seeking to ease his turbulent stomach.

"Quick!" exclaimed Guelder. "You hold his hair, I hold the bowl!"

After successfully averting the emergency with flawless cooperation, Guelder continued.

"I commend your vigilance, Valerie, and I want you to keep it up. I will need a pair of eyes to watch over me, lest I get drunk off the sweet wine of power, and lose control over myself. However, I expect you to base your judgement upon sound proof instead of gut feelings in each and every case. Do you wish me to leave Tristian in your care for the night?"

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Valerie hesitated, but then she realised that saying no would make her look stupid.

"I'm happy to watch over him. Feel free to use my bed."

"Thanks. Regard this as your initiation." Guelder removed her hairclip, letting her bun dissolve into a disorderly mass of light brown hair, and offered it to Valerie. "Here. To keep his hair out of the mess."

She collected her stuff, visited the bathroom to prepare herself for bedtime, then entered Valerie's room.

At that moment, she suddenly understood why Valerie had chosen to spend the night caring for Tristian.

If you wonder what a newborn's brain tastes, try it and wonder no more.

Jaethal Frozen Lake flinched as she heard the bedroom door open with a creak, and prepared a withering remark for her doll-faced mayfly of a roommate who dared disturb her reading and meditation again. However, as she looked up from the book on her lap, she saw it was not the mayfly. It was the group leader, the lucky one who would be promoted to baroness once she presented the Stag Lord's head in Restov. A mere chit of a girl, probably not even fifty years old. Not that Jaethal wanted to be in her place. Of course, Jaethal was much more suited to a leading position due to her age, wisdom and experience. However, the current state of things required that she remained under cover, safely hidden in the background. Let the child try her hand at leadership, and run to the adult for advice whenever she would burn a finger.

Jaethal's jet-black eyes locked onto the girl, as she pushed the door in with a bundle of clothes in her arms. The girl's eyes darted from Jaethal's face to the candle burning on the nightstand, then to the Stag Lord's head, preserved from decay by Jaethal's spell and sitting next to the candle, then to the scythe leant against the wall, glinting ominously in the candlelight. Jaethal observed with amusement how she gripped her laundry to stop her hands from trembling, how her strange, catlike eyes widened in horror, and how she fought back against a deep-rooted instinct to turn and flee. It happened every single time she saw Jaethal, from Lady Jamandi's recruitment event to their next encounter under the Old Sycamore, and even afterwards. Jaethal wondered whether the girl would ever improve at controlling herself. Most people reacted to her undead state with some degree of aversion, but this was something more, something deeper. One day Jaethal would figure out the root cause.

The girl forced herself to regain her composure, more or less.

"Sorry to disturb you, Jaethal. I switched beds with Valerie, so that she can watch over Tristian. He got a bit sick."

Jaethal's lips drew into a cruel smile.

"Oh, did he now? Looks like mighty Sarenrae cannot protect her followers from embarrassing themselves while drunk. Unlike the Pallid Princess."

"Not that you drank much tonight."

"Why would I? I spent more than a hundred years of my life studying the Path of Pleasure, in theory and in practice. Then I died and was brought back from the dead. As a result, I cannot experience bodily pleasures anymore. In her infinite wisdom, my goddess revised my choices and redirected me to the Path of Undeath instead. I have yet to process the changes this entails. I surmise you are intelligent enough to see why partying in poor company and guzzling down cheap beer has no appeal for me, and why I am better off eating and drinking the words of my goddess in the silence of my room."

"Indeed," managed the girl, hellbent on keeping up the conversation. "Thankfully, pleasure comes in many different forms and is not restricted to the body. I suppose you can still enjoy art, literature, success, victory, your efforts bearing fruit, and so on. Even the company of people to your liking. But I can tell you have quite high standards in this respect."

Jaethal stopped herself from making a bored face. Did this greenear really think she could say anything new about pleasure to a devout follower of Urgathoa? Still, her positive attitude was something to be encouraged.

"You are not without hope, child. One day you might find the truth."

Indeed, pleasure took many different forms. One of them was to watch how desperately the girl tried to conceal her utter abhorrence of the teachings of Urgathoa for the sake of good team morale. Jaethal generously let go of her gaze and immersed herself in Serving Your Hunger again, while the child wiggled into bed, shook out her thick, wavy hair, then entered the relaxation trance elves used instead of sleeping. Jaethal was glad she didn't need that anymore, either.

As the apprehensive expression disappeared from her face, replaced by the calm of rest, Jaethal found herself staring at her again. There was something intriguing about her facial traits. She seemed... familiar. Then again, Jaethal was probably just starved for elven company here in the lands of mayflies she'd been banished to. She chased the strange déjà vu away, and returned to her book. The night was still young, with plenty of time to seek the truth.