Fortunately, the Adventurer’s Guild never closed, no matter how late it was. Ranthia found herself in front of the job board as she tried to find something immediate and violent. Naturally, there was nothing that fit the bill. Most of the violent jobs required a journey outside town, except like every other city in Remus, Ariminum shut its gates at night. Honestly, almost all of the jobs needed it to be daylight for one reason or another. Sure, some of the bounties offered for bringing in wanted criminals might be doable, at least some of those men and women were likely in town, but hunting down a wanted person was hardly a fast and cathartic task.
Investigations, the bane of a need for immediate violence.
The Guildmaster was with a group of men that were passing by while they chatted, though the man happened to notice Ranthia at the job board. He bade the other gentlemen a good night, then strode over and joined her at the job board, as if the Guildmaster had any real need to look at it.
“I had hoped to see you sooner. How are you finding our city?” He asked.
Ranthia wasn’t startled, she had heard his approach and recognized his voice when he was speaking to the others. She did decide to continue to awkwardly stare at the job board, as her mind focused on trying to find a job for tomorrow.
She really wasn’t up for conversation, but alas.
“Sorry, I’ve been dealing with personal matters. The city is… fine?” She had no idea how to answer the question. The man couldn’t have forgotten about the news he dropped on her last they met—why was he assuming she was enjoying herself?
“Indeed. I never asked, did you have a place to stay?”
“I got a room in a tavern pretty near here for now, I haven’t decided what to do long term.”
“…I see. Tell you what, I probably should have saved this for keeping one of the Rank A’s around, but my predecessor did speak exceedingly highly of you. I’ll make an investment in that. Are you familiar with the Owl’s Sanctum?”
Ranthia shook her head, baffled at why he expected her to know anything about some bird seller or something. People were so weird with their eternal desire for caged animals to try to keep as novelty décor or try to form companion bonds with. She had little interest in such things.
The Guildmaster failed to explain himself. Instead, he gave her directions to the location and told her to speak to a man named Meneas there, after morning. Then he forced her to wait while he wrote a quick message on a blank scroll. Admittedly, it was a vaguely impressive sight; the man’s hand was a blur while he wrote, empowered by some specialized skill. Once he was done, she was handed the scroll and instructed to give it to this Meanmoss or whatever his name was on the morrow.
Ranthia just nodded, confused and overwhelmed. With that, the Guildmaster bade her a good night and made his exit while he whistled a tune.
Ranthia examined the job board a little longer, but ultimately bowed politely to the clerk and left without taking any. Unless whatever the Guildmaster had handed her was a job, the lack of detail was more than a touch maddening.
While she was in the Guildhall, Ariminum’s nightlife had taken over. The stalls were occupied by entirely different shops than they had by day. Jugglers and illusionists provided entertainment. Women and men displayed entirely different types of goods as they tried to entice customers to the brothels that employed them.
Ranthia wandered for a while and explored the sights. She hadn’t seen this side of the city yet, and she was kind of loving it. The city felt transformed and far more mystical beneath the gorgeous moonlight. The entertainers were eye-catching and many of them had performances that required so much space that they would have been unable to perform during the significantly more crowded daytime. Where many of the shows would have been drowned out by the sunlight, they dazzled in the night.
Ranthia wandered, vaguely enraptured—and mercifully distracted from her problems—until one entertainer in particular caught her attention. It was a gorgeous, very pale woman with piercing red eyes touched with formless grey shifting about. Her hair was roughly as short as Ranthia’s, though spiky black. The woman was a [Dancer], and she seemed to be a damned good one. It wasn’t entirely surprising that her costume probably had less than two hands worth of strategically placed fabric, connected by fine silver chains, but the more surprising part was that it wasn’t the sexuality and generous curves on display that drew Ranthia in.
Instead, it was the woman’s incredible grace that drew the teenager’s gaze. The sensuous movements of the dance were swift, graceful, and hypnotic. But more than that, they spoke to a part of Ranthia. Not in a sexual or romantic way, but something… deeper.
Ranthia marveled in the movements until finally her distracted mind placed what had caught her attention so deeply. [Knives & War] loved the show. She even felt like the skill would have leveled if it wasn’t capped. Somehow, the dance reminded her of an elegant battle, a graceful display of magnificent rhythm. The fluid motions resonated with her and whispered promises of potential within her.
The dancer was surprisingly high level for a civilian. [Artisan – Dark] level 216 and [Warrior – Gale] level 128. Ranthia supposed that she should have found the levels and the [Warrior] class strange for a performer, but honestly? Her classes and levels felt natural due to the sheer beauty of the woman’s graceful movements.
Ranthia had no idea how long she watched the woman framed between the two beautiful, mystical moons. It was only when she finally realized that the moons had faded from sight that she was finally startled out of her reverie. The dancer had continued her dance without a single pause in all that time. Ranthia wasn’t even sure if she could have danced that long without a single interruption!
Ranthia hurriedly tossed an overflowing handful of coins into the bowl near the woman’s feet, which got a nod of appreciation from the dancer. Gods and goddesses, even the nod seemed to flow into and be a natural part of her ongoing dance. Ranthia had to tear herself away before she lost the entire night to the woman’s art. She had a job in the morning! …Probably? Eternally tempted to turn back with every step she took, Ranthia returned to her room and settled down to try to get at least some sleep.
Ranthia failed to get up before the sun, but at least it was still morning when she finally roused herself out of bed. In a bit of a rush, she visited the baths, then geared up for the first time since she had entered town. At least her dinosaur leather cloak was cleaner now.
Once she was ready, she set out for the… Owl’s Sanitorium, or something like that? The fact that it was an important(?) job(??) only barely helped her inability to recall names, it seemed. At least the scroll had… Minimus’ name on it; or at least she was pretty sure that’s how those letters were read.
The building shockingly had nothing to do with birds, despite the gigantic statue of an owl perched in front of the building. Instead, it was some sort of massive… inn? She had no context for anything like this. Though the district was only what Ranthia thought of as the middle-good district (she was not sharing that term with anyone else), the place felt like it should have been deep within the wealthiest district.
Polished marble, murals everywhere she looked, staff in finely tailored and dyed uniforms, vivid colors painted everywhere, and… were those gemstones on that door?!
Awkwardly and stiffly, Ranthia walked up to one of the—many—counters and asked to see Minius while she presented the scroll, though she didn’t open it. The man behind the counter smiled a stiff smile at the wildly out of place Adventurer and ushered her into a waiting room with the softest, plushest piece of furniture that Ranthia had ever experienced.
It made her wildly uncomfortable. She half expected guards to burst in and arrest her for ruining the nice furniture with her plebeian butt the moment she sat down.
Ranthia just focused on trying to force herself to not be jumpy. She was there for a reason! She had no idea what the reason was, mind, but she was supposed to be there. That was the important thing. It didn’t matter that her rear was planted on something that probably cost more than she had ever made throughout her entire life.
A man dressed in a rich blue toga entered after a while with a formal but comfortable smile on his face.
“Thank you for waiting, I’m Meneas. I was told you bear a message for me, lady courier?” The man’s voice sounded polite enough, at least.
“Oh, um, actually I’m an Adventurer. The Guildmaster told me to give you this.”
Her efforts to make herself less jumpy had failed, she still jumped up the instant the man entered. Despite her ongoing efforts to master her flustered blush, Ranthia stepped forward to hand him the scroll.
“Oh, I wasn’t expecting someone so young! Well, let’s see…” The man opened the scroll and read it while Ranthia desperately struggled to not twitch and squirm.
She wasn’t normally this restless!
“Well, let’s see how you do. Shall we?” The man announced after he finished reading.
Ranthia received one of her least favorite things while they walked: an information dump.
In summary, the place offered short- and medium-term housing to officials and wealthy citizens that had business with the government in the capital. They had their own security force but what the man described as a miscommunication had resulted in their private security not handling the facility’s own connections to the aqueducts and sewer. This ultimately caused, in his words, “a tremendous ‘pest’ problem.” Complete with the strange emphasis on pest.
Minimoose decided to consult with the Guildmaster, who somehow negotiated that, in exchange, they should house one of his elite Adventurers. The Adventurer would periodically do a clean-up run of any new pests while they lived there.
Somehow, and gods alone knew why a B-Ranked was selected, Ranthia had ended up that Adventurer.
The deal seemed profoundly overly generous! At least once a month she had to delve into the workings beneath the place to deal with any and all pests and problems. In exchange, she was to be given one of their more basic units free of charge. No meals would be included, though she would be able to order and pay for them if she wished. If at any point she was unable to perform her duty in a timely manner, she would be charged a normal month’s rate for the room. And the number of rods that he named for the rate nearly made Ranthia trip over her own feet.
How did anyone afford that place?! And this was the ‘basic’ room?!
“Best of luck, I’ll have one of our staff wait in the storage room right here with the key to your unit. If you are unsuccessful at dealing with the pests, please be honest.”
And then he handed her a lantern he procured from a small cubby near the door, unbarred and unlocked the door—an actual lock, with a key! For a mere interior door!—and ushered her in.
The man made no move to follow and, instead, closed the door with what seemed like excessive speed and force the moment she walked past.
…She hesitated until she was confident that she hadn’t heard the lock or the bar.
There was a set of stone stairs that led her deeper into the gloom. At the bottom of the stairs was, bizarrely enough, a war zone. Slimes on a scale she had never before seen nor believed existed, gigantic rats, and some sort of tiny dinosaurs were engaged in a massive three-way skirmish for territory. There had to be thousands of them.
And, less shockingly, the smell of the sewers had already found her nose, overpowering even the carnage that unfolded before her.
Ranthia just kind of stared at the situation while she allowed herself to imagine going back to the client, shaking her head, and leaving. She had thought the deal was too good to be true, but she had been wrong.
The deal was completely fair!
At length, Ranthia finally accepted that she was going to try to deal with the situation, so she crept a bit higher on the stairs. The stairs, at least, seemed to have some sort of still-active inscription that discouraged the ‘pests’.
With her body secure, she channeled while she threw out her first mirror image, shifted to it, and began her bloody work.
Apparently, slimes came in exceedingly acidic forms too. She never knew. She had never wanted to know.
[*ding!* [Strengthen Blade] has leveled from 122 to level 124!]
For the first time in her life, kill notifications had to be disabled. She would have gone insane.
Once again, while her knives carved through rat after rat, she was so tempted to just leave. Once again, while she set upon another group of the tiny dinosaurs—compsognathus, apparently—she narrowly managed to convince herself that a decent place to live with some level of privacy would be worth it.
It would be worth it, right?
At least [Blades of Darkness] seemed to protect her knives from the acid. She only had to worry about her poor, highly abused leather cloak. Hopefully she would still be able to get it repaired.
[Combat Awareness] pulled its weight, and she was beginning to be exceedingly grateful that she had upgraded the skill. It was all that allowed her to protect her valuable arcanite vest, despite her tunic’s extensive damage and just how much acidic slime was everywhere.
If one of the rats or dinosaurs had a disease and bit one of her mirror images, the disease wouldn’t be transferred when she shifted to another body, would it? Injuries weren’t transferred, but her equipment—damage and all—and the contents of her stomach seemed to. …Maybe she would visit a Dark [Healer] afterwards, she decided.
Seriously, how could a single free room be worth this?
Ranthia took yet another break on the stairs in her true body while she waited for her mana to regenerate. Her waterskin was really starting to feel light too.
Just how long had she been down there?
She finally felt like she had made real progress. The ‘pests’ seemed to be thinning.
At long, long last nothing moved. The job was… done.
[*ding!* Congratulations! [Shards of Reflection] has reached level 168! +1 Free Stats, +3 Dexterity, +4 Vitality, +2 Speed, +7 Mana, +9 Mana Regeneration, +7 Magic Power, +7 Magic Control from your class, +1 free stat for being human, +1 Mana Regeneration and +1 Magic Power from your element.]
[*ding!* [Mirror Spirit], [Scattered Reflections], [Divine-Touched Identify], [Dodging], and [Combat Awareness] have reached level 168!]
[*ding!* [Reflections of Reality] has reached level 45!]
[*ding!* Congratulations! [Sudden End] has reached level 105! +5 Strength, +11 Dexterity, +4 Vitality, +7 Speed from your class, +1 free stat for being human, +1 Mana from your element.]
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
[*ding!* [Dark Affinity], [Knives & War], [Blades of Darkness], and [Strengthen Blade] have reached level 105!]
[*ding!* [Critical Strike] has leveled from 90 to 92!]
It wasn’t like she had taken the job for the levels, she wearily reminded herself. Everything individually was so low in level she was somewhat surprised her classes each leveled, though she had fought so long and killed so much she was also somewhat surprised that she got so little out of the ordeal. Still, the levels weren’t the point this time.
Ranthia shifted back to her real body, gathered her belongings, and trudged wearily back up the stairs.
Her leather cloak was ruined, she wearily accepted that there was no way she could possibly get it repaired. It had been so patchwork before, but now most of the material was just… gone. Her cloak was so damaged that she was no longer even remotely decent, especially since her men’s tunic that she wore beneath it was practically destroyed. At least she had, somehow, protected her arcanite vest. Her belt was safe too, since she had been forced to leave it on the stairs since she quickly realized that there was no way to protect both it and the vest. And she had needed the vest’s arcanite.
Ranthia was in a foul mood, but she knew she wasn’t done yet.
There was no way this job had been worth it, Ranthia grumbled to herself as she trudged upstairs, more naked than not.
She had just bought those sandals!
The maid that was waiting for her had fallen asleep on a little cot in the back of the storage room, though the woman woke up when Ranthia more noisily re-opened the door from the stairs. Ranthia instructed her to find any scrap wood or metal that would be okay to destroy and get some charcoal so they could burn the pests’ remains before the smell attracted more problems.
Not that it was the worst smell down there by a large margin.
The maid, naturally, offered no actual assistance. The woman just ensured that Ranthia had some firewood, a pile of broken fragments of wood and metal, and sack filled with charcoal. Then wished her luck.
The woman refused to even look at what was down the stairs.
Which probably made her smarter than Ranthia.
Obnoxiously, Ranthia ended up deciding that the best way to handle the dead slimes was to just inhabit a mirror image and scoop them up with her hands and toss them in the sewer line, then repeat until she was forced to dismiss the mirror image when the pain got too overwhelming. Trying to scrape them up with the scrap just broke the bodies up and made a huge mess. She knew that she could probably sell the bodies to an [Alchemist], but she had no way to transport them since they even slowly dissolved the scrap metal.
…She was halfway done when she realized that she was an idiot. She had gotten pretty good at [Reflective Motility] and [Persistent Imagery] had gotten pretty high level. So, she figured…
Yup, that entire time could have just let uninhabited mirror images handle the clean-up. She was even able to get four of them working at once, so the last of the clean-up went pretty fast. Periodically one of the images would break, but it was easy enough to replace. Adding insult to injury, the process was more mana efficient than what she had been doing, with how expensive [Reflections of Reality] was.
It was great for leveling the skills too, naturally. She had serious regrets that she was almost too tired to appreciate.
[*ding!* [Reflective Motility] has leveled from 133 to level 138!]
[*ding!* [Persistent Imagery] has leveled from 101 to level 114!]
Once the slimes were dealt with, Ranthia built a pyre near an area where she felt better airflow and burnt the corpses of the dinosaurs and rats.
She lost her last shreds of respect for herself when her traitorous stomach actually freaking growled at the scent. She was still in the sewers!
At long, long last she awoke the maid again to report that the job was done. The maid finally descended the stairs far enough to see the ground beneath them was clear, which was good enough for her. The woman practically ran back upstairs and dry heaved a couple of times before she managed to recompose herself. Then, calmly, as if her façade had never failed, she led Ranthia through the back areas the employees used, then snuck her down a hall when she confirmed the coast was clear.
It just wouldn’t do to lend a guest an employee’s uniform. Apparently. So, somehow, the polite thing to do was to have Ranthia run around—mostly out of sight—mostly nude. Not that Ranthia particularly minded, so long as there were no creeps ogling her.
Then, at last, Ranthia found herself in the home she had fought for, key in hand.
…It had been worth it, she decided immediately.
She had a nice sitting room with a nice big lattice over the deep-set window for natural light. The room was fully furnished with several plush chairs, a couch, a desk, and a small table with beautifully carved seats. The room also provided her with her first proof that it was nearly dawn, ouch. Through a set of thick red curtains was the bedroom, with a dresser and a large bed that looked softer than any bed she had ever seen. Then another set of curtains—dyed blue—led to a bathroom that had an actual personal bath.
A personal heated bath, at that.
Ranthia eagerly stripped off what little she still wore. Then, while she lowered herself into the delightfully perfect water, she let out what had to be the loudest, most passionate moan of pleasure she had ever made. The relief felt so intense that she actually shuddered in bliss.
The tub even had inscriptions that kept the water blissfully warm!
Ranthia scrubbed herself clean in the tub, but immediately decided that she deserved a good soak. The tub was just too nice to get out so soon.
A short time later, the exhausted Adventurer ended up falling asleep in the tub, lulled by the warmth of the bath that soothed the heavy exhaustion that she bore.
Being woken up the next morning by a maid that assumed she was out, since no one had responded to her knocking or the call she gave when she entered, would have been embarrassing enough. But no, Ranthia’s true mortification came from being found out cold in the bathtub with her skin feeling—and looking—horrendously disgusting from being so waterlogged.
In her defense, the maid—a different one from last night—was a consummate professional. She never laughed or showed any sign of mirth or disgust. The woman helped Ranthia up, ensured that Ranthia was alright—"Yes, sorry, I was just more tired than I thought, thank you.”—and recommended a colleague who could help with how water-logged Ranthia was.
Naturally, the colleague was part of their in-house stylists and relaxation treatment team. Which was fascinating. It sounded extravagant and she was more than just happy with Hexara’s skill, but she figured that having a back-up stylist handy sounded nice. …At least until she asked how much a session with them cost.
The price the maid quoted was in rods and had plural zeroes on it.
Immediately Ranthia felt incredibly uncomfortable staying at such a place, even if she was being allowed to call it home. In an effort to shake out her nerves, Ranthia decided to engage the maid in a bit of conversation, since the woman didn’t seem to be in a hurry.
She had expected that the staff was predominantly comprised of slaves whose debts had been purchased, but she was pleased to learn that every member of the staff was a hired employee that seemed to be well compensated. Many of them were ex-slaves or those who otherwise had experience with supporting wealthy and/or important people. The style of work that the Owl’s Sanctimony—or whatever—required came naturally to them.
Ranthia was in the middle of trying to ask questions to get a sense of just how large the place was when she suddenly realized something very, very important.
…She was supposed to meet up with Hexara!
Ranthia was in an absolute panicked rush from the moment that her brain realized what day it was. Immediately, Ranthia decided that money was no object, and she requested the help of the beautician that the maid had mentioned.
A water [Mage] felt like a strange addition to a beauty and relaxation treatments team, but in short order Ranthia went from looking like she had stolen her skin off of a drowned woman to a healthy sheen that looked better than her skin ever had before.
The woman was worth the rods, and mercifully they were even able to arrange it so that Ranthia only needed to pay later for the treatment, it could wait until after she got back to the Sanctum (such a weird name, but it got repeated often enough that she was finally confident that she had it).
As soon as Ranthia was done with the [Mage], the maid that had been so nice and helpful presented her with a women’s tunic and a pair of sandals that were perfectly sized for Ranthia. They were compliments of the owner, apparently, though Ranthia somewhat suspected it was to keep her from walking around almost completely exposed a second time.
She even had to admit the tunic was better quality than any other that she owned, with its subtle blue dyed trim and elegant embroidery, even if she was never a fan of the length or constrictive design of women’s tunics. Even the sandals were superior to the pair that she lost.
Ranthia thanked the maid swiftly, but with genuine emotion, then she was off. Her belt was worn over the new tunic, with the key to her completely deserved (and completely too much) home secured in one of its pouches.
“I’m here!” Ranthia called out the instant she caught sight of Hexara.
The gorgeous woman’s face was a blend of sad and worried, which made Ranthia’s heart ache, though she was relieved that Hexara was still waiting. Ranthia was more than a little late.
But even as Hexara turned to face her, her face twisted into a strange balance of relief and annoyance.
Ranthia bowed, deeply, immediately upon arrival. It was something she had stopped doing back when she was a kid, since no one else in Remus seemed to do it. She had learned to live like she belonged, but sometimes old habits just felt the most correct in desperate situations.
“I’m so sorry! I had a job yesterday that took me almost all night to finish, then I ended up passing out hard. The downside of… um… being an Adventurer.” Ranthia finished lamely.
She had wanted to say ‘dating an Adventurer’ or ‘being with an Adventurer’ but her nerves failed her, and she failed at being quite so presumptive. She really, really hoped that’s what they were doing—the kissing they had done sure seemed to suggest it—but she felt weirdly shy. She had dated before! She was experienced and womanly, so why was she being so accursedly skittish?!
“I’m just glad you’re okay, I suppose. …And maybe a little professionally disappointed you didn’t put on those cosmetics you bought.” Hexara winked.
“Ugh, yeah that reminds me. I need more lessons from you. My attempt to put it on myself was… well, let’s just say I’m not going to be leveling [Sexy] by myself any time soon.”
Hexara laughed happily, approached, and embraced Ranthia. Ranthia wasn’t quite sure which of them initiated it, but the two shared a soft, warm kiss for a moment before Hexara pulled away.
“At least you’re still rather [Sexy] even without. I look like a mess without my cosmetics!” The beautician flirted.
“Nonsense, I’m sure you look beyond great no matter what. I can barely believe you’re the same woman that I knew back then…”
“Ha! Yeah, finally getting decent food in me helped quite a bit, plus I had [Pretty] back then and evolved it into [Sexy]—and actually got some levels in it—for my job. But you! I mean you’re what, 18 now? And now look at you!”
“Er, 16 actually.”
Ranthia had decently high vitality by most standards. Vitality enhanced one’s senses, so she didn’t miss it when Hexara winced at the reveal of her age, no matter how masterfully the woman tried to hide it. Ranthia was hurt, a little, but worse it allowed yet another worry to take root in her mind.
As if she needed more—she was already hiding from so much.
Of course, it was difficult to blame Hexara for the mistake. Ranthia was tall for a woman, she was even taller than most men these days. While she didn’t have the showy, overbuilt focused muscles of a bodybuilder, she had the lean, firm body of someone that put their whole body to use in hard circumstances often. If she was better about eating three full, healthy meals each day—like Tatius would have insisted—and hadn’t been outright underfed for the first eight years of her life she would have probably been huge, but as it was by most metrics her body was far more mature and impressive than it should have been for her age. Which she earnestly believed matched her mentality, usually.
“I hope I’m not too late for what you had planned today?” Ranthia prompted, hopeful.
“Oh, of course not! I wanted to show you some of my favorite places in town, then I figured we could do a little shopping together.” Hexara was all smiles and excitement again, as if her tick of whatever that had been had never happened.
“That would be perfect, though if it’s okay can we start with something tasty? I didn’t get to eat anything before I rushed over. I might need to stop by the temple to restock my funds before we go shopping, I think I only have a handful of coins left after everything.”
Hexara and Ranthia shared a surprisingly delicious dish that was made from eggs and cream in a pastry shell at a bakery that Hexara fervently recommended. Even their cakes and other sweet treats looked amazing enough to tempt even Ranthia’s dubious sweet tooth. Not that she expected them to taste as good as they looked. Sweets all too often just were overpoweringly sweet with little actual flavor. They were still magnificent looking though.
That done, they then visited the temple where Ranthia picked up as many rods and coins as she could comfortably fit on her person. Fortunately, her vault was still healthily filled, though she really did need to organize it better someday. Even more fortunately, she managed to get in and out without getting arrested, for the first time!
Someday she needed to try her luck with the actual temple part; she hadn’t yet prayed to Xaoc at his altar in Ariminum, and it was starting to weigh on her conscience.
Ranthia had mixed feelings about the first play that she ever watched. The story was interesting and the actors—and solitary actress—seemed skilled, at least to her untrained eye. But just sitting there while she watched other people’s drama unfold, fictional or not, left her unfulfilled and feeling awkward. Still, she could easily tolerate it for Hexara, who seemed entranced by the performance, even if she doubted that she’d ever attend such a thing by herself.
The water garden was much nicer. The whole thing was a work of art made out of carved stone with carefully maintained flowers and other plants thoughtfully positioned throughout. The real beauty came from the water that flowed all around them, fed by its own little aqueduct. It was peaceful and beautiful. And with the sound of the water, even the other people around—mostly other couples enjoying time together—seemed quiet and unobtrusive.
Plus, they got to share more kisses while they sat and enjoyed the scenery, which made it even better. Especially since it proved to Ranthia that Hexara was still willing to kiss her.
Of course, Remus had to indulge in blood sports. Ranthia glared spitefully at the colosseum when they passed it. Hexara wanted to show her the sights, but she could have lived without that one.
Her entire life—and the lives of so many other men and women—was a desperate and bloody struggle to survive. And yet there was a stupid business turning it into a game for the enjoyment of wealthy, feckless idiots that lacked a single moral amongst them all.
She’d never set foot in there.
Tea and snacks came next. The little outdoor café was charming. But, in Ranthia’s eyes, it had two major flaws. First and foremost, the place was crowded. They had to wait for a while to be seated and it made the service so slow and everything oh so noisy. Worse, with the crowds, Hexara demurred on the offer of physical affection to pass the time. Second, Ranthia just could not get into tea. She liked her beverages room temperature or water chilled. If she was going to consume a hot liquid, why not sip a small serving of soup for some nutrients and bolder flavors?
Still, she made an effort for Hexara’s sake. Even if she guessed the flavors in the beverage completely inaccurately, much to Hexara’s bemusement. Why were they so subtle? Subtle was not something Ranthia excelled at in any capacity!
Shopping was much more fun. So many odd items and little shops or market stalls were in Ariminum. The capital had the population to support frivolity or efforts to get odd ideas off the ground, and by Xaoc every merchant seemed to have realized as much. Ranthia and Hexara had a ton of fun just browsing, trying on odd-looking hats, and generally entertaining one another.
Best of all, the flirting had started back up! Little compliments turned bolder and bolder as the women enjoyed their time together.
Then they actually ended up in the same shop Ranthia had found the other day, in front of the garment that Ranthia had been so taken with.
“Oh goddess, that would be insanely perfect on you. It’s like… who’s your patron deity again? Oh right, it’s like Xaoc put it in your path for you.” Hexara whispered.
“Ugh, I know, it’s exquisite and amazing and soooo pricey.” Ranthia whispered back.
“You said you could afford it, why not splurge? For the quality, the price actually is pretty reasonable. I bet this was a custom order that some rich idiot never picked up, so it’s kind of a great deal if you ask me.”
“Ugh, you’re right. But…”
“I would love to see you in it.”
Ranthia’s willpower teetered…
“And I’d love to take it off of you too.” Hexara added in a huskier, quieter whisper.
Ranthia blinked three times.
“…Okay. Let’s do this!” Ranthia announced, her cheeks stained red.
Ranthia approached the counter. The owners looked down their noses at her.
“I’ll be trying on the outfit I and my… friend were looking at.” Utter cowardice seized Ranthia again.
“Ahem, we don’t allow non-customers to just try things on.” The man replied.
Ranthia smiled, smugly, and began to stack rods on the counter until she had placed down the full price of the garment. The duo’s eyes grew larger and larger throughout the process, possibly in part due to shock at how she had managed to carry so many rods.
“I just want to ensure that it fits and needs no alterations. Once I’ve tried it on and any alterations are done, would it be possible to get it delivered to my unit at the Owl’s Sanctum?”
“Ah-er, of course my lady! The wife will show you to the back area if your companion will wait here?”
Ranthia had never seen such a mad scramble to get back into her good graces and she had to admit, it was a fun little side benefit to buying the expensive piece of cloth.
It didn’t take long for Ranthia to decide that she was wrong. The gorgeous garment was its own reward; the side benefits meant nothing. It fit her perfectly. It looked and felt amazing. And she loved how Hexara barely seemed able to keep her hands to herself when Ranthia came out wearing it.
Best flagrant waste of money ever!
Ranthia changed back into her tunic and let the owners handle getting the lovely garment packed up and sent to her new home. She flatly refused to expose such a work of art to the harsh conditions of the streets. She felt that she would have deserved to be arrested for committing such a heinous crime against such beauty.
After that she and Hexara linked arms and left the store, heads held high. Almost the very moment that they were out of the store they promptly dissolved into giggles over how the owners had almost tripped over themselves trying to appease and flatter them both. They had even been shown a number of other outfits whose prices seemed to shed rods moment to moment. They had held firm though and resisted the lesser temptation the other garments offered.
One moment they were giggling and laughing. The next, Ranthia abruptly yanked her arm out of Hexara’s and lashed out in a desperate grab.
The thief that had snatched Hexara’s coin purse dodged her grab with ease, then tried to run.
Only to find Ranthia in front of him. And then, when he hurriedly turned, there she was at his side. He spun in place, but she had surrounded him with mirror images that all closed in.
“Return my girlfriend’s purse and apologize.” Ranthia ordered, glaring at the kid.
The kid grumbled something nasty and dropped the purse, then fled while Ranthia picked it up.
The brat had cut the strings, and it would need new ones. Ranthia held it up to Hexara glumly.
“Sorry, the kid was sneaky, and I noticed him only when he started cutting the strings. I’ll pay for its repairs.”
Hexara was just staring at her in shock.
“I know, I know; as an Adventurer of my rank, I should have seen him coming. But he was good!” Ranthia protested.
“There are five of you!” Hexara squealed.
“…Oh, that. Uh, yeah, meet my main class?”
Ranthia lost the rest of the date to showing off some of the tricks that she could pull with her [Shards of Reflection] class. Though Hexara did ask a few questions that got her wondering. Maybe it really was about time to really put in some directed effort to see exactly what she could and couldn’t do. The whole thing with disposing of the dead slimes had taught her that she had underestimated what she could do these days.
Also, she was mortified to learn that Hexara had only had her decoy purse stolen, a pouch that just had some junk in it that made it feel like it had coins in it. Her real coin purse had been inside her tunic the whole time, without Ranthia even noticing. Apparently, that’s what most people that lived in Ariminum did to counter the heavy presence of skilled thieves.
Her big heroic moment was a total waste!
When they returned to Hexara’s home after the sun had set, they kissed for a good while.
“So… are you going to invite me in?” Ranthia finally asked, nervously, after they broke apart for air.
Hexara laughed and shook her head.
Ranthia’s hopes crashed and her worries returned to the forefront, which clearly showed on her face, because Hexara laughed again and reached up to cup her cheek.
“If I did, what would I use to tempt you into a second date? Next time, hun.” Hexara teased.
A final kiss and Ranthia was alone.
But she was happy. Her mood was bubbly enough that she actually skipped the entire way back to the tavern she had been staying at and retrieved her few belongings that were still there, then made her way back to her new—still scary—home.
Maybe Ariminum wasn’t so bad after all.