They continued through and along the stupid, annoying streets.

There were cobblestones and shit.

Also people were obviously trying to overthrow the kingdom's rulers.

Boring.

Not even worth mentioning.

They were all too weak.

Obviously none of the Char heroes were here or…

Eh.

The ones she'd met weren't that strong.

The city was boring, even when it should have been at its most interesting.

She was vaguely surprised she hadn't seen more elves.

They were here somewhere.

Probably.

There was one in particular here she knew, though they'd never really met.

The thought made her grimace again.

She needed to think about something else. "You said you weren't even here for half a day last time?"

"Yeah, why?"

"But you met Mina here?"

"Yeah?"

"Weird coincidence. Meet a lot of princesses?"

"Nope, just her so far. Unless you're gonna tell me that you're a princess too?"

"Yeah, my blood's really fucking royal, Carl. She decide to follow you around just for fun?"

"Not…exactly. I sort of incidentally rescued her from some stuff here, and it was while she was dealing with some other stuff, so we kinda bonded."

"Stuff?"

"Well, there were a couple guys involved, and it's… Makes me mad just thinking about it, honestly."

"I can see that."

"Actually…what do you think about teaching some kid a fucking lesson while we're here?"

"Could be fun."

"He hurt Mina. If I see him…"

"Might be getting more interested. What's he look like?"

"Uh… Really pale. Brown hair. Clean shaven. Fancy clothes. About this tall. Twentyish. Was with an elf with long, brown hair last time I saw him."

"Him?"

"No, this kid was thin."

"Okay. What about him?"

"Nope."

"Him?"

"Got a feeling we're not gonna see him without that elf. Might be easier to watch for her."

"Mm. Haven't seen any of those yet."

"Ugh, I forgot how freaking annoying this city is. Way too big. Roads all stupidly arranged. Too much poop."

"Weren't you just saying you liked this city better?"

"Maybe I was wrong. Where the heck even are we?"

"No idea. We're going the right way though."

"How do you know?"

"I checked."

"How?"

"I went to Ingrid's, obviously."

"What? When?"

"Just now."

"What? When?"

"Like I said, just now."

"No, I mean, we've been walking along here, and you've been here with me the whole time."

"I thought you said you knew."

"Knew what?"

"Urgh, Carl, you're really fucking frustrating sometimes."

"What? Me? You're the one who just said—"

"Just trust me, we're almost there."

"So now I've just gotta shut up and be a good side character, huh?"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Are you sulking?"

"Nope."

"Carl."

"What?"

"Stop being so fucking frustrating. Let's go back to normal, okay?"

"Alright, that was kinda childish of me. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it."

"Why are we even walking there? Can't you just teleport us?"

"You in a rush?"

"You always ask that. What if Mina needs me?"

"˙dǝǝlsɐ llᴉʇs sᴉ ǝɹnsɐǝɹʇ ɐuᴉW ɹnO"

"Uh…"

"Why does it always talk like that?"

"—ʎǝɥʇ 'sʇdɯǝʇʇɐ ǝuo ʎʇuǝʍʇ ɹǝʇɟ∀ ˙ɹoʇɔᴉʌ ǝɥʇ oʇ ƃuᴉoƃ ǝɹnsɐǝɹʇ ʎɯ ɥʇᴉʍ 'ǝɯ ɥsnɹɔ oʇ ƃuᴉʇdɯǝʇʇɐ suɹnʇ ʞooʇ puɐ sɹǝqɯnu ʇɐǝɹƃ uᴉ uoǝƃunp ʎɯ ɟo ʇɹɐǝɥ ǝɥʇ pǝɥɔɐǝɹ ʎǝɥꓕ ˙oƃɐ sɹɐǝʎ pǝɹpunɥ xᴉs sɹǝpnɹʇuᴉ ʎq pǝƃɐɯɐp sɐʍ I"

"That's really fucking depressing. How were they so weak they couldn't destroy you if they got all the way there?"

"˙uoǝƃunp ɐ ƃuᴉʇɔnɹʇsuoɔ ɟo sʎɐʍ ǝɥʇ uᴉ ǝsᴉʍ ʇou sɐʍ ǝɯᴉʇ ǝɥʇ ʇɐ ɹǝʇsɐɯ uoǝƃunp ʎW"

"Ooh, you hear that Carl? This dungeon core had an idiot creating its dungeon before you."

"Ugh, this is kinda depressing. And lore-related. Oh, is that—"

"Yeah, we finally made it."

"Huh, feels like it was a lot faster coming here with you than when I was by myself."

"Obviously you're gonna be faster when you're with the main character, Carl."

"Alright, let's not take that too far."

Volcatia chuckled. She was walking a guy across the continent to retrieve a pair of boots.

It was ridiculous to even imagine.

Or it would have been before she'd had a friend again.

"Hopefully this doesn't take too long," Carl said as he reached the door. He turned the knob and pulled it open, holding it for her.

Having a door held open for her was a weird feeling.

Was there a point to it?

She could just walk through the door like she usually did.

She'd seen it done before though.

Maybe this was also a friend thing?

She extinguished her presence.

The shop was exactly as her vague memories recalled.

A few shelves.

Some shoes.

A chair that she'd broken the arms off years ago out of annoyance.

"Morning, something," called a deep voice.

"Um, hi, I'd…" Carl coughed a few times. "I've come to pick up the boots I ordered," he said in a different, weird voice.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Volcatia rubbed her forehead.

Fucking Carl.

What the fuck was he doing now?

She decided to look at some shoes while he did whatever he was doing.

All he had to do was get the fucking boots so they could…

They didn't really have anything else to do, she supposed.

"Oh, you," said Ingrid.

Volcatia picked up a delicate-looking heeled shoe and inspected it.

Mm.

This was an okay shoe.

She could imagine the precise effect it would have on the leg of someone who wore it.

It wasn't amazing.

"Yes," Carl said again in his weird, not-Carl voice. "Eight days have passed, and so I am here."

"You look something something something last time I something something," Ingrid said.

Volcatia wondered how he did it. He was obviously speaking Stadalite, but Ingrid seemed to also be able to understand him. And he could understand her too, from the sound of it.

Carl could understand more than one language?!

She wasn't sure she believed that.

"I've traveled far to—"

"Carl, just fucking talk normally," Volcatia interrupted.

She had to stop him from being so Carl once in a while.

Carl sighed from behind her. "C'mon, I was just getting into it."

"Got your something something something something something something leg something something," Ingrid said. The sound of a door opening accompanied her Char babbling, and Volcatia glanced back in time to see her carrying out a pair of black boots.

Her Leg Sense instantly activated and revealed to her the exact effect that the boots would have on the legs of a person who wore them.

They were very good boots.

"Really?" Carl said, seeming confused. "Shouldn't I wash my feet or someth—"

"Sit," Ingrid said in a commanding tone.

Volcatia picked up another pair of black, heeled shoes from a different shelf.

These shoes…

She put them down quickly as a fantasy of a particular pair of dark-skinned legs ending in these exact shoes walked across her mind.

It didn't help.

Her breathing quickened.

She swallowed.

She…

Fine.

She'd buy them.

Just in case.

"Carl, I'll berightback," she said quickly, feeling her excitement peak.

The fucking fantasy wouldn't go away!

She moved into the bank in Charus City she'd used so many years earlier and rushed up to the counter. "Coin exchange," she said in the Char language.

The suited man standing there said something ending in "Okay", and she hesitated.

How much would shoes like those cost?

She had to have them.

She'd probably never see those legs again, but…

Volcatia began grabbing small sacks of thousand-marks out of her Inventory. There was going to be some kind of exchange calculation involved.

She hated calculating.

Luckily, she had a skill for that now.

She pulled out five sacks and set them on the counter. "Fifty thousand marks," she said while pointing at it.

The last time she'd been here, she got two coins for every mark.

The man's eyebrows raised. He started opening the sacks and counting out the thousand-marks.

It was ten per sack, so he finished quickly. He gave her a slightly stunned look.

"Deposit. Ingrid," she said, hoping the man would catch her meaning.

The relieved change in his expression showed that he did. He nodded with a smile showing.

Good.

"Eighty thousand coins," he said.

She scowled.

Eighty thousand?!

She crackled.

Just like the last time.

People thought she was stupid because she couldn't fully speak the language.

Tedious.

She might not be smart, but she was far from stupid.

"Try again," she said as the room flared with blue light.

Another, older man in a suit dashed over to the one in front of her and slapped him across his whitening face. The first man stumbled to the side, and the older man took his place.

"Fifty thousand marks. Deposit Ingrid."

The older man immediately took out a sheet of paper and began writing in pen. "One hundred twenty six thousand," he said as his hand worked the pen across the paper.

A little over two and a half coins per mark?

That seemed more accurate.

She looked closer.

Yeah, she almost recognized the older man.

Or maybe not.

He stamped the paper then passed it over to her. It had the right numbers on it along with Ingrid's name, which she'd just seen over the shop.

Perfect.

She inclined her head slightly to the old man, then moved back to the shoemaker's shop, relaxing at the same time.

"—So comfortable!" Carl exclaimed. His feet were now wearing his boots, and her Leg Sense confirmed her earlier predictions had been accurate. He looked up from them and noticed her. "Vol, you didn't tell me they could clean my feet while I wore 'em!"

"Yeah, they clean and fuck your feet," Volcatia said. She walked over to Ingrid, who was standing to the side looking on approvingly while Carl walked around in his new boots. "Shoes," she said, pointing to the pair she had to have and holding up the paper.

Ingrid looked at her, then looked down at her feet. She looked back up and grinned. "You again," she said.

"Yes," Volcatia said, nodding eagerly. "Shoes?" She pointed again.

She really needed these fucking shoes.

Even if there was only a tiny chance that she'd ever see Egrata again…

"What something something here," said Ingrid. She took the paper and read it over.

Volcatia waited while her pulse thundered away.

Ingrid shrugged. "Okay. Grab something something something something something."

"Carl, what's she saying?" Volcatia demanded.

"What? Uh… She said you can take those and another pair if you see any you like."

Ingrid started talking again, gesturing at the shoes on Volcatia's feet.

"Er, now she's saying she didn't expect you to really wear your shoes, she thought you just wanted them for showing off?"

Volcatia was still caught on the woman's first statement.

She could get a second pair of shoes?!

She took a breath.

This was getting bad.

She needed to calm down.

She couldn't though.

This was almost as bad as when she'd discovered stockings.

She dashed over to the first pair she'd needed and tossed them into her Inventory. The act brought with it a deep feeling of relief.

She hadn't realized how much she needed those shoes. The knowledge of the effect they would have on a certain pair of legs had stripped her mind of most thoughts.

Such as asking how much the shoes would cost before wildly throwing money away.

But that was fine.

It was just money.

She could relax a little now.

Yeah.

Relax.

She took another breath.

It was okay.

She had the shoes.

She put all thoughts of them and archmage Egrata's…

She put all those thoughts away.

Very away.

Right now.

Now.

Really this time.

Volcatia nodded to herself.

"You, uh… You okay, Vol?" Carl called.

Ingrid muttered something using a lot of unknown words.

"Carl, I need you to tell Ingrid something for me, okay?"

"Sure?"

Volcatia turned to face the older woman. "Ingrid, you make the best shoes and boots on the whole fucking continent. I'm really grateful that you made my shoes."

Carl gave her an odd look as he repeated what she'd said, noticeably omitting a certain word.

It was a very Carl thing to do.

Ingrid looked at her suspiciously.

"Not sure I've ever heard you thank anyone before," Carl said.

Was that true?

Volcatia thought about it.

Fuck, she'd been forgetting to do it.

Thanking people was part of being human too.

If only she wasn't so fucking bad at being human now!

She spotted a pair of worker's boots after being alerted by her Leg Sense.

Yeah, these would fit a certain man just right, wouldn't they.

If she ever saw him again.

She probably wouldn't though.

She'd have gotten him heeled shoes too, but men never seemed to want to wear them no matter how amazing their legs would look.

It was the same with stockings.

Frustrating.

She held the boots up and turned back to Ingrid with a grin. "These too," she said before tossing them into her Inventory.

What a day.

What an amazing day.

Ingrid said something else that she didn't bother trying to listen to now that she had Carl to translate.

Now that she thought about it though…

Was there a skill that could translate for her?

She'd check later.

Maybe.

Being able to speak and understand every language didn't seem like something a human would be able to do.

Then again, maybe Carl had a skill like that?

"She says she's never seen someone so happy to get shoes," Carl said. He took another few steps. "Wow, wish I had a pair of these at home," he muttered.

"Tell her, uh…" Volcatia paused. "I don't know, tell her anyone should be this happy to get shoes like these?"

She hadn't even looked at the other shoes last time she was here.

She'd been so selfish!

Maybe…

If she got Salonina a pair of shoes here, would she wear them?

The idea of it made her shudder.

Nah, she probably wouldn't.

They didn't have that type of relationship anyway.

But still, it was a great fucking fantasy.

"She says, uh, thanks for the compliment," Carl said.

His words broke her out of reliving the feel of smooth, absurdly well-muscled thighs against her cheeks.

Compliment.

Right.

Volcatia needed to take control of herself.

This shop was too dangerous.

"I'm gonna wait outside," she said quickly before dashing outside.

She took a deep breath.

She'd never realized how dangerous a shop like that could be.

What if she'd had all those shoes through the years?

How much more amazing could some legs have been if they'd been joined with shoes and boots like…

She had to stop!

She closed her eyes and changed her thoughts randomly.

What if she had Egrata wear the shoes she'd just bought and stockings?

Or Sylmare?

Volcatia whimpered as she imagined the elf's pale skin contrasted against the darkness of the heeled shoe and matching stockings.

That slightly more plump part of the thigh just where the stocking would end.

Her excitement had risen too far.

Coming along for this was a bad idea.

She opened her eyes again and tried to focus on something else.

Anything else.

A fat woman with a frightened expression who was accompanied by a young, smiling elf man sitting next to her drove a car past, pursued by a band of shouting people.

She could focus on…

The woman had bad legs.

She could sense it.

She knew it.

Urgh, disgusting.

Volcatia grimaced.

She tried to clear her thoughts, but the saggy, flabby feeling of what the woman's calves must be like assailed her whirling mind relentlessly.

She swallowed against the sudden churning of her stomach.

Usually she wouldn't be affected by something like this, but her defenses had been lowered already by her frenzy in the shop and related fantasies.

She had to…

Her Leg Sense brought her the definite knowledge of the drooping flaps of the woman's fatty thighs, and the feel of it lashed out and struck a powerful blow.

Volcatia bent over and retched.