You know, Irene was supposed to cook something for me.

Me beating her at our little swordfight had kind of meant that. Plus, I had been looking forward to meeting her family, you know?

But she got really evasive when I asked her if we were going back to her place to eat something. She said that she was too tired to cook after a long day at work.

And don’t get me wrong – I get it.

But still… you know, at least some effort…

Whatever.

Let's not push it.

I would have loved to sample her cuisine instead of some random restaurant, I think to myself as I walk Southeast of the Pratus. She told me there’s a very nice restaurant, away from all the mess of the Pratus.

As I walk down the street, I notice the buildings on either side are mostly made of marble—right, Amorium overflows with these buildings. My condo doesn’t have much of it, though.

The intricate patterns and elegant designs sculpted into the marble give this part of the neighborhood a sense of grandeur. The sun reflects off the polished stone, making everything brighter.

After a short walk, I spot Irene ahead in a simple, light green dress.

She's quite tan for someone working as a [Baker], and that means her skin color really pops in combination with that dress in the best way possible. And the dress, let me say, is quite tight. It accentuates her natural, lithe form. Her hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail with a few strands framing her face—she's so naturally elegant, I swear.

I’ve never thought I’d like Elves so much, I smile to myself.

“Irene!” I shout and wave my hand.

She turns and rolls her eyes.

“Don’t shout,” she says, walking up to me.

“Why not? You have a beautiful name. Let everyone know.”

She gives me a smirk and shakes her head. “Humans. Anyway, that’s the place I was talking about,” she points at the restaurant. It doesn't escape me that she throws a few looks around as if to check if anyone is paying attention to us.

Right. I'm a Human.

“What’s the name again?” I ask.

“Greener. They select fresh produce every day, and all their meats are slaughtered within a few days of serving.”

“Nice. Do you go there often?”

“No, I just thought you would like it. I don’t usually waste all that money on food. I eat at the bakery when I can. Or at home. It depends.”

Hm.

My first impression is that the moat I’ve felt after our kiss might have risen even higher. Well, that’ll make a mountain climber out of me, I suppose.

“Shall we?” She asks.

“Absolutely.”

…

“Two?” A [Waiter] asks.

The entrance is framed by ivy and other plants, weaving intricate patterns atop the marble walls.

“Yes, please,” Irene nods.

The [Waiter] is dressed in some rather bright colors. He smiles kindly at Irene, but when he looks at me, a frown goes through his eyes.

“A Human?” He asks, looking back at Irene.

Right, racism.

“Is there a problem?” Her voice grows cold.

The [Waiter] looks back and forth between us before raising a hand.

“Give me a second; I have to speak to the owner.”

He doesn’t even glance back and enters the restaurant, going straight for a door toward the back.

“Joey, I’m really sorry,” Irene pleads with me. "If you want to go…"

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Man, this is not going well.

“Don’t worry. I’ve gotten worse around here. If they don’t want to let us in, I live close by. We can just go back to my place, and I’ll whip something up for you. But I’ll have to swing by the market – my pantry is not looking good at the moment.”

“Milady, you can both come,” the [Waiter] suddenly reappears and gestures at the entrance.

Irene gives me a cursory glance before mouthing another ‘sorry’ and delving into the restaurant.

I’m not too bothered by some basic racism. I mean, the guy just went to check if Humans were allowed, right? Why should one make a fuss about it?

I cringe a little as I walk to our table.

Did Irene pick a place she didn’t know because of the fancier food or because she was afraid someone would recognize her with me? Mh. But then, it wouldn’t make sense to go out for lunch when she could have been the one cooking, right? And she’d have had a stronger reaction to me coming to bother her at the Three Roses.

“Your table, Miss,” the [Waiter] shows us a nice table close to the wall and nods at us, leaving behind two leather-bound menus.

“Are you ok?” Irene asks me.

“All good, all good. Stuff like this happens from time to time. There’s no reason to make a big deal out of it.”

“Are you sure? If you are uncomfortable, we can just go.”

I look at the beautiful woman in front of me and smile.

“Nah. It’s fine, really. Let’s just enjoy our lunch,” I say, picking up the menu. “What do you recommend?”

“Let’s see,” she starts reading the menu as well.

I’m distracted by her dark eyes going over the options. Her forehead creases, and her mouth twists to the side, for the most part, unsatisfied. Then, she raises her eyebrows, surprised.

“Anything good?” I ask.

“There’s the Ethereal Cattle roast. It’s extravagant.”

“Oh, I’ve heard that name before, I think,” I say.

Irene shakes her head and raises her eyes to meet mine. “Ethereal Cattle are magical cows, Joey. They can become invisible once they are mature enough. Their meat is very tender.”

“Let’s order two, then.”

“Joey,” Irene frowns. “Have you missed the part where I said it’s extravagant? It’s a noble’s meal. And not an everyday noble's meal.”

“Let me spoil you, just for today.”

“Are you trying to buy me?” Irene raises an eyebrow.

“Me? I would never. But if you have a price, let me know. Just out of pure curiosity, I swear.”

Irene clicks her tongue and then sighs.

“Let’s try it, then,” she raises a hand, and the [Waiter] comes speeding.

“How can I help?”

“We would like two servings of the Ethereal Cattle roast with lidulae, green onions, and some potatoes on the side.”

“Excellent choice,” he says to Irene, basically refusing to look at me. “Would you like to follow it with one of our vintages? We have some of the best wines, sourced directly in the Green Stretches.”

“We’ll take your recommendation,” Irene says. “Please, don’t fleece us.”

The [Waiter] laughs heartily and nods. “I’ll take care of you, Miss, don’t worry.”

He takes back our menus and zips back to the kitchen.

There's a bit of an elephant in the room. She didn't really leave on the best terms the last time we saw each other. I need to see what can be done here.

“So, now that our food is ordered, what’s up? You look tremendous in that dress. Also, love the ponytail situation you've got going on.”

“I got some sleep after work,” she says, pointing at the hair, “this is the best I could do.”

She looks down at the table, observing the shiny cutlery on it.

Oof.

Still feeling that moat.

Or maybe it’s a fifty-ton elephant.

“You know, this place looks lovely. But don’t feel obligated to go to fancy places with me. I’m good with the simple stuff.”

“Are you?” Irene gives me a somewhat sad look.

Yo, what the hell is happening?

“Always,” I wink. “Fancy food is for douchebags. My family comes from a place where the culinary tradition is all about making food simple. Few ingredients but good ones. Elaborate dish compositions are nice to look at, but they don’t really fill your stomach. I prefer simpler but filling food.”

“Is this a metaphor in which you compare me to simple food, Joey?” Irene frowns at me.

I reply with a strained smile.

“Sorry,” Irene waves her hand. “I’m a bit nervous. I—I am not sure about this.”

“About us?”

“About all of this,” she says, putting her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her hands.

Christ. Is she going to dump me even before we start anything? Really?

You know what the real problem is? If she has already made up her mind, then that’s it. Once a woman decides to dump you or stay with you, there’s basically no way to change her mind in the short term. And I’ll be very honest; I don’t see myself madly chasing Irene throughout all of Amorium.

She’s nice, and she looks like the perfect wife, but I don’t know much about her so far. I was hoping we could have some dates and get to know each other a little better. Sure, if any intercourse took place, I wouldn’t complain either.

But I’m not ready to drink poison over this, if you catch my drift.

“Tell me about all of this,” I say.

Irene bites her lips and scrunches her nose. “Really? Nothing bothers you? What do you think about what just happened here? Do you actually plan to live your life in Amorium, Joey? Because I’ve told you, I am. I can’t move from here.”

I’d be really curious about why you can’t, milady. But I’m afraid that if I ask, you might react very poorly, I think to myself.

“I had a sparring session with a guy who’s pretty dangerous with a sword the other day, and I put him to sleep with some magic. As long as people don’t randomly assault me in a restaurant, I’m good.”

“But how are you planning on living here? What about ten years from now? How do you think you’ll fare? And what if you have children? Do you know what they’ll have to go through? What if someone wanted to hurt them, Joey?”

Well, I wasn’t expecting Irene to drop the ‘children’ argument on our second date, but again, I suppose this is not NYC. Children are most likely par for the course for every woman in here. No girlbossing in the Middle Ages.

“What do nobles do with their children? I’m sure that if your family is filthy rich, you attract the same unwanted attention.”

Irene seems taken aback by my answer. “I suppose they assign them [Guards].”

“My children will have [Guards] then. I do,” I say. “I’ve asked the fellows to walk behind me and out of sight when they can. But they are out there, you know? I can shout, and they’ll come running. Plus, I can defend myself. And I’ll get even better with time.”

We fall into a somewhat awkward silence, and the [Waiter] reappears with a bottle of wine in his hand. He might be racist, sure, but this is great timing, I’ll admit.

I barely listen to the explanation of whatever this wine is. Honestly, I couldn’t give a damn right now.

All I care about is the fact that this date isn’t going how I would have imagined it.