(Dylan)

Surprisingly, Nathan was the only one to raise a hand. Urvana seemed relieved that Dylan’s hands stayed firmly on the desk.

“Yes?” Urvana turned her full attention to the physician.

“Charles went to great lengths to escort, care for, and protect Dylan. He clothed, fed, and sheltered him, eventually getting him registered with the League. Without Charles, Dylan wouldn’t have his refugee status. I picked up Dylan’s contract myself and appreciate everything Charles has done for him.”

“Yesterday, someone attacked Dylan, gravely injuring him, and Charles went out to make sure it wouldn’t happen again. Later that night, Dylan was on the brink of death without a specific medical intervention, and only Charles could retrieve it in time.

“He did exactly as I asked: get to my office, retrieve the medicine, and return as fast as possible. If Charles had been even a couple of minutes slower, Dylan wouldn’t be here.

“Another mender exhausted themselves keeping Dylan alive while we waited, and we burned through several potions in the process.”

Urvana narrowed her eyes at Nathan. “So, we’re back to you two being the instigators of all this?” She pointed between him and Dylan.

“How long has Dylan been in your care?” Her voice was sharp.

“Since yesterday,” Nathan said.

“In one day, this poor man nearly died—twice?” Urvana’s eyebrows shot up, her disbelief plain.

Nathan winced, his eyes closing as he nodded.

Urvana turned her gaze toward Dylan, her frustration mounting. “Why are you wearing soiled clothes?”

Dylan flinched, knowing this was his fault. “These are all I have. I was—” Urvana raised a hand, cutting him off mid-sentence. He shrank back, his face reddening as he glanced nervously at Nathan.

“No other clothes to his name?” She glared at Nathan. His black eyes shimmered with disappointment, the weight of the situation pressing down on him.

“I have the report on his attempted murder from Charles…” Urvana shook her head, exhaling sharply, as if finding her own words unbelievable. “I’m already regretting this next question, but… what did you need Charles’ urgent, lifesaving intervention for?”

Nathan’s gaze dropped as he rubbed the back of his neck. He bit his lip, clearly struggling. “Food poisoning…”

“Food poisoning?” Urvana repeated slowly, her voice thick with disbelief. “Food poisoning is an intimate night with the restroom. It shouldn’t require multiple menders, half a dozen broken laws, and a small fortune in potions.”

Dylan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His heart sank as he watched Charles’ trial evolve into something more.

“This is the first refugee contract I’ve come across here in Dartmouth, but I’m familiar with the general requirements,” Urvana continued. “And you’ve admitted that this man’s basic needs aren’t being met. You have until the end of today to feed, clothe, shelter, and ensure his physical security.”

Urvana raised a finger, pinning Nathan with a stern look. “And you do not want to find out what happens if we reach the ‘or else’ part.” She sounded angrier with Nathan than she’d been with Charles.

“Yes, of course, Judge Urvana.”

Urvana brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “Charles, I’m going to take the next hour to calm down, confer with the League of Adventurers, and decide on your sentencing. We’ll resume when I return.” The gnomish judge stepped down from the bench, her steps quick and purposeful as she marched out of the room.

The door clicked shut behind her, and Dylan let out a long, shaky breath, the tension in his chest easing. He turned to Charles, his voice hesitant. “So… did you really kill two people?”

Charles shrugged, his expression unreadable. “They attacked you in the middle of a crowded market, putting your life—and everyone else’s—at risk. They wouldn’t have stopped until you were dead, and it was within my power to make sure they never hurt you or anyone else again.”

“Were they the ones from the road?” Dylan asked.

Charles nodded.

The mention of the road jogged Dylan’s memory, and he suddenly recalled the treehouse—and how he’d burned it down. His stomach twisted in guilt as he shifted in his seat again. He took a deep breath. “I’m really sorry that I burned down all your stuff. And… sorry I didn’t apologize earlier at dinner.”

Charles crossed his arms and gave Dylan a sidelong glance. “I warned you about the candle. And don’t worry—everything’s fine.”

Dylan furrowed his brow. “But… I thought your treehouse went up in flames?”

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Charles gave a quick nod. “It did. But it’s a storage ability—it protects everything inside. You couldn’t break anything in storage unless you actually got into the storage room, which is why I keep it locked. So, all my things are fine.”

Finally, some good news. Dylan grinned. “Wait, so you still have clothes I can buy?”

Charles sat up, his expression barely shifting, though a slight furrow creased his brow. “You want to buy my clothes?”

“When you’ve had the best, you don’t want the rest.” Dylan paused, blinking as the unintended slogan hit him. “Someone should write that down. It’s catchy.”

Charles gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “As long as I’ve got access to my treehouse, I can set you up with some clothes.”

“Good,” Dylan said with a nod. “Because I’m pretty sure Urvana said I need a wardrobe by tonight—or Nathan’s going to jail.”

Dylan glanced over at Nathan, who hadn’t spoken a word since Urvana tore into him. “You know none of this was your fault, right?”

Nathan blinked, his shoulders slumped, and his eyes still black with the weight of Urvana’s words. But Dylan’s insistence cracked the wall of self-hate he’d built. “No, Judge Urvana’s right. This is all my fault. I’ve failed—”

“Wrong.” Dylan refused to let Nathan blame himself for things that weren’t in his control—a bad habit he knew all too well.

The prismatic elf stared at Dylan, his black eyes flickering with uncertainty. He didn’t agree aloud, but the tension in his posture softened—just a little.

Dylan rested a hand on Nathan’s shoulder. “You kept me alive—twice, by my count. I’m not sure anyone else could’ve pulled that off in your shoes.” He leaned in, his voice low. “You gave me control over my own choices.” Agency was a powerful thing.

He turned to Charles with a smile. “And now I’m going to have the best threads League credits can buy, and…” Dylan paused, the weight of his words settling over him. “I finally feel safe.”

“Safe?” Charles and Nathan said in unison, their voices a mix of disbelief and curiosity.

Dylan nodded, staring straight ahead. “I’m on a dangerous planet with magic, people, creatures, plants—and apparently food—all trying to kill me. Life’s never gone easy on me and that’s probably not going to change. But I’ve got friends. Really good friends.”

Charles tilted his head, a slight furrow forming on his brow. “Friends?” he echoed, as if trying the word on for size.

“Charles.” Dylan turned to him. “You killed two people to protect me and are probably going to prison for it. And Nathan”—he shifted to face him directly—“you saved me from dying twice and never once made fun of me for pooping in your office.”

Charles leaned in slightly. “You did what in his office?”

Dylan waved off the question. “That’s not important. My point is, back on Earth, I had trouble finding anyone to write me a letter of recommendation. Sure, the dragon and wolf people here still scare the shit out of me, but I feel seen—like I matter…” His voice softened as he paused, realizing he didn’t have the words to express just how much that meant to him.

“I’ve got a healer and one really scary tailor looking out for me. So yeah.” Dylan nodded. “I feel safe.”

“You and I are…” Charles pointed to himself, then to Dylan, his movements slow and deliberate. “Friends?”

Dylan gave Charles a concerned look. “Who hurt you?”

Charles’ gaze drifted as he considered Dylan’s question. For a moment, Dylan thought the rugged elf might unburden himself, sharing a glimpse of his past. But as the seconds stretched on, Charles shook his head, brushing the thoughts away.

Nathan’s eyes returned to their usual placid blue, though a trace of weariness lingered beneath. “That’s kind of you, Dylan, but Judge Urvana is still right. We need to get you settled by the end of the day.”

The three of them, along with the two uniformed officers, waited in silence for Urvana’s return.

Two hours later…

The doors finally opened, and Judge Urvana strolled in. Without a word or even a glance, she passed them and took her seat at the bench. Clearing her throat, she said, “You’ve all given me a lot to consider. I’ve also spoken with the League of Adventurers’ representative.”

Urvana leaned forward, straightening her lapelled jacket. “During our recess, I had the pleasure of entertaining two guildmasters. Before today, I’d never even seen a guildmaster.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied each of them, ensuring they felt her dissatisfaction.

Unable to help himself, Dylan asked, “What’s that mean?”

Nathan rubbed his forehead while Charles’ jaw tightened. Leaning toward Dylan, the prismatic elf whispered, “Please stop talking…”

Urvana picked up her tablet. “It means I have a headache. Three headaches, to be precise. But first, let’s move on to sentencing. Charles, I’ve spoken with the injured officer, and they’ve requested a formal apology. I want it in person, and it better be sincere.”

That didn’t sound too bad to Dylan. Charles gave a stoic nod, and Dylan was pretty sure he’d have reacted the same way if they’d sentenced him to a lifetime of hard labor.

“I also agree with the officer—if you truly had control over your mount, this wouldn’t have happened. So, I’ve decided to honor his request to have your mount euthanized. You’ll have time to say your goodbyes after we conclude this case.”

Charles’ knuckles whitened as he gripped the table, his eyes losing focus as Urvana’s words sank in. The tension in his body became palpable—until he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He shot to his feet, his chair slamming into the half-wall, harder than Dylan’s. The officers scrambled to react, too slow to stop him if he’d meant harm. Urvana raised a hand, halting them and giving Charles the chance to speak.

“Please.” Charles’ lip quivered. “Don’t…” His voice caught in his throat. “Don’t punish Vera for my actions.” His iron grip made the wood groan beneath his fingers. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Please don’t kill her.” Tears slipped down his cheeks, catching everyone off guard.

Charles sniffled, his pleading eyes locked on the Judge. “Isn’t there any other way? I’ll take anything.” He blinked away the tears, but they kept coming. His lip trembled as he begged for Vera’s life.

Urvana’s gaze remained cold, unyielding. “It concerns me, Charles, that you shed tears for an animal. Where are the tears for the lives you took yesterday?”

“It’s not her fault. She’s just an animal—she doesn’t know any better.” Charles released the table, clenching his fists as he leaned on his knuckles. “But monsters know better… and they still choose to harm.” His eyes locked on Urvana. “You don’t cry for monsters—you kill them.”

Dylan blinked and shot a sidelong glance at Nathan, whose jaw hung open. ‘Jesus Christ, Charles is hardcore,’ Dylan thought, his mind spinning. This was the same guy who’d killed him three times without hesitation—now begging for his pet’s life. Charles had more depth than he let on.

“You don’t see the irony here? You knew better, yet you still chose to harm them. Does that really make you any better than a monster?” Urvana asked coldly.

Charles didn’t flinch. “I can live with what I’ve done—and I don’t expect anyone to cry when I’m gone.”

Dylan stared, unblinking, ‘What the fuck, dude?’

Nathan also stared at Charles, his yellow eyes wide with disbelief. Urvana sighed, rubbing her temples as though the entire day rested there.