(Dylan)

Judge Urvana leaned back in her chair, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk as she contemplated Charles’ words. She let out a weary sigh. “I really wish the guilds would take a page from the League and stay out of politics.”

The rugged elf remained standing, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the judge. He wouldn’t sit until he knew Vera was safe. His breathing, shallow and tense, gradually slowed as he forced himself back into his stoic composure. His stance softened, but the sharp alertness in his eyes stayed.

Urvana pursed her lips, drawing in a slow breath as though steeling herself for an unpleasant task. “Fine,” she said, her voice heavy with resignation.

“Fine?” Charles’ eyebrow twitched. His voice was low, laced with suspicion.

“Ebonscale has already offered to take her back to their stables.” She straightened, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “But consider the animal permanently banned from Dartmouth.”

Charles’ jaw clenched at the mention of Ebonscale, but he gave a curt nod, swallowing his frustration. With Vera’s life no longer hanging in the balance, he let out a deep breath. Charles retrieved his chair, lowering himself into it.

Urvana tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “You’ll have to work out payment or voluntary surrender for the stabling services with Ebonscale directly.”

“Thank you for sparing her,” Charles replied, his voice returning to its even tone.

“You’ll provide restitution to the hospital for all repairs,” Urvana continued, her eyes narrowing as she studied Charles’ reaction. The rugged elf gave a stiff nod. “The League has offered to broker this deal. They’re offering a no-interest loan to cover the damage.”

Dylan noticed the corner of Charles’ mouth tighten again at the mention of the League. There were a lot of parties interested in this case. Still, this was his first brush with Dartmouth’s legal system, and he couldn’t tell if this was normal—or if they were all in over their heads.

The judge continued, “If you accept the loan, they’ve requested completed crafting contracts as compensation,” her fingers tapping lightly on the tablet as she spoke. “The total cost of the damage should be calculated by the end of the day. Do you wish to settle the debt with the hospital or with the League?”

Charles exhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw tightening. “The League.”

Urvana tapped on the tablet, pausing briefly before lifting her head. “I’m also sentencing you to one year community service. This will offer an opportunity for both restitution and rehabilitation. The League has also requested you complete your community service with them as an adventurer.”

Charles winced, his face tightening, and he swallowed hard as he continued listening.

“I’m aware your Adventuring license is currently suspended,” she said. “You need a guild sponsor to restore it. You have one year to find a new sponsor.” Urvana hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Or you could save yourself the trouble and rejoin Ebonscale. Guildmaster Maeve has extended an offer—”

“No.” Charles cut in; his voice sharp as his blades.

Urvana raised a brow. “No?” she repeated, disbelief coloring her tone. “One of the most powerful people in our world tries to recruit you, and you don’t even want to think about it?” She crossed her arms, staring as she tried to read his reaction.

“No,” Charles repeated, leaving no room for negotiation.

Urvana clicked her tongue in mild exasperation. “That’s fine, because my next meeting was with Guildmaster K’hab. He’s offered you an invitation to join Nightshade.”

Charles shook his head slowly, his expression unreadable. “No, thank you.”

Nathan, leaning forward, craned his neck to look at Charles past Dylan. “Why not?”

Charles kept his focus locked on the judge, his face making it clear he had no intention of answering.

Urvana threw up her hands in exasperation. “Would it make a difference if I told you both guildmasters offered to cover your debt to the League, if you accept?”

Charles shook his head.

Urvana sighed, her patience visibly wearing thin. “I was afraid not,” she muttered under her breath. She clapped her hands lightly, as if trying to shake off the sheer absurdity of the situation. “Fine. I’ll let two of the most influential people in the realm know that you’re not interested in joining either of their prestigious guilds.”

Dylan shot a confused glance at Charles. ‘Why doesn’t he want to join Nightshade?’

The judge continued with a casual shrug. “Maybe you’ve got better prospects.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. But you will find a guild to sponsor you within the year.” She shot Charles a pointed look.

“Once you’re back as a licensed adventurer, you must complete 150 common-ranked or higher contracts,” she added, resuming her practiced formal tone. “The League considers that a fair number for a year’s work. There’s no set timeframe, but you’ll be required to keep your license active until your quota is fulfilled.”

She set her tablet down and leaned forward slightly. “Charles, do you have questions about your sentencing?”

“No,” Charles said.

Urvana shook her head at the three of them. “I don’t like trouble,” she said, her voice low and edged with weariness. “I don’t enjoy unexpected career firsts or having to tell people who could make me disappear ‘no.’” She sighed again, rubbing her temples as though warding off an inevitable headache.

“And I especially don’t like the amount of attention you three have drawn from some exceptionally powerful organizations,” she added, her words heavy with warning.

Urvana straightened herself, fixing her hair. “Charles, your sentencing is complete. See the attendant before you leave to complete any remaining paperwork, and then, for the love of Mother, move your transport.”

Dylan’s face broke into a wide grin, and without thinking, he threw his arms around Charles in a spontaneous hug. “You’re not going to prison!” His voice was full of unrestrained joy. Charles sat stiffly, his entire body tensing as if unsure how to react, remaining frozen until Dylan finally released him.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“One last thing before you go.” Urvana’s voice softened as she shifted her gaze to Dylan. “Guildmaster Maeve has requested to meet with you.”

Dylan blinked, jabbing a thumb at his own chest. “Princess Spock wants to meet me?”

“No,” Urvana repeated, louder this time. “Guildmaster Maeve wants to meet you.”

Dylan barely had time to process the idea before Charles leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Did she say why?”

“No,” Urvana replied, “but I’ve already refused on your behalf. I don’t know what a woman in her position wants with a refugee, but I can’t imagine her motivations are anything but concerning. The power dynamic alone is troubling.”

She paused, her gaze softening just a little. “While I may come to regret that decision, you’ve come to us for protection. She’s agreed to wait until your refugee status is resolved. My advice? Take your time integrating into our society. It’s possible she’ll lose interest and move on.”

Dylan swallowed, a nervous tingle running down his spine. The weight of the conversation settled heavily on his shoulders, leaving him unsure of how to feel about the whole situation.

“Either way,” Urvana added with a sharp glance, “be prepared. She doesn’t take ‘no’ lightly.”

“Thank you,” Nathan said, his voice calm but grateful as he inclined his head slightly in appreciation.

“You can thank me by staying out of trouble,” Urvana retorted with a wry smile.

Nathan and Dylan stood just outside the Dartmouth Constabulary, the midday sun casting long shadows across the cobblestone street. The trio had agreed to meet at Merchants’ Circle in a couple of hours, once Charles had moved his treehouse and apologized to the injured officer. Nathan, stomach growling, insisted on grabbing lunch. Dylan wasn’t particularly hungry, but he could tell Nathan wasn’t about to let him out of his sight.

The two of them wandered into a small restaurant called ‘Catch of the Day.’ The faint scent of grilled fish and herbs hung in the air as they walked through the door. Inside, a glowing enchanted chalkboard listed the menu: Simple, Herb-Crusted, Spicy, Tangy, Smoked, Sweet, Savory, and Sweet & Savory.

Dylan slid into the booth across from Nathan, glancing around at the other patrons. The seats were plush but firm, and the low hum of conversations blended with the clinking of dishes and crystalware. He barely noticed when the waiter, a well-groomed okamijin with a shiny amber coat, approached their table, carrying two place settings.

“Will it just be the two of you?” the waiter asked, his voice smooth and professional as he set down the neatly wrapped utensils.

Dylan’s eyes caught the waiter’s furry, clawed hands as they carefully placed crystalware in front of him. An icy shiver ran down his spine, his mind briefly flashing back to the deadly beating from Dreadfang. He blinked hard, trying to shake the memory away. During the court recess, Charles had told him the name of his okamijin killer.

“Yes,” Nathan replied, leaning back in his seat.

The waiter nodded. “What can I get for you?”

“I’ll have tangy,” Nathan said with a polite smile.

“Would you like that flaky, firm, or crispy?” the waiter asked.

“Flaky, please,” Nathan answered without hesitation.

“And for you?” the waiter asked, turning his attention to Dylan

“I don’t know what’s on the menu.” Dylan avoided looking up, choosing to focus on the neatly wrapped utensils he was fidgeting with instead.

The waiter pointed toward the chalkboard with a swift, precise motion. “That’s the menu, sir.”

Before Dylan could respond, Nathan cut in, his voice firm but protective. “It’s fine. He can’t have any of it, anyway.”

Dylan glanced up. “Yeah, but I can still look, can’t I?”

Nathan shook his head, his answer firm but kind. “It’s probably best if you don’t.”

“Okay, fine.” Dylan sighed, fidgeting with the utensils again.

The waiter, sensing the tension ease, asked, “Would you like anything stronger than water?”

“No, two waters would be great,” Nathan replied with a small smile.

“I’ll be right back with your drinks,” the waiter said before disappearing behind a set of double doors marked ‘Staff Only.’

After the waiter had left, Dylan finally looked up from his fidgeting. “How do you know what you ordered?”

“I don’t,” Nathan said with a casual shrug, leaning back in his seat. “All I know is it’ll be flaky and tangy.”

“Yeah, but…” Dylan struggled to follow. “What fish did you order?”

Nathan gave a kind smile, his voice calm as he explained. “Doesn’t matter. The proprietor buys from traveling merchants with storage abilities or items that keep the fish fresh. It could come from a river, lake, or even the sea. They keep it simple—just asking how I want it prepared, and they use whatever’s on hand to match my order.”

Nathan gestured toward the sign with a small, knowing smile. “And that’s why they call this place Catch of the Day.”

“It’s a shame I can’t try any.” Dylan crossed his arms over the table, pouting.

“Don’t you get any ideas.” Nathan shot him a stern look. “You absolutely can’t try any.”

Dylan slouched slightly in his seat, his gaze wandering around the room as he half-listened to Nathan. The lively conversation happening in the booth behind them quickly stole his attention, the animated voices of two female patrons drifting over and pulling him in.

“And then he swooped out of the sky and landed right on the tyrant’s back!” one of the women exclaimed, her voice brimming with excitement.

Dylan’s ears perked up. ‘An adventurer?’ he thought, leaning slightly closer without realizing it.

“I didn’t know he had a flying ability,” the second voice chimed in full of surprise.

“Of course he does! How else do you think he killed the brood mother?” the first voice replied.

“That makes sense,” the second voice admitted.

“Anyway, the enraged tyrant was massive—mean and feral, nothing like the ones they train at Ebonscale. She tore through the jungle, trying to throw him off.” The first voice paused dramatically before asking, “Do you know how big tyrants can get?”

“I heard they grow as tall as the trees,” the second woman answered.

“Yeah, but this one was even bigger.” She held out her arms wide. “Lo’kai got battered by branches, leaves, and vines as she charged through the jungle—”

The second voice cut in. “How did he stay on?”

“I don’t know! He’s amazing—maybe it was one of his other abilities. But he rode that beast straight into the swamp, right into the bog hydra’s territory,” the first voice continued with admiration. “All according to his plan.”

“Wait,” the second voice said. “What about the bog hydra? I thought that was his contract.”

“Exactly! That’s the genius of his plan! He picked a fight with the biggest, meanest tyrant he could find, just to rile her up and get her ready for battle. Then he drove her straight into the bog hydra’s territory.”

“He fought them both at the same time?!” the second voice exclaimed incredulously.

“Nope. Just before the trees cleared and revealed the bog hydra’s pool, he grabbed hold of the very last vine and hung there, watching as the two monsters tore each other apart.”

The second voice jumped in before Dylan could. “What happened? Who won?”

“The bog hydra didn’t stand a chance. Lo’kai had ridden the tyrant hard and worked up her appetite. Apparently, hydras don’t grow their legs if you eat them. Or their bodies.”

“Ew… gross,” the second voice muttered, and Dylan heard the unmistakable sound of a plate being pushed away in disgust.

“I know,” the first voice replied, clearly unfazed. “But that’s how Lo’kai killed a bog hydra… and got a pet tyrant.”

“He’s so cool.”

“Yeah, and seriously hot…” the first voice added, drifting off into a dreamy sigh.

“I swear, you’ve got scale fever.”

“You’re not wrong.” The first woman giggled and then dropped her voice to a whisper. “You know, sometimes I dream that I’m the tyrant—”

That’s when Dylan made a conscious effort to tune them out. It was easily one of the craziest stories he’d ever heard, and he had no clue what a tyrant, brood mother, or bog hydra even was. The tangy scent of Nathan’s fish, however, brought his focus sharply back to the table.

“How’s the food?” Dylan asked, trying to sound casual. He unconsciously licked his lips, betraying his envy as he watched Nathan shovel another bite of the flaky fish into his mouth.

Nathan nodded, chewing slowly and savoring the taste before responding with a simple, “It’s good.”

Dylan’s stomach grumbled despite himself. ‘He hasn’t said a word in a while. He must be really hungry,’ he thought, glancing again at the half-eaten meal.

“Have you ever heard of a guy named Lo’kai?” Dylan asked, trying to shift his focus away from the tantalizing smell of food he couldn’t eat.

“Yeah,” Nathan mumbled between bites. “He’s an adventurer. Guildmate of mine, actually.”

Dylan raised an eyebrow. “So, you actually know him?” He noticed Nathan’s eyes had shifted to green as he ate.

“Nightshade’s a big guild,” Nathan said, taking his time as he chewed, swallowed, and casually reached for another bite. “It’s more like… we’ve met.”

The prismatic elf finished his meal, licking the last bit of tangy sauce from his lips, and stood to settle their tab. At the counter, the waiter gave him the total, and Nathan tapped his League card on the register. The soft chime of the transaction echoed through the cozy restaurant as he opted to use League credits instead of gems.