(Dylan)

Nathan thanked the waiter and headed for the door where Dylan was waiting.

“Does everyone accept credits?” Dylan asked as Nathan approached.

The bell chimed as Nathan pulled open the door. “Most people do.” He held it open for Dylan.

“Why use gems then?” Dylan slipped past.

“Everyone’s got their own reasons.” Nathan joined him on the sidewalk outside. He glanced quickly down both sides of the street before crossing. “The astral merchants prefer them over credits because the gems are worth much more off-world.” He moved at a brisk pace and crossed quickly. “And some people just want a backup in case the League pulls out of our world.”

Dylan jogged to keep up. “Has the League ever done that?”

Nathan nodded, keeping his eyes ahead. “A few decades ago, actually. The local government tried to manipulate the League into joining their war. They got exactly what they asked for. Didn’t end well for them; they lost the war and access to the League. After the League left, most of the population followed. The League quickly found a place for everyone using similar refugee contracts to the one you have.”

Dylan had about a dozen questions he wanted to ask about an intergalactic group of super wizards abandoning a planet, but he wouldn’t let ADHD win this time. That sidequest could wait until his current one was done. He simply nodded and asked. “So, how do the gems work?”

“Gemstones are mundane, they don’t actually do anything. They’re just gems.”

Dylan frowned. ‘I walked into that one,’ he thought. “Sorry, I meant what’s each gem worth?”

“Oh,” Nathan stopped mid-stride and turned, fishing into his gem pouch. He pulled out three differently sized gems and held them out in his palm. “The littlest ones are basic gems.” He nudged the tiny one with his index finger. “The next size up is a small gem, which is equal to ten basic gems.” Nathan picked up the small gem and placed it into Dylan’s hand.

Dylan surveyed them. They looked like high-end gemstones from a jewelry store, the kind that would cost thousands of dollars. It surprised him how casually Nathan handled them.

Nathan continued. “The next size up from small is a medium gem, also equal to ten small gems.” He placed all three gems into Dylan’s hand, letting him compare the sizes.

“Okay, so it’s a base ten system.” Dylan grinned, recognizing the system from games he used to play. This would be easy to remember.

“Yes,” Nathan said with a slight smile as he watched Dylan’s inspection. “And there are two more sizes. Large gems, which I don’t carry on me—far too much wealth to keep on you without a storage ability. And the last are huge gems. I’ve never actually seen one of those.”

Dylan pushed the gems around with a finger. “And what about the colors?”

“Yes, gems come in many colors,” Nathan said.

“I got that part… I meant which colors are more valuable?” Dylan picked up the basic yellow gem and held it up to the light. The sunlight caught the gem, making it sparkle with a sharp brilliance—until it blinded him, forcing him to fumble the gem with a wince.

Nathan reached out, calmly catching it mid-air with ease. “All gems of the same size have equal value.”

Dylan handed the other two gems back while rubbing his sore eyes. “Right, but which color has the most value?”

Nathan pursed his lips, clearly searching for the right words. “Value isn’t based on color.” He slipped the gems back into the pouch. “They’re all equal.”

Dylan chewed on that thought for a second.

“Why?” Nathan asked, cocking his head. “Is that different on Dirt?”

“That’s a loaded question.” Dylan shook his head, refusing to elaborate. He began walking again, no clue how to find Charles from here.

Nathan gave a slight shrug and caught up, resuming the lead. They weaved their way through Dartmouth toward Merchants’ Circle, where they found a treehouse occupying Charles’ usual spot. Nathan stepped up and knocked firmly on the cabin door. They waited a minute, but Charles didn’t answer.

“Charles, you in there?” Dylan called, leaning toward the door.

“Maybe he can’t hear us?” Nathan suggested.

“Oh, he can hear us. You can hear everything in there. It’s like it gets amplified or something.” Dylan stepped back just as the door swung open, nearly hitting him.

Charles stood there, shirtless and half-asleep, rubbing his eyes. “Apologies, I must have nodded off. I’ve had little sleep this week.”

“Holy crap, even he’s got an eight-pack.” Dylan gawked openly at Charles.

A disconcerting number of scars crisscrossed Charles’ torso, though he seemed unfazed by them. Dylan made a mental note not to bring it up until Charles did.

“Just like Abs…” Dylan’s voice trailed off in awe.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Who’s Abs?” Nathan raised an eyebrow.

Dylan waved a hand. “Just an elf I met back at Ebonscale.” He pointed to Charles’ midsection. “Is that an elf thing or…?”

Nathan gave a casual shrug. “That’s the standard elven physique.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You all look like this?” Dylan asked, continuing to point at Charles’ well-defined stomach.

Nathan nodded.

“I don’t believe you,” Dylan said, planting his hands on his hips. “Show me.” He motioned with his chin toward the prismatic elf.

“What?” Nathan blinked, taken aback.

“You’ve already seen mine. Now lift up your shirt and show me yours.” Dylan tapped his foot, arms crossed impatiently.

With a sigh, Nathan rolled his eyes, grabbed his shirt, and lifted it. Dylan counted at least six abs before Nathan’s shirt came back down and interrupted him.

“Is everyone ripped on this planet?” Dylan asked. “I’ve landed on the planet of himbos and bimbos.” He looked down at his paunch. “It’s not fair.”

“I’m fairly certain you also have abdominal muscles,” Nathan said.

“But not the runway model levels of body fat. This is going to be my life, isn’t it? I’m always going to be the ugly one.”

Nathan chuckled. “I’m sure half of Dartmouth would disagree.”

Dylan gave him a confused looked before shielding his eyes from Charles. “Could you put a shirt on at least? Jesus, that’s terribly distracting.”

Charles sighed and retreated into the treehouse. Moments later, he returned in a loose-fitting shirt. “Better?”

The shirt had a low v-cut, revealing the rugged elf’s sculpted pecs. “It’ll have to do,” he grumbled.

“Now, what can I get you?” Charles asked, glancing between them.

Dylan turned to Nathan and grinned. “Yes, Nathan, what can he get me?”

Nathan considered for a moment before rattling off the list. “We should start with seven sets of outfits. Double that for undergarments. Dress boots, town boots, and two pairs of traveling boots. Two vests, two jackets—one light, one heavy.” He turned to Dylan. “Do you like hats?”

Dylan shook his head quickly. “No, not really.”

“Alright then, that should be the order,” Nathan confirmed.

“Do you still have my cloak and the dagger?” Dylan craned his neck, peering through the open door down the dimly lit hallway of the treehouse.

“Yes, your room is as you left it,” Charles said. “Minus the candles.”

Dylan winced at that last part. He hopped inside, relief washing over him. The fire hadn’t burned everything to a crisp as he’d feared. He grabbed the orange cloak and pink crystal dagger, eyeing the room one last time before stepping out.

“That order will take some time,” Charles said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Would you like me to drop it off when I’m done?”

Nathan shook his head. “I’d like to wait if you don’t mind, court order and all that.”

“Suit yourself,” Charles shrugged casually. He called over his shoulder, “Dylan, bring out the two stools and the table.”

“Okay.” Dylan bent over, balancing the stools and the table awkwardly in his arms. He carefully maneuvered his way outside, managing not to trip or drop anything. Once he had the furniture set up, he stepped back, pleased with himself.

Charles gave a slight nod of approval before asking, “Tea, anyone?”

“No!” Dylan said, his voice harsher than he intended. “I mean, no. None for me.”

“I’m just not thirsty,” Dylan lied, shifting uncomfortably as he avoided Charles’ gaze.

Nathan shot him a questioning look, and Dylan, not liking the scrutiny, quickly redirected the conversation. “Why seven sets of clothes?”

Nathan sat up straight in his seat, arms crossed. “I figured you wouldn’t want to do laundry more than once a week. Why? Do you want more?”

“If he does, it’ll have to wait until tomorrow,” Charles cut in, pulling open a chest and retrieving several tiny pairs of pants. “After this, I’m taking a very long nap.”

“Fair enough. Do you take credits? I’m not sure I have enough gems on me for all this.” Nathan pointed toward the growing pile of tiny clothes.

Charles nodded. “Credits are fine. How are you getting all this back to Nightshade?”

“I’ll rent a grav-slab for the day,” Nathan answered, gesturing toward the stables where the long, floating stone slabs hovered in neat rows.

Charles resumed his work and retired four pairs of boots next. The hinge creaked as he closed it again. He took out a needle. Charles took out a needle, the thread moving quickly through the supple leather as he resized the boots in just a few seconds.

Dylan watched with interest. “I thought you said boots take a while to resize?”

Charles paused, then glanced over his shoulder. “These are different.”

Nathan, eyes narrowing slightly, observed Charles with a suspicious gaze.

Sensing it, Charles straightened and asked, “So, what are the next steps for Dylan’s refugee contract?”

Nathan relaxed a bit, shifting gears. “Once we’ve got his basic needs sorted, we’ll focus on helping him feel secure. That means physical training, self-defense, and eventually, finding a job so he can start earning his own money. Once that’s established, we’ll draft a finance plan so he can save up and eventually buy his own property.”

Nathan watched as Charles continued resizing the garments to Dylan’s exact proportions. “Just three major steps after that and then the contract will be complete.”

“Any idea what you want to do for a job?” Charles asked, still focused on his work.

Dylan hesitated, then asked. “Does joining a guild count as a job?”

“Yes, but you don’t have to do that.” Charles said. “You have other options.”

“Like what?” Dylan shot back before his attention shifted abruptly. “Hey, Nathan, you should totally get a pair of pants while we’re here!”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Nathan said. “Charles already mentioned he’s tired, and it looks like he could really use the rest.”

Charles gave a casual shrug. “An extra pair won’t kill me.”

Nathan glanced at Charles, then back at Dylan. “He’s been singing praises about the quality of your work,” he admitted. “Alright, I’ll take a pair, but I’ll pay with gems.”

He stood up, moving toward Charles, who was busy with another pair of pants. Nathan hesitated, unsure what to do next.

Without turning around, Charles asked, “What are you doing?”

“I assumed you’d need to take measurements,” Nathan replied, sounding slightly confused.

Charles finally turned; a pair of pants draped over his arm. “I already took them.”

Nathan blinked, staring at the pants as he accepted them. He returned to his seat, shaking his head in disbelief.

Dylan leaned over, whispering loudly, “He’s got magic powers,” before adding a playful wink.

Once Charles finished, they stacked the neatly folded clothes high on a grav-slab, the stone humming softly beneath them. Nathan paid for the order and his new pants.

“I’ll be by the guild tomorrow,” Charles called out to them before disappearing into the treehouse, shutting the door behind him.

After their goodbyes, they began making their way back through town. Dylan walked beside the large floating stone slate and picked up a pair of pants.

“These are all a bit… bland,” Dylan remarked, holding up one of the pants.

“They’re all the same color. I don’t think Charles carries anything else,” Nathan said with a shrug. “Is that a problem?”

Dylan’s eyes lit up as he spotted a shop ahead. ‘The Chromatic Crypt, Dyeing to Meet You and Your Needs.’

“Not one we can’t fix,” he said, pointing to the store. “Can we stop there?”

“Sure, but—” Nathan tried to warn him.

But Dylan was already rushing to the door. He pushed it open, and the bell jingled as he stepped into a large, mostly empty room.

“Greetings!” a voice called out from behind the door.

Dylan smiled, but it quickly vanished when the door closed to reveal a bone-white, naked skeleton stepping toward him.

Dylan screamed.

The skeleton screamed.

Then they both screamed.