(Charles)

“What’s unfortunate?” Fu-tang’s ears swiveled back and to the sides, searching for anything out of place.

Charles frowned, knowing a flying transport would be exceptionally costly to reimburse. Still, he had some valuable relics and artifacts in his storage he could barter with, though he preferred to pay with gems; items rarely reflected their true worth when exchanged for services.

“Never mind.” He waved his hand. “What’s the cost? I’d like to pay now and get back on the road.” Charles reached for his gem purse, but before he could retrieve it, Fu-tang pre-emptively handed him a bundle of loose rope.

“Give me a hand with this.” Fu-tang wasn’t one to sit still and engage in idle conversation. It reminded Charles of his past, when the steadfast torajin would saddle him with chores to dodge questions.

Charles fell into old habits, untangling the mess without a second thought. “How much to cover the transport and three months of rehabilitation?” he asked again.

Fu-tang turned to fetch an uncoiled bundle of rope of his own, never asking anyone to do something he wouldn’t do himself. “You’ll have to take that up with Guildmaster Maeve.”

That was not the price he wanted to hear.

“Surely haggling over the price for stabling is beneath a guildmaster…” Charles began coiling the recently untangled rope. His argument seemed to have little effect on the steadfast torajin. “Fu-tang, we’ve known each other for a long time—”

“Since you were a yearling,” Fu-tang corrected, his usually steadfast demeanor softening. Charles could almost see the ghost of his younger self reflected in the torajin’s eyes, back when life had been simpler, filled with lessons and chores.

It was true; the stablemaster had been there the day an orphaned infant, Charles, was surrendered into their care. Having no children of his own, Fu-tang took an interest in the young wards of Ebonscale. He even worked out a program for the children to help with feeding and caring for the more docile creatures.

As the children grew older, working with animals usually graduated from something fun and exciting to a chore. That’s when Fu-tang would stop asking them for help and let them move on to more enriching activities. Charles always thought animals were easier to understand than people. They were predictable, and knowing what to expect made him feel safe. Probably why Fu-tang never stopped asking for his help and eventually showed him how to work with their most challenging creatures: the theropods.

“I’d rather not bother her,” Charles said truthfully.

Fu-tang took the coiled rope from Charles and hung it beside his own on a nearby post. “I’ll take good care of Vera, as I’ve always done,” he said. “Do me a favor, though? Keep an open mind.”

Fu-tang’s sharp eyes had locked on to something coming their way, far out enough that Proprioception hadn’t sensed it yet. Curious, Charles turned to follow his gaze. He froze. Striding toward them was a woman whose elegance was matched by subtle confidence.

Guildmaster Maeve was alone. Charles had always imagined her with an entourage of servants, guards, and suitors. She carried herself with an ease that seemed out of place, but it was the lack of fanfare that made it unsettling.

The rumors of her beauty hadn’t been overstated. Charles had to admit she was gorgeous in the traditional sense. He imagined other men, and perhaps several women, found her irresistibly attractive.

She wore a pixie cut that showed off her shapely ears. Black hair was striking on an elf—not a natural color, but it matched her outfit well: a mix of black, gold, and emerald. It was a bit too stylistic for Charles’ tastes; he much preferred a simple palette.

Her form-fitting vest, made of crushed black velvet with emerald embroidery and golden adornments, sat over a simple black blouse. Her cape was also black—an interesting choice. Most were orange, blue, or purple to better blend in with the local foliage. It made sense, though; a guildmaster wouldn’t normally be skulking about in the brush.

‘Where’s the tiara?’ Charles wondered. In all the depictions he’d seen of her, she always wore an emerald crystal tiara. She walked right up to both men and stopped.

Guildmaster Maeve turned to the steadfast torajin and gave a simple nod of her head. “Fu-tang.”

Charles was surprised she knew his name; the former headmaster had always addressed him as “stablemaster.”

“Guildmaster.” Fu-tang placed a fist to his heart and bowed—a common sign of respect among both the torajin and okamijin.

She turned to Charles and greeted him with a warm smile. It was more genuine than he expected—easily disarming. “And you must be Charles. The gate guards informed me of your arrival. I don’t think we’ve met before.” She gave a slight sigh. “I rarely find the opportunity to visit my homeworld, Xel’oria, anymore.”

Charles held his head high, straightening himself. “That’s correct, Guildmaster,” he said, giving his usual curt nod.

“Guildmaster? So formal.” Maeve’s chuckle caught Charles off guard. It was warm and playful. “Have you changed your mind on accepting my invite to rejoin our guild?”

Charles shook his head. “No.”

“Good,” she said casually. It wasn’t the response Charles expected.

He narrowed his eyes, searching for her angle. “Good? I thought you wanted me to rejoin Ebonscale?”

“I do.” Maeve glanced past Charles, inspecting the progress on the new water stables. “And your initial rejection of my offer tells me my instincts were correct. Of course, I would’ve honored it if you had accepted then, but I’ve learned that the best rewards have to be earned.” She shifted her attention back to Charles. “Also, please call me Maeve.”

‘Another test,’ he thought. He was certain it would end with Guildmaster Maeve getting what she wanted, regardless of the outcome.

She turned to the stablemaster. “Are there any issues or problems with Charles’ request?”

Fu-tang gave a quick shake of his head. “No, Guildmaster. Just waiting on the team to return.”

Hesitant to hear the answer, Charles clenched his jaw and opted for a direct approach. “What will this cost me?”

“Dinner.” Maeve scrutinized the dark rings under his eyes. “But by the looks of it, you’ve been traveling many days with little rest.” She gestured toward the dorms. “I’ve had your old quarters prepared, if you wish to avail yourself of them. Get some rest. I’ll see you tonight.” She gave a brief nod, excusing herself.

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

Before she could take a step, Charles said, “I’d prefer to pay my debt now and be on my way.”

She stopped and faced him, folding her hands patiently in front of her. “Perhaps I was unclear. Having dinner with me is the price.” She glanced at Fu-tang. “Please join us and ensure he isn’t late.”

Surprised by the spontaneous invitation, the steadfast torajin gave another bow. “That… would be an honor.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She offered another smile, the corners of her eyes betraying a hint of her own fatigue. “I’m in the middle of sorting out a rather large mess. We’ll have more time for a proper conversation tonight at dinner.”

“Oh, and Charles,” her eyebrows raised ever so slightly, “if you’ve any notion of declining this invitation, a lady might take it personally.” Maeve turned and strode off toward the guildhall, her dark cape dutifully following.

Fu-tang’s posture eased. “She’s right, you look tired.” He began picking up scraps of wood from the recent construction, tossing them into a nearby cart.

“I am tired,” Charles admitted. He was tired of being manipulated. “But I’m exhausted, too.” He sighed, unable to let Fu-tang clean up alone. “Fine, we’ll have dinner with Guild—” he caught himself, “Maeve.” It felt… irreverent not using her title.

His plan to avoid running into her had failed, and she’d made it clear that skipping dinner would go poorly for him. At least he could get a few hours of rest before having to sit through whatever schemes she had in mind for him.

Worst of all, she’d been cordial with him—warm, even. That provided him with little insight into what she was plotting beyond the obvious meal. Like most foods, it’d probably be under seasoned too.

They finished collecting the scrap wood, placing it in a pile to be reused for smaller projects later. His attention shifted to the purpose of the latest addition to the stronghold, and his involuntary evening obligations provided an excuse to investigate.

“What’s with the pond?” he asked, hefting a heavy barrel filled with liquid alongside Fu-tang.

“Ebonscale’s been cooking up a new theropod.” Fu-tang gestured toward their destination with an elbow—a smaller pond that sat beside, but separate from, the one with the stable.

“Another one?” Charles asked, waddling alongside Fu-tang. The barrel was unwieldy and awkward to carry. “What? The small, medium, large, and mega versions weren’t enough?”

“Apparently not.” Fu-tang let out a small sigh. “They’ve… acquired the services of an adventurer with the ability to alter beasts.”

“Alter them? How?” Charles carefully set the barrel down beside the smaller pond.

Fu-tang stood up, arching his back. “I’ve got a pair of them on the way. They swim like fish. Instead of legs, they’ve got fins and a more powerful tail to move around.” He made a ripple motion with his hand. “They want to see if I can train them as water mounts.”

“What do they plan to do with water mounts? That seems limiting.” Charles struggled to imagine rideable feathered fish or legless theropods.

Fu-tang shrugged, unlatching the top of the barrel. “I don’t think they’re for Xel’oria. Some worlds are covered in water. My gems are on another expansion to a water world, it would make sense to start preparing for it now.” He pulled off the lid, revealing a barrel filled with fish in water. “I don’t mind. It’ll keep me busy and give me something new to learn. I just wish they’d stop changing the name of the poor creatures.”

Charles didn’t understand. “What do you mean?”

Fu-tang crouched low, wrapped his arms around the barrel, and lifted it. “First, they were waterpods.” He grunted as he waddled into the pond. “No, I’ve got this—stay dry,” he said to Charles when he moved to assist. “Then aquapods. Seapods lasted the longest.” Fu-tang was now waist-deep in another pond. “And now they’re calling them surfpods.”

“What difference does it make?” Charles watched as the steadfast torajin lowered the barrel into the pond, allowing the fish to swim out gently. He would have just dumped them in from the side, but the stablemaster knew that would stress or injure the fish. It was also an excuse to get back in the water. Torajin were known for being excellent swimmers with a natural affinity for water.

“Very little to you and me,” Fu-tang said, watching the fish explore their new home. “But having an identity is important. They’re the first of their kind. All our current variations, from the small pets to the tyrants, evolved over a long and selective breeding process, but are still theropods at their core.” He slowly made his way back to dry land. “And I agree—they should have their own name, but for the love of Mother, stop changing it every week.”

It had taken the two of them to stock the pond with fish. Charles grew curious about how they planned to stock the pond with something as large as a mount.

“How are they going to get them here?” he asked. The pond didn’t appear to connect to any other waterways, not even a river leading to the lake just outside the stronghold’s bounds. Unless the pond was deeper than it appeared. He wondered if there was a subterranean water passage and if that was how Dylan and his friend had gotten into the stronghold.

“Another experimental item.” Fu-tang’s eyes lit up as he explained. He was always excited to use new technology. “A dimensional device that captures and stores living creatures in stasis.”

“Like a storage ability… for living creatures?”

Fu-tang drip-dried as he led them to another barrel. There were five in total—a lot of fish. Charles gathered it was to feed the new mounts.

“It’s a handheld cubed item.” Fu-tang held out his hand, as if imagining he already had the device.

“Does it work on people?” Charles asked with morbid curiosity.

“I’ve been wondering the same thing. You remember Rono?” Fu-tang asked.

Charles simply nodded.

“I feel bad about it now, but after the surfpods were delivered, I’d planned on trying to stick him in one to find out.” Fu-tang’s expression darkened. “I know it’s not kind to speak ill of the dead, but he’s been a divine pain in my ass lately.”

Fu-tang looked up at Charles before they lifted the next barrel. “Oh, sorry—I’m not sure if you’ve heard. Rono and Dreadfang were both killed recently.”

“I heard,” was all Charles would admit.

“I mean, they died after the attack.” Fu-tang rested a hand on the lid of the barrel. “Actually, they were in Dartmouth, same as you, when it happened.” His shoulders slumped, revealing a glimpse of his true age, and he sighed. “Things have been a real mess the past couple of weeks.”

While he was aware of the “when” and “where” of Dreadfang and Rono’s deaths, it appeared Guildmaster Maeve was keeping the “who” and “why” close to her chest—most likely another card she was waiting to play. Information like that had leverage.

Wanting to change the subject, Charles asked, “And the Alchemy lab?”

Fu-tang shook his head. “A complete loss.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

Fu-tang bent down, and together they hefted the barrel. “If not for the loss of life, I’d have called it a hidden gift. The new building will be much better designed.”

“I told them more than once, it was an accident waiting to happen—” A yawn interrupted him mid-carry. Fu-tang pretended not to notice, and they finished releasing the remaining barrels of fish into the pond.

“I might as well get some rest.” Charles clapped the dirt from his hands. While it felt good to work with his old mentor, exhaustion was quickly catching up with him. Even now, he fought to keep his eyes open.

“Will you be staying in your old room?” Fu-tang walked with him toward the guildhall.

“No. I’ll be in my arborhearth.”

“Rest well, and I’m glad you’ve come back,” Fu-tang said, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m not back,” Charles replied. The stablemaster returned to the pond as Charles made his way back to his arborhearth.

Satisfied there weren’t any unexpected meetings along the way, Charles removed his shirt. He didn’t mind sleeping in pants; they kept him decent enough if he needed to act quickly and didn’t restrict him as much as shirts did while he slept.

His nose told him he needed a bath, but the rest of his body insisted it would have to wait. He was asleep moments after his head hit the pillow.

A few hours later…

Rap, rap, rap. Charles’s eyes snapped open.

“Charles?” Fu-tang’s voice called from outside the arborhearth. Charles forced himself out of bed. He could have slept until morning, but a handful of hours would have to do for now. He just wanted to get it over with, and pulled the door open, answering Fu-tang’s summons shirtless.

“Is it time?” Charles asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Just about,” Fu-tang said.

Charles stretched, reaching high above him, and twisted back and forth at his hips. Then he opened his eyes, and what he saw standing in front of him didn’t make sense. Fu-tang was wearing a full suit and jacket. In the many decades they’d known each other, the steadfast torajin had never worn anything other than his standard working attire.

Charles tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes. “What are you wearing?”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” A worried expression crossed Fu-tang’s face as he glanced down at his well-fitting suit. “You don’t think it’s formal enough?”

“It’s… fine,” Charles admitted. “I’ve just never seen you in more than shorts and a tunic.”

“Oh.” Fu-tang exhaled a relieved breath. “I’ve never been invited to a dinner with the headmaster before, let alone the guildmaster.”

Charles frowned at the reminder and glanced quickly toward the back of his arborhearth. “Do we have a few minutes before we have to leave?”

“A couple… Why?”