Ratface woke up in a nice soft bed. It had a mattress and a blanket which was luxury as far as she was concerned. She snuggled back into the sheets in a move of pure decadence. Her body protested the initial movement but not the decision to stay lying down.

It was her sides that hurt the most from where people had stumbled into her during the brawl. Fletcher’s hand grabbing her neck had left it stiff, but his goal was more to grab her then to do damage. Now that the danger was gone, she could take immense satisfaction in him being hit. The image of his face bending under Abigial’s fist was on she’d treasure forever.

The sound of padding and weight on her chest announced Halmir the Sly. He sat grooming himself on her. He tried to look put out when she pet him but he still leaned into her touch.

She wouldn’t have thought they were friends when they were in middens but apparently, he’d considered that bonding. She remembered her promise and with a groan she scooped him off her chest and got out of bed. When she was ready, which didn’t take long given her lack of extra clothes, she popped him on her shoulder and headed downstairs.

The waystation was nearly empty by the time she got there. A few people still nursing headaches either from hangovers or concussions but otherwise the crowd had decided to leave before Abigail woke up.

Ratface spied the aforementioned old woman sitting with Robes. They had a pot of tea between them and the table was set for three people.

Ratface sat down at the table and glanced out the window. It looked to be late morning which meant they’d let her sleep in. She went to dig into breakfast, which was a combination of different meats but paused as Halmir squeaked from her shoulder. She cut a quarter of each piece of meat off and pushed it to the side for Halmir who scrambled off her shoulder and into the feast.

Robes made a face about that but otherwise didn’t respond.

“You let me sleep in,” Ratface commented. She dug into the food without waiting for a response.

“I figured if you were unconscious then you wouldn’t be able to get into trouble,” said Abigail.

“Also, a half-starved girl needs her rest,” said Robes. Ratface stopped eating, focusing on the woman who’d so casually butted in.

“Who are you?” Ratface asked. There was a cup of tea in front of her which she grabbed and slurped down in one gulp to the other women’s horror.

“Illusionist Isabelle. My friends call me Issy.” She waved her hands and a smaller image of her came and stood on the table. It bowed to Ratface. That was impressive although Halmir swiping his hand through the illusion did lose it some of the awe. Isabelle frowned at that but continued.

“I’m here to provide you with a passport and a disguise. One that will deal with moderate scrutiny by the time we make it to the next village.”

“And you’re doing this for us why?”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“As a favour,” Isabelle said. Abigail nudged her and the other woman sighed. “Also, for money. That golem was going to be my big payout too.”

Ratface felt better about that. Some people did jobs as a favour but there wasn’t anything in that to stop them going back on their word. At least money came with consequences if you didn’t do the job.

“Once we’re back on the road she’ll work on enchanting your mask to give you a human face,” said Abigail.

“Wouldn’t an elven one be more common?” Isabelle tapped the table.

“That’s a Lurian assumption. Outside of their own country elves are seldom seen. Though whether that’s because they’re disguised or because they aren’t there its hard to say. Most can make a glamour.”

“That reminds me. Issy is also going to be working on cracking the glamour in your mind. See if we can’t find out why a goblin attacked a goblin.”

“Is it really that weird?” Ratface asked. She’d seen plenty of goblins argue and fight. Sure, it never got dangerous but that’s because they were all from the same tribe.

“It’s unprecedented. Part of why there aren’t many goblin adventurers is that they refuse to fight their own kind even when they deserve it,” said Isabelle. She coloured under Ratface’s stare, but Ratface shrugged. It wasn’t like she didn’t know goblins could attack people. Her own village was proof.

“The last thing we’ll be doing is training you,” said Abigail, “so far I’ve yet to see you go a week without being in a fight so you might as well be able to hold your own until I can get to you.”

“You’ve known me for less than a week,” Ratface protested.

“That’s not as good an argument as you think it is,” said Isabelle.

Ratface sighed. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the idea of training.

She just wasn’t a fan of the glint in Abigail’s eyes.

----------------------------------------

She was right not to trust Abigail.

The moment they’d left the woman had her moving. Ratface had to keep running from one tree to another, then run back over to them. She also had to hold the knife in her hand the whole time. To get her used to the feel of it supposedly.

Ratface had argued that she was good with a knife. She’d even shown Abigail some of her moves! The old woman had made her do more drills after that not less.

If that had been all of it, then she would’ve been fine, but she also had to talk the entire time.

“Try again. You need to learn to pronounce you ‘r’ as an ‘r’ instead of an ‘l’” said Isabelle. Ratface was jogging in place next to the woman as her lungs burned. Apparently, the elves didn’t speak common like everyone else. Abigail said they were too haughty for that and Ratface was mildly horrified by the blasphemy being said out loud.

“Off you go,” said Isabelle. Ratface grumbled and went running again. Isabelle wasn’t running at all. She sat atop an old horse as she worked on Ratface’s mask. ‘Mages don’t run’ she’d told Ratface when the girl had complained. That just seemed lazy to her.

At first, Ratface had been worried about running into another city gator. Abigail had insisted the roads would be clear after the hoard of adventurers that’d come by, but she hadn’t believed her. The knife had been a great comfort to her around then. It was about half an hour in that she started to believe the old woman and then the knife became a chore to remember. It wasn’t often you gripped something for an entire day.

They never let her work too hard though. That first half hour had been marked by a break where she walked besides the two older women. She didn’t get a rest from talking though. She’d quickly run out of her stories from sneaking through the village and now had resorted to telling the story of Halmir. They all listened including Halmir who was interested in his namesake’s exploits. She was about halfway through, the moment where Halmir first met the goblin sorcerer when she they reached their camp for the evening.

“Wont you finish the story? It’s so different to the one I heard,” said Isabelle. Ratface shook her head. Halmir was a children’s story and she’d been talking all day. It wasn’t like either ending was that different.

Isabelle huffed but didn’t push, seeing the little goblins exhaustion. She pulled out a small branch from her gear and gave it a tap. Dinner first so the girl could recover.

After that she’d attempt to remove the glamour.