The tavern we’d landed at had a sign of a red stag out front. Inside, it revealed itself to be large, busy, but cozy, lit by dim lamps and a stained glass window depicting an elven woman in armor.

The bartender here introduced herself as Wu’ulush. But she said we could call her Lush on account of our lowlander accents. Despite the green skin and tusks, she looked very much how I’d expect a woman of her age to look, rotund and matronly, her eyes seemed permanently creased with a smile.

Until I asked her about the painting above the bar — a beautiful oil painting of an axe crossed over a nasty-looking hooked sword on a bed of velvet.

“Those,” she said, pointing to the painting with a jerked thumb, “are my ancestral weapons. My husband carried them into battle, and his father before him, and so on.”

“Why just the painting?”

“You’ll have to ask your king about that,” she deadpanned. “Price of an orc living in the city, they say.”

“Oh, well. That sucks.”

“Eh,” she shrugged, face brightening into the one I was more familiar with. “I’m happy to be a business owner. Didn’t have much use for them anyway. And the city got a hundred thousand folks all crammed together. If we all had swords, maybe we’d find a reason to use them.”

I didn’t know much about this city yet. Maybe this all made sense from Caleb’s point of view. I’d never been a king before.

But it seemed weird that an elf got to put their sword behind the bar and not an orc.

Which reminded me. I wrote a letter. Sent it to the Squirrel at Brindletree. Maybe I could still purchase that sword through the mail.

The next three days passed quickly. Rachel texted Caleb as soon as she got here. He let us know it would be a while before we saw him. I spent a lot of time practicing my social drinking skills. Bernie spent most of her time batmanning around the neighborhood, watching folk from rooftops.

The only time I saw her was when she showed up to sing with us. Cal joined the group too. He borrowed a lute from Lush and played fairly well. Once we were done she’d disappear into the night again.

Cal and I got to be pretty close. For the most part it was just the two of us. Any time I asked him what he was doing here he just said something like ‘I always wanted to see Swordfall,’ or ‘there is someone I need to meet.’

We took to walking the streets of the city at night together. After that first night, few cutpurses or thieves tried anything with us. We’d earned a reputation that preceded us. The city was full of life, teeming with people even at night. Art was everywhere. Graffiti covered the walls. Flowers bloomed in pots from windows. Posters peeled from brick.

One particular bit of graffiti amused me. It said ‘Raider is Luke’s father!” Someone had painted a slash through ‘Raider’ and scribbled the words ‘spoiler’ underneath it.

On the fourth day, the king showed up.

Caleb walked in with a man in armor, and a prim woman in smartly tailored robes, who I guessed was Braelyn. He himself had beautiful pale blue and white armor, with a sculpted lion at the throat of his breastplate. A massive two handed sword hung from his hip, and a blue cape swished the floor when he walked.

In some ways he was hardly different than he looked when we last met. His sculpted features and powerful build seemed the same. His face creased with mirth when he saw us. In other ways he was very different. His beard grew thick with salt and pepper, and a widow's peak started to show at the edge of his well trimmed hair.

I stood.

“Caleb,” I said.

The man in armor stepped in front of him.

“Your majesty,” he corrected.

I bowed ever so slightly.

“Of course,” I said. “Your Majesty.”

I had never been in the presence of royalty. But then again, it was hard to think of him as royalty. Last I saw him he was an EMT.

Caleb waved his escort off. The woman’s eyes narrowed, and she typed something into her slate.

“Zach,” he held his hand out. I took it, and he gripped my shoulder with the other. He had the good sense not to pull me into a hug, what with the lion on his armor. But I felt the warmth of his greeting either way.

Cal cleared his throat. Caleb’s escort bristled.

“Who is this?” Caleb asked.

“The Ranger,” he said.

“The Ranger,” I said, backing him up.

We sat and shared an Ale. Rachel was there too but they’d already been introduced.

When I pulled out my slate, I noticed that I’d leveled up. I chose bard again, because somebody had to keep these people alive. That meant that I was Bard 4. I was finally able to allocate attribute points.

Caleb’s brown eyes sparkled with interest as he talked to Rachel. In many ways he was the same guy. And damn he was handsome. Now that I wasn’t so focused on Sofia I could recognize that without bitterness. Even without the armor, somebody that handsome had to be someone special. It was just good fortune that he’d come to a place that gave him the opportunity to be a King.

How many other kings were walking around the streets of Austin, their potential unfulfilled?

With a motion of his hand his attendants worked to clear the bar. We sat at a table and spoke in hushed tones. Mostly it was just him and Rachel talking about the political situation in the city. I knew some of this from my social drinking, but much of it wasn’t interesting to me anyway.

I excused myself, and pulled out my slate to finish leveling up. I agonized over where to put my two attribute points. I had multiple options that would increase my power. Which was a good problem to have.

I had two odd stats, one in intelligence and one in constitution. I could round both those out and get new modifiers to them. Constitution was especially attractive. I didn’t want to die. But dexterity would increase my chance to hit with ranged weapons.

I chose Charisma. Not only would it make me more charming, supposedly, and my spells more potent, but I got a damage buff to my weapon attacks thanks to Student of War. My sheet looked like this:

Beznik of the Red Hand the level 2 Fighter and level 4 War Bard

Hit Points 39, Armor Class 18 (chainmail, shield)

STR 12 (+1) DEX 10 (+0) CON 13 (+1)

INT 13 (+1) WIS 10 (+0) CHA 16 (+3)

Items: Adventurers’ Kit (used), Chainmail, Crossbow, Longsword, Shield, Shortbow

Abilities from Fighter: Adrenaline Rush (170% time dilation, double movement speed) and Second Chance (Twice per day heal +25% HP)

Abilities from Bard: Dazzling Strikes (weapons attacks give off sparks, potentially distracting opponents). Inspiring Words (+60% movement speed, 10% instant healing, and +30% extra damage modifier to a party member of your choice). Student of War (extra weapon damage equal to CHA bonus) Spellcasting.

Skills: History, Performance, Persuasion, Social Drinking

Dazzling Strikes was new. Looks like if I was able to get a hit off, I could distract them with sparks. I would have to try this out a bit before I got in combat next, because I didn’t want it to distract me too. I also picked up a spell called ‘command’ and got another use of my second level spells, putting me at three uses of invisibility.

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And then there she was, suddenly, leaning against a wooden pillar and cleaning her nails with a dagger. We’d talked briefly here and there this week, but she’d been distant. I put my slate up and approached Bernadette with what I hoped was confidence, but I could feel my face start to flush.

She gave me a concerned frown. I pointed around a corner into the hallway. Soon it was just the two of us.

“Hey,” I said as my opener, because I’m suave like that.

“Hey? That’s it? You’ve been dodging me all week.”

“No I haven’t.”

“You don’t text. You’re one word only in the group chat. I show up, and all I get is a wave.”

“Well, what do you want me to do?”

“I thought after that night in the tent that maybe we’d, I don’t know, done something.”

“We didn’t?”

“And then Sofia shows up and your eyes basically bug out of your skull—”

“Sofia? I was surprised like everyone else.”

“I mean I know why, she’s got the silver hair and the,” here she put her hands about three inches from her bust, “tits out to here. But I didn’t think—”

I stepped closer to her. I could feel my face get hot, really hot. And my stomach was doing flips. And I felt like maybe I was going to pass out.

You can do it Zachary. Just do something. Do anything.

Oh my god, don’t just stand there!

I swallowed. I breathed out, letting some nerves go.

“What? What was that? Am I boring you?”

“No,” I said, and I lifted her chin with my thumb and forefinger. “Can I kiss you?” I asked, stepping even closer.

“Yeah, sure,” she said.

I kissed her. Her lips were tight at first, and I considered that maybe I had messed up. But then she softened, took a step closer and leaned into me. It was nice. We hadn’t kissed since that night in the tent, but in moments it was like no time had passed at all.

Her hands balled into my shirt, and she pulled me closer, and kissed me harder. I put my arm around her.

Then she pushed me away. I was shocked at first, but then there was her mischievous grin, and I knew that whatever it was, I hadn’t messed up.

She leapt onto me, wrapping her legs around me tight. I kissed her again. She kissed me back with force, and my head spun. I walked us into the wall, pinning her. My lips found the skin of her neck and, again, I heard her sigh.

After what felt like an eternity —what felt like no time at all — I stopped and stepped back.

She wiped her mouth with her thumb and finger.

“That was nice,” I said.

“I enjoyed it,” she said with an adorable shrug.

“What were we talking about?”

“I don’t think it mattered,” she said, and then walked out of the hall to sit down with the others.

I will admit that I watched her leave. I am, in fact, just a man.

Pulling out my slate, I texted her a little ‘less than 3’ emoticon. I saw her pull out her slate, shrug and continue talking to Braelyn. Well, hopefully it sent the message I was going for.

In moments, we all piled into three carriages and headed to the palace.

The king had his carriage — Bernie, Cal, and Brealyn had theirs — and I was stuck with Rachel. Not that I didn’t like Rachel, but I was hoping to get more time alone with Bernie.

Once we were on our way I addressed Rachel.

“So what are we getting ourselves into?”

“Oh, so now you’re paying attention,” she said.

“I have been paying attention.”

“Okay, what’s the situation at the castle?”

“Something about a spy? And delegates from the Kingswood?”

“Literally the only thing you’ve done today is get drunk, and kiss Bernie.”

“Hey! I haven’t kissed her in a week! That was a significant development for me.”

I didn't want to mention that it was a bit hypocritical for her to call out my drinking, since she was always drunk off her ass. But I also understood that she was hurting right now, in a way I could never understand.

But what was I supposed to do about that?

Rachel sighed.

“Sorry, man,” she said. “Most important thing is the spy, and that the Kingswood is finally ready to sue for a permanent peace.”

“That’s good.”

“Apparently the Goblin Horde overran the Northern border and the king needs military support.”

The northern border was where we’d just been. My heart sank. Brindletree, Berryhop. G’nash. No, they were fine. They had to be.

It took a second before I was able to focus on what Rachel was saying.

“—seems like Bernie’s play worked.”

“She told you about that?” I asked, head suddenly clearer.

“Somewhat. Said you chased off an elven vanguard from the border.”

“Something like that.”

“Anyway,” she said. “This is some important shit, and you’ve been checked out. And I get the feeling you’ve been checked out for a long time. You’ve got to pay attention, and you’ve got to make sure that we don’t have to watch our backs.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Look, you’re great at supporting us in combat. Bernie says if you hadn’t taken those healing spells, you’d both have died multiple times over. Hell, without you, Captain Wen would have me in a jail cell somewhere waiting for execution. But fighting isn’t everything. We’re headed into the lion’s den of politics and skullduggery, and you need to be an asset, not a liability.”

“I don’t know if that’s fair.”

“You almost got in a fight with our Ranger the day we were checking him out. If you’d scared him off, that ogre may have killed us.”

“I mean. We don’t know that.”

“And if Sophia teleported into this cab and said ‘take me right here,’ would you even wait for me to exit before getting your pants off?”

“That’s out of line.”

“Am I wrong?”

“Maybe. Yes!”

“Oh my god, you said—”

“I don’t know, you’re being weirdly hostile.”

“You have Forrest Gumped your way through this whole damn adventure—”

“You know that movie is actually not very representative of neurodiver—”

“I told you that, you idiot!”

“Oh, shit. You did.”

I was starting to realize that maybe having this conversation while both of us were drunk was probably the wrong move.

“Look,” she said, calming down and sitting lower in her seat. “I can’t—” her voice cracked here. It took her a second to get back on track. “I used to be sharp. Now I’m, you know.” She let out a huge exhale. “I need your help. You can’t be like me. You have to drink less. You have to be better. You have to take our hand every once in a while.”

I didn’t say anything for a time. I just thought about what she’d said. I was so scared all the time. But so was she. And so was Bernie.

I thought back to the scar on Bernie’s back and how she still hasn’t told me how she got it. I thought back to how we still haven’t talked about that night I took a level in bard. Bernie trusted us, but she still wasn’t letting us in. And she sure as hell didn’t trust the rest of this world.

She had to be hanging on by a thread. We all were.

I had to step up. But I wasn’t sure I knew how. How do you get good at stuff that wasn’t just killing?

I relied too much on what my stupid character sheet told me. My sheet told me I was good at killing and drinking and being charming. But people aren’t just three things. I had to get better, had to be better.

“I don’t know if I know how to do it,” I said.

“I didn’t either until I proved to myself I could. You have to win our trust. You have to show up.”

Nobody believed in me back home. Bernie believed in me. She didn’t seem to believe in anything else but she believed in me. And now Rachel did too. She always had.

What was I going to do about that?

Man, was I suddenly tired.

“Well at least we can get some rest at the castle,” I said.

“That’s just it,” Rachel said. “The castle is dangerous. Remember—”

Commotion cut in. Screams. The clash of swords. A notification popped up on my slate.

New Quest: Kill the minotaur.

A roar split the air.

Welp. Time to show these people I’m not scared.

I leapt out the window of the carriage. In front of the other stalled carriages was something like a hundred skeletons. They seemed to be pouring into the street from the left — the cemetery.

How many dead were in a cemetery of a city of a hundred thousand?

Purple fire belched from the empty sockets of their skulls. Most had chunks of brick or stone. I saw some clubs. A couple had weapons and armor, ancestral weapons, likely.

Caleb had his sword loose. It glowed with a pale blue light that flashed brighter when he swung.

“Begon! Back to your eternal rest!” He said, then swinging and shattering the bodies of two skeletons in a single blow.

I’d learned a bit about him from the folk in the city. With every swing of his sword he proved his legend true.

This was the Thunder on the Mountain, the Lion’s Roar, the Cleaver of the Hill. This was the man that single handedly defeated the orc horde, and held back two other nations for fear of his wrath. The man was good at his job.

And he had help. The knight fighting next to him was good. And an arc of lighting spiraled out from the outstretched palm of Braelyn.

I ran to catch up with him. Bernie ran next to me.

“Ocultarse!”

She winked out of view.

Rachel came barreling up from behind me.

“You see the notification?” I yelled.

“Yep!”

“That means the adds are just a distraction.”

And sure enough. From the cemetery gates came the minotaur — twelve feet tall, with horns that reached higher. He was a big boy.

“Ho, monster!” Caleb yelled. “That one is mine!” he pointed at the minotaur. “Give me space for my work!”

I planned on doing just that.