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CHAPTER 2: WHEN YOU’RE JUST WALKING DOWN THE STREET, AND SUDDENLY YOU’RE A WANTED CRIMINAL… I HATE WHEN THAT HAPPENS!

< MAIN POV >

What do you get when you combine modern human culture with the nearly limitless possibilities of an open fantasy world?

Stuff!

Lots, and lots, and lots, and lots, and lots… and lots… of stuff.

Some good.

Some bad.

Some better left to theory and never mentioned again.

Some better burned to the stake along with their inventor.

In a word like in a hundred: stuff.

Dancing clown puppets, floating ice cream castles, a frog cursed with speech but only in rhymes in German, self-cleaning and self-ironing robes—again, what’s with the need for ironing?—jewellery that doubles as disco balls, colour-shifting shot glasses, homing balloons that follow you around to a slightly discordant rendition of Happy Birthday, alcohol, leg warmers adorned with cute pink unicorn poops, suspiciously broccoli-like vegetables I’m not touching with a ten-and-a-half-foot pole, a failed but interesting attempt at a TV monitor, flying pianos, alcohol, smoothies, cow milk, goat milk, whale milk, demon cow milk, demon goat milk, demon whale milk, demon cow goat whale milk, magic scrolls for every occasion, and also alcohol, magic brooms about as comfortable as a colonoscopy, grilled meat, beauty products with weird and, honestly, pointless properties—

I mean, who needs glowing hair that constantly shifts through every colour of the rainbow?

…

……

………!!!!

“Nooo! Let me go!” I struggle in vain against Thena’s grasp while she effortlessly drags me away from the stall.

“You don’t need that! You already attract enough troubles without looking like a pride parade lighthouse.”

I give up… not without discreetly signalling the vendor that I’d be back.

There are perpetually rocking rocking-chairs—can’t be easy to get off those things—pedicure potions, overpriced dimensionally folding bikes—they’re foldable in case your inventory is full, I suppose?—giant paper boats, blow-up pools, beach towels embroidered with playfully fighting animated kittens—I bought one, along with the matching bikini.

Thena didn’t stop me this time.

Glow sticks—always a hit with kids. I bought six!—books on all subjects, creepy dolls, mugs—there are always mugs—grandma clocks, chatty paintings—I suspect necromancy—friendship bracelets—I suspect mind control—pink crocs—I suspect bad taste—the Surprising Surprise Boxes of Mr Surprise!!—I’m just suspicious—fast-growing plant seeds, tap-dancing shoes for cats, supposedly everlasting soap, toothpaste–

Toothpaste!

“Thank you for your purchase!” I drop the bag of toothpaste tubes inside my inventory. Those fangs ain’t going to keep themselves clean. We cannot have Thena dear get a nasty infection.

I duck under a flying bed—because why not?

Over there, someone is selling bottomless purses that scream if stolen. For an extra gold, you get an option where they’ll bite pickpockets’ hands.

Automated chalks for lazy teachers and demon summoners.

Pet and familiar products—it’s nice… but, really, a pink lacy jacket on a dyrewolf? What sort of monster are you, madam?

Vases, lamps, slippers, knitted pullovers, knitted scarfs, knitted caps, knitted gloves, knitted parkas… It’s still summer, but you never know when an [Ice Phoenix] might show up…

…

Yep.

You never know.

Nail clippers, nail polish, dancing spoons—very unpractical—normal spoons—very boring—magic spoons…… why is that guy selling only spoons?

“SPOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONS!!!”

Eh. Never mind. He’s a weirdo.

Bread rolls, chocolate-covered… Are those bananas? I think those are bananas… or maybe stretched out lemons…

Noodles, rice, pizza, doughnuts, cotton candy, hamburgers, horned bunny skewers (skewered on horned bunny horns), hot dogs, hot cats, hot goats, hot girls walking around in skimpy armou—“Oomph!!”

What was that for? I glare at the half-orc who just bumped me on the head.

Why is she averting her gaze?

…anyway.

Kebab, more noodles, cream puffs, pancakes, noodles, macaroni and cheese balls, corn, noodles again—people do like their festival noodles—pretzels, giant chocolate-chipped cookies, religious zealots prophesying the doom of the world if we don’t convert to the worship of Order— Wait.

.

.

.

.

…

……

………

Is that a giant cookie?!

“COOKIIIIIE!!!” I leap forwards! “……uh?” I don’t understand. What’s going on? I’m running, but my feet can’t find purchase on the ground. And the cookies are getting farther and farther away!

It’s as if some otherworldly force is hauling me away from cookie heaven!

What is this sorcery?!

“Will you stop this nonsense?” I hear a tired voice and the force pulling me increases.

Cookie heaven! Nooooooooooooooooo!

…

……

………Anyway.

People are selling curtains, dies, colourful rugs– Ooooh. That one’s flying…

…and it’s falling.

*crash*

Ouch.

That looks like it hurt.

Don’t buy bargain flying carpets, kids.

Oil lamps, perfumes, toe rings, paper clips—…why?—belt buckles, teddy bears— Awwwwww…

I buy two: a cute one for me, and a mean-looking black armoured one for Thena. She seems circumspect but doesn’t refuse the gift. Point for me!

Dried fruits, salted peanuts—all sorts of snacks, really… a gourd of water held to me by a tired semi-orc–

“Oh. Thank you. …ahhhhhh. That feels good.” Thena takes the gourd back and wipes my mouth with a handkerchief. Somehow, I think she’s got this odd misconception I can’t take care of myself.

I wonder why…

Yeah, I wonder.

I was being sarcastic.

Why?

…

Regardless, I thank her with a big smile. It’s only polite. She looks away again, her brows furrowed broodingly.

She’s very good at brooding.

Bah. If she farted loudly, you’d call it music and praise the smell.

Don’t be crass.

Well, anyway, that water felt good. I was thirsty—and not for blood, for once. Half-vampires still need their human sustenance. I have hunger under control—mostly thanks to a healthy snack-based diet—but I hadn’t noticed I was getting dehydrated. All this running around the festival is quite tiresome, I must say.

Why, I haven’t felt this tired since the last London Marathon!

You went as a spectator.

…crowds exhaust me.

Right.

And my bare feet hurt.

Put on some shoes?

I’d have to buy a pair fitting my new size.

We should check the safe first.

Yeah… Thena’s face is turning scarier every time I spend money.

Plus, there’s bound to be at least one comfortable pair of woman’s shoes in that safe. I’ve dumped so much junk in there over the months. Hopefully, nothing cursed. Tap-dancing until my foot bled once was enough, thank you very much.

Distractedly, I fish a coconut-butterfly-flavoured biscuit from my bag of snacks. I bring it halfway to my mouth before my gaze drifts once more to my companion—who is affected, it seems, by a syndrome of the perpetual frowny face.

I hesitate, then sigh dramatically and reluctantly present her with the biscuit. “Want some?” I want to reinforce that this is a sacrifice for me. Coconut-butterfly is my favourite. I’ve decided.

The semi-orc glances down at me and the biscuit. She frowns, sighs, but still takes the treat and a bite out it. “S’good,” she grunts softly.

“Right?! I wonder how they capture the essence of the butterfly so well in the taste. It’s amazing!”

My enthusiasm is met with a nonplussed shrug and another sigh before Thena turns around and walks away.

“Ah! Wait! Thena! Wait for me!” Juggling my umbrella and the bag of snacks, I jog after the big muscled woman. At least, she’s not hard to pick out in a crowd. She slows down but doesn’t turn around.

“……”

I’m getting worried about Thena. She’s acted increasingly withdrawn since we met up at the fountain. She’s naturally a woman of a few words, so I didn’t immediately pick up on anything abnormal. But now this is pushing it, even for her.

At first, I thought she was upset because I blew up that obnoxious elf boy. But it doesn’t seem to be the case… well, not entirely. Probably not.

I’d hoped the festival would cheer her up. That… was a flop. When she wasn’t picking me up and forcefully carrying me away from stands, she’s been a great, big green mass of brooding discontent hovering over my shoulder like a depressing raincloud.

I don’t get it. Women are supposed to like shopping! I mean, I like shopping, and I’ve been a girl, part-time, for less than a month. Even Yasmin likes shopping, Christ on a Twix!

…

Well, she likes to shop for sports gear.

But that’s beside the point!

Shopping is shopping.

…

Besides, if Thena doesn’t want to shop around, there still are tons of performances to watch: street performances, performances on stages, performances in tents, performances on stage in tents on the street… both intellectual and physical, ranging from slam-poetry battles to high-risk stunts. With her excellent technique and analytical mind, I’d thought Thena would appreciate a good show of skill. However, even the super-fast sword dance of the Cheeky Cheetah Brothers could not break her out of her funk.

At least, she hasn’t brought up the class reseter yet, so there’s that going for me.

Yeah~

...sigh.

I can’t really feel happy about it with my Big Girl in this gloomy state.

It’s throwing me off my game!

I mean, I tried asking if there was anything wrong with her—directly and indirectly. She always waves me off with a grunt or a mumbled excuse. I could press her further—maybe sit her down in a quiet café, or something—and get her to talk… I guess I could.

But do I want to? What if she does open up? What if I can’t cheer her up? Or if I put my foot in my mouth and make her feel even worse? The atmosphere would instantly turn super awkward and uncomfortable. Knowing her, Thena would be ashamed of herself for talking about any weakness, and she’d lock up even tighter. I’d feel guilty. I’d fumble trying to salvage things. Eventually, the awkwardness would drive us apart. I don’t want that.

Nick.

I’m already only keeping her around by a mere thread. She can snap it at any second!

Nick, calm down. You’re hyperventilating.

I can’t handle this level of emotional tension!

Why can’t I just crack a couple of jokes out and make her smile? We’d have a good laugh and move on. It usually works with most people. Why not her? Why must she be so stoic?!

I like it when people smile. Everything is less stressful with a bit of good humour.

I like happiness. I don’t like tension. I don’t like conflict. And I’m not good at complex interpersonal interaction. I don’t get people. Oftentimes, people work themselves into a fit over things that objectively don’t matter. When I try to point that out, they tell me to sod off. When I try to help, they laugh at my suggestions and tell me to stop joking around, that this is serious. When I shrug helplessly, they’re mad at me for not caring. It’s never the right answer. WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME PEOPLE?!?!

NICK!! Nick! Nick, it’s okay. Calm down. Everything’s alright.

Why can’t everyone get along and stop stressing the fuck out over stupid shit!

I don’t know, Nick. Just breathe.

Look at me. I’m fucking happy! Hahaha! And I work hard at it! It’s not easy to ignore all the shit that life throws at you all the time, okay?! Happiness takes work! WORK!!

Shhhh.

It’s hard.

Yes, I know. Come on. Take a deep breath. In. Out. In… Out… In…… Out……

…

…

…

Better?

I think… Thanks.

Don’t mention it. What’s a big sister for?

…

Gosh, this sun is so hot.

Yeah, she really was.

I don’t mean it like that! You’ve got a fluffing one-track mind, Ariel.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

What can I say? I know what I like.

Despite my parasol, and gloves, and sunglasses—and even though I’m not bursting into flames—I’m so weak, it’s like I’m moving through thick jam. My vision is blurry. Noises are mangled together. And my head hurts as if it were caught in a vice pulsing in rhythm with the slow beating of my half-undead heart.

I stumble drunkenly after Thena while she cleaves a trench into the crowd by the sole power of her combined bulk and glare. Her size intimidates people, and her expression is solemn enough to out-gloom an entire graveyard.

I don’t like it.

And I think I might have stayed out in the sunlight for a little too long.

My head feels so heavy.

“Ugh…”

Eventually the ineluctable happens… I slip on a banana peel.

What peel? You tripped on your own foot.

I fall and blindly try to grab onto something. My hand slaps the back of Thena’s armour. She finally stops and, half turning, looks down at me. She doesn’t speak. Uncertainty dulls her ordinarily intense golden eyes. I want to reach into them, grab that uncertainty by the throat and choke it. I would take pleasure in its agony. I wouldn’t listen to his wheezy pleas for mercy.

Things that hurt my Thena must die in a slow and painful death.

Except ourselves.

“Ugh…” My own vision is going in and out of focus. I hate this feeling. I can barely align two coherent thoughts. I haven’t felt this muddleheaded since I tried that bottle Mary offered me for my housewarming… flatwarming? Whatever…

I sniff and rub my eyes with the heel of my hand. “I don’t like it when you’re sad… I don’t know what to do-hoo.” I sobbed at the end, I think. I rest my forehead against her broad armoured back. Mmmh… It’s cold.

How do you move a sad mountain?

I feel so small and useless.

…

I want my bed now.

“Vic—”

“Shush,” I interrupt. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m mad at you right now.” What am I saying? “And don’t look this way.” I bump my forehead against her back. “Don’t move either.” For whatever reason, Thena complies. She stays still, facing forwards. She doesn’t say a word. I wonder what face she’s making. This must be awkward for her. People are giving us glances, thinking they’re being discreet about it—but they also give us a wide breadth.

I guess that answers my question of what face Thena is making: a scary one.

I sniff again and discreetly wipe my blood tears with the collard of my dress. The magic cloth absorbs them without a trace. Thena’s armour glows faintly purple where I pressed my face against it.

How spooky.

“Alright. I’m fine now.” My head is still pounding, but I can’t stand looking so pathetic. I shove the tiredness aside, stretch my mouth into a smile, and skip past the semi-orc, grabbing her hand in passing. “Let’s go. –Oh, look! There’re selling bouncing shoes over there! Come on! Let’s go see!”

But Thena pulls me to a stop. Tensed, I spin to look into her eyes, but they’re eluding my gaze. She retracts her hand from mine and scratches her tusk. “Are… err… Are you sure you’re alright?” Her tone is unsure. Her eyes blink to me before turning away again.

I give myself a one-armed hug and shrug. “…It’s the heat. I’ll be fine if I rest a bit somewhere cool. A… Are you? You’ve been kind of quiet.”

She shrugs.

…

……

……..Yeah.

We got a pair of straightforward EQ powerhouses over here.

Oh, shut up.

Thena proposes we find a teahouse, somewhere out of the way and quiet so I can rest. I’m touched. I can only nod and fish another biscuit from my bag of treats to hide my embarrassment.

My hand goes through empty air.

I glance down at my empty arms.

…

WHERE ARE MY BISCUITS?! –Oh. There they are.

My bag lies fallen on the cobblestone not far away. I guess I dropped it earlier. Scuttling around Thena, I lean down to pick it up.

Now. I probably should have suspected that leaning all the way to the ground while suffering from a magical sunstroke was not a smart move. But I didn’t. And as I bend down, vertigo hits me hard. The ground jumps at me. My eyes are wide open to see it coming. Closing them during a fall is a reflex many painful VR battles quickly beat out of me.

Nose? Meet Pavement. Pavement? Nose.

This sucks.

“Oh, hop there. Careful, M’Lady.”

The ground suddenly stops rising— I mean, I stop falling. Gravity is a complex matter of perspective. An iron grip ensnares my arm. Someone pulls me up—someone whose hand is unmistakeably smaller and hairier than Thena’s.

Then the smell hits me: an acrid, pungent potpourri of dumpster fire, ungroomed wet fur, and something inexplicably reminiscent of over-seasoned chicken soup.

My head snaps up, and I come face-to-snout with a most raggedy foxkin. His complexion reminds me of day-old roadkill, with his tawny fur lacking shine and patchy in places. A serrated tear cuts almost halfway through one of his large triangular ears. A soiled rag, wrapped obliquely around his head, covers his left eyes and part of an ugly scar. The dirty monk robe he wears sags loosely on his bony frame, patched-up and caked with dried mud, dead leaves and twigs, and littered with suspicious stains.

A fly lands on one of the stains. It instantly falls off, dead.

I immediately snatch my hand back and leap away, cradling my arm against my chest and checking my interface for a poisoned status.

Reassured, I glare at the fox.

Who’s that guy?

I have no idea.

Where did he come from?

Again, no clue.

The raggedy beastkin dips his head in apology. “Ah, sorry ‘bout startlin’ ya, M’Lady. An’ ‘bout the smell. I split soup on me robe just e’rlier.” His canine smile reveals a mouthful of yellowed fangs, several missing. Despite his words, his tone doesn’t broadcast much contrition. In fact, he sounds irritatingly smug—and oddly posh, regardless of his silly accent.

He has the voice of an educated man persuaded he’s nailing a peasant impersonation. My Quest NPC radar is tingling… or maybe my role-player radar. I get those two confused fairly often.

I blink fast and repeatedly, my thoughts still muddled by the heat.

The fox tilts his head. “Are you alright, M’lady? You should beware. It’s unwise for your kind to get too excited in this sun. I’m Archibald, by the way. But me friends call me Pops. Ol’ Pops. It is so very nice to meet you.”

He offers a hand. I shake it by reflex. “Victoria,” I deadpan. My brain is too busy playing catch up to work out emotions. Archibald bows and his black, fuzzy lips brush against the back of my hand. It tickles.

“Victoria…” He murmurs, like tasting the name. “Truly an immense pleasure to make you acquaintance, Milady Victoria.”

Hoy, dude. Your accent is fluctuating.

Why do we keep attracting weirdoes?

It’s a gift.

A sudden strong pull yanks me backwards, away from the fox. Stumbling, I find myself standing by Thena’s side once more, her hand firmly clutched on my shoulder. How forceful… I think I might be blushing.

Thena’s raspy contralto growls next to me. “Who the hell are you?” She glares daggers at the suspicious smelly foxman. She still has not removed her hand from my shoulder.

Now I’m definitely blushing.

Archibald provides us with his best used-car salesman's grin. “Me? Ma’am, I’m just yer jolly neighbourhood beggar.” He lifts a battered metal cup attached to the piece of string that serves as his belt.

“Bull–”

*crash!*

A sudden loud ruckus interrupts whatever niceties my Thena was about to say. Everyone’s heads swivel towards the noise: mine, Thena’s, Archibald’s… Even Toto stops pretending to sleep and perks up. Honestly, I’d completely forgotten that arrogant stuffed reptile soul was still with us.

I could have stood that ignorance lasting longer.

The crowd collectively follows the motion. The ambient noise dampens for a few breaths as people try to make out what’s happening. Then speculative conversations break out. My short size places me below the average line of sight. However, the street is thankfully slopped enough that I can more or less see in that direction—albeit it requires some jumping in place.

Never before have I had such an appreciation for my real body’s noteworthy verticality.

Boing. Boing.

What?

Oh, nothing. But you lack support.

I know that. Thena is a tank, and I’m a squishy combat mage. We need some kind of healer, at least. What does it have to do with anything?

Eh. Don’t worry about it.

O… kay?

You’re cute.

………?

Well, anyway.

A fair distance away, a large red stall finishes collapsing—quite evidently the primary source of the ruckus. More interestingly, from the stall and its angry, fist-brandishing owner, a commotion is fast creeping up the street in our direction. People are being shoved by something that’s shifting roughly and rapidly through the crowd—like a rowdy killer rabbit in the tall grass. More alarmingly, a trio of city guards is chasing the disturbance… right towards us.

Oh, fuck. Not again.

Call me small-minded or prejudiced, but my belief is that guards running towards my general location is never a good thing. Ever. Every time it happens, a twitch overtakes my left eye and bad premonitions flood my mind.

It is as if a voice in my subconscious is shouting, “Nope, nope, nope!”

Nope, nope, nope!

Okay. Alright. We’re moving. No way am I staying here to get caught up in… whatever this is. I have enough problems cleaning up my own messes, thank you very much! My head turns as if on a swivel, looking for an escape route. There! An alleyway branches out from the main street, not too far away, just past the ring of people that has formed around us

“This way!” I reach for Thena’s hand.

But I’m already too late. The disturbance is upon us.

A pair of identical petite gorgons bursts at full speed into our small clearing in the crowd.

“!!!”

“!!!”

They lurch to a halt, startled surely to be out in the open, and gape at us.

“???”

“???”

“???”

“???”

We gape right back.

In Untold Tales, the developers chose to give the gorgons thick snake tails instead of legs, similar to lamias. However, where a lamia’s upper half looks perfectly human, the gorgons’ skin is coarse, tough, and coloured in a shade that compliments their scales. Their hair is, of course, a wriggling nest of hissing snakes, and while their gaze doesn’t systematically turn people to stone, their race is extremely proficient at curse magic.

They also make for great sculptors—proof that the devs have a sense of humour.

These two gorgons are pretty short for their kind. They look younger than many gamers would be comfortable playing as. I mean, not everyone’s as thick-skinned as Cookie. They could be NPCs, but gorgons are notoriously protective of their young and would never leave a pair of gorgonlings to roam the city unsupervised.

Their scales are dull, dark and mossy green, nicely matching a dried thyme skin tone. Both are wearing loose tribal robes decorated with necklaces of fangs, armbands of feathers and other hand-made trinkets. Even some of their snake-hairs have wooden collars looking akin to hair beads.

They look absolutely, disturbingly identical—down to their movements perfectly mirroring each other’s.

That’s… err…

Creepy.

Yes. That’s the word I was looking for.

And they keep staring at us unblinkingly.

And we stare back.

They stare at us.

We stare at them.

They stare at us.

We stare—

Will you stop it?! The guards are coming!

Oh, right! They are!

The gorgons chose that exact moment of distraction to jump at me. I tense for a fight. But they merely slither past me, and each grabs one of my arms from behind.

“Big Sister!! Please save us!”

“Save us.”

“Eh?” Flabbergast, I look over my right shoulder at the gorgon who shouted, then over my left to the other who nods solemnly in agreement. “EHHH?!”

And of course—of course—the three guards arrive right in time to hear everything. Of course. One of them, a tall, blond and handsome human male, steps forwards and points dramatically at me. “You, nightkin! Are you in cahoots with these petty vandals and malefactors?!”

…I’m sorry? Nightkin? Is he talking to me?

He’s pointing right at you.

Yes. But he talks funny, so I’m not sure.

And for fun’s sake! This was supposed to be a cosy and quiet shopping trip! Why are we getting in trouble with the Guard all of a sudden?! I thought we agreed to leave our sordid past of antagonising law enforcement behind us.

I agreed to nothing.

The blond guard retracts his accusatory finger and rests his hand in warning on the pommel of his sheathed sword. Thena tenses. Her fists clenched. I’m touched. Really, I am. And I’m also happy to see some fire return to her eyes…

BUT

She does have a nice butt.

…Is your only purpose to dish out mediocre one-liners?

Is your only purpose to lampshade me?

Like I was saying: I’m happy Thena’s feeling a little better, HOWEVER, I’d rather not get blacklisted by the guard so soon after regaining my anonymity. Petty vandalism and malefactory are all well and fun. But sneaking around all the time to avoid arrest by authorities and bounty hunters becomes old fast.

On the semi-orc’s shoulder, Toto bares his tiny fangs in a bloodthirsty puppy grin.

You too, stop that. You couldn’t choose a worst time to suddenly become helpful.

…

……

………

Wait. Since when am I the voice of reason in this group?!

The Matrix’s glitching.

I told you to stop with the one-liners.

Technically, that’s a pop culture reference.

I feel the beginning of a headache.

Only the beginning?

Why, yes.

It’s my headache beginning to have a headache!

Groaning, I free my arms from the gorgons’ grasp and raise my hands soothingly, in an attempt to defuse the situation.

Boring. We can take them. There’s only three of them.

That’s not the point.

I paste a disarming smile on my face. “Look, sir guard. I don’t know—”

“HAH!! You silly meathead human!”

The guard’s and my eyes bulge simultaneously when the right-hand side gorgon loudly interrupts my defusing attempt. I turn my head to stare unblinkingly at her, trying to convey my utmost desire for her to shut up!

She winks and gives me a thumbs up.

I sigh in relief. Thank the gods. She understood.

The gorgon then slithers past me, crosses her arms and lifts her chin. “You, disgusting human-pig! You think you and your weakling friends can stand against our Big Sister? You’re so stupid! She’ll bite your head off and drink your corpses dry! Get lost while you still can! Humph!”

SHE DIDN’T UNDERSTAND A THING!!!!

And stop grinning at me like you’re expecting praises! Bad gorgon! Bad!!

Who are you, people?!

Oh, this is golden. *sounds of popcorn*

If my skin were capable of going any paler, I’d be transparent right now. In fact, that seems like a good idea. Can’t I disappear? No? Well, I’ll settle for standing frozen with a comically horrified expression then.

I’d call it constipated.

On the contrary, I feel like I just shat my pants.

Classy. And we’re wearing a dress.

Semantic technicalities.

...

Judging by the guard’s expression, my negotiation window has been terminated.

I guess some things are simply fated not to be.

And because Life hates me—she does, you know?—another guard suddenly steps up, startling me out of my attempt at planning an alternative survival route. All eyes converge to the woman, who’s unusually buff for an elf. Her metal armour is tight around her muscular frame, highlighting the contour of each of her powerful abs—which, I’m told, is terrible armour design.

Could be. Could not.

But honestly, who cares?

Her face is flushed with righteous anger.

Rawr.

Down, girl.

Unlike her lexicomane colleague, the yummy elf doesn’t bother with a warning. She unsheathes her swords and points it at m— …at Archibald?

“YOU!!! You’re the Panty Snatcher of the East Market!!”

“……” (Me)

“……” (Athena)

““……”” (Gorgon sisters)

“……” (Male guard)

“……” (Third guard whose name, race and gender are not important)

“““………””” (Crowd)

Dozens of judgemental stares silently converge towards the foxman.

Unflappable, Archibald’s one good eye squints at the tip of the sword tickling his snout. His gaze then shifts to me. “Err… My Lady Victoria, your humble servant requires your benevolent rescue from this long-eared barbarian.”

......why you?!

“So you are in cahoots with that morally bankrupt felon as well, nightkin!”

“I’m not! Shut up, Thesaurus!”

“How do you know my name?!”

“……”

…seriously?

But I can see my proclamation of innocence is lost on him, while the elf woman is still hungering for fox skewers. The third guard, oddly, looks very unconcerned by it all. But I don’t trust the glint in their eyes.

Wuuuuuuuuh! My quiet shopping trip! Give it back!

I’m going to skin that mangy fox and use his pelt to wipe our dirty shoes.

You can’t.

Why not?

We do not have any shoes.

…a rug then.

He’s far too dirty for any of that.

“YOU—!!” the elf snarls. She doesn’t appreciate being ignored. How short-tempered. Even Thena is looking at her like ‘chill out, gal’. She raises her sword. I can already picture Archibald’s head flying in the air.

This is going to be fun. *more popcorn noises*

Thankfully(?), before bloodshed can occur, Thesaurus places a placating hand on his female colleague’s shoulder. She shoots him a glare but reluctantly backs down. Her eyes keep boring holes in Archibald’s thick skull.

The human guard turns to us with a stern expression. “I’m demand that all of you to accompany us to the guardhouse. Please come quiet—” *splotsh*

…splotsh?

“““……......””””

Dead silence follows the blob of green goo that just splashed on the guard’s face. The slime ball slowly slides down and drops to the ground, leaving small gooey bits behind. One hangs from his nose like a translucent drop of snot. His eyes are round, bloodshot saucers staring blankly ahead. I can almost see the wheels turn in his mind as he tries to process what just happened.

I don’t reproach him the slowness. I’m rather amazed myself. Thena, Archibald and I direct disbelieving stares at the gorgon twins. The right one merrily high-fives the other, who accepts it placidly. “Good aim, sis!”

“Umu.”

She laughs evilly at Thesaurus. “That’s right, you pathetic human, you should run! Flee before Big Sis joins in, or you’ll be sorry!”

“STOP BRINGING ME INTO THIS!!!”

“You…” My ears twitch at a whisper and bring my attention back to the guard.

A whisper makes my ears twitch and brings my attention back to the guard. He reaches for his sword with rusty mechanical movements. “You…” The purple shade of his face cannot be healthy. “You… YOU ARE ALL UNDER ARREST!! YAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” He charges, eyes wild and foaming at the mouth.

“IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIH!!!!” I scream.

Spinning on my heels like a top, I grab Thena by the wrist and starts running towards the alley I spotted earlier. To my relief, she doesn’t resist my pull. In fact, she scoops me up and carries me. She must have noticed the alley as well. Our speed notably increases right away. The crowd parts before us, unwilling to stand in the way of the massive half-orc woman. I peek at her face, but her expression is an unreadable mask of focus.

“HALT THIS INSTANT, FOUL MISCREANTS!! STOP, IN THE NAME OF THE KING!! STOOOOOOP!!” Behind us, angry shouts and clanking of armours announce the guards are giving chase. “YOU UNCIVILISED KNAVES ARE ALL UNDER ARREST!! EVRY SINGLE ONE OF YOU!!! UNDER ARREST!! GET BACK HERE, REPROBATES!! DESIST ESCAPE AND PREPARE TO BE APPREHENDED!! YAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

How did this happen?! I only wanted this to be a nice, fun date…

This isn’t happening. Nope. I’m not being hunted down by guards after just one day of being back to civilisation under a new, record-free and reformed citizen.

Reformed. Right.

Nanananah! I’m not listening!

Yeah. Real mature there.

Shut up. Thena is carrying me to a jeweller. Yes. A jeweller. Or a tailor. She will buy me a cute new dress—and shoes! I want to be treated like a princess! Then we’ll go to a nice restaurant with an all-candy menu and enjoy a quiet, candle-lit, candy-based dinner. She’ll buy me something sweet for dessert, like a cake.

To help the candy go down, I assume.

Obviously. And afterwards, we’ll continue with our date under the moonlight and—

“This way. Follow me.” A nasal voice pops my bubble of denial.

I glare down. Archibald is jogging lightly beside us. He looks calm—as if this were just casual stroll and being chased by the city guard wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. And for him, it probably isn’t, if those panty theft claims are verdict.

…I can somehow relate.

To the panty snatching?

Not that.

I’ll still punch that fox in the snout.

“Young lady?” Archibald glances up, ears tilted quizzically.

I’m not talking to you.

“HALT!! CEASE THIS GETAWAY!!” The noisy guard is gaining ground. The others as well, I assume. I’m not sure I want to turn around and check how close they are. Thena might be a decent runner—and I like to think my weight isn’t enough to slow her down—but speed isn’t her strongest attribute. I don’t trust this fox further than I can throw him. But if he claims he can lead us to safety instead of the kingdom jails, I’m willing to take a leap of faith.

I don’t like the kingdom jails. Their food is terrible, don’t get me started on room service. I have a theory, that the meals are the real punishment. Incarceration is just pettiness on the City Guard’s part.

To follow the fox or not to follow? It’s not my decision anyway. I’m just being carried around like luggage at this point. Not that I’m complaining. “Mmmmmh…” I nuzzle Thena’s neck.

I feel her nod. The trickster foxkin speeds up, completely belying his sickly appearance. He takes the lead of our little convoy and turns sharply right at the next intersection. Thena barely makes the corner, drifting like a race car. We veer left soon after, then right, twice, and left again.

Turns succeed to turns. I’d say I have a pretty decent sense of orientation, but even I am utterly lost by now. We’ve reached some of the least reputable, most unsavoury parts of the capital. And we’re still running, blindly following this suspicious, dirty, smelly, underwear-thieving—allegedly—foxman deeper and deeper into the darker, lawless bowels of Start City.

Will we be fine? I wonder.

Eh. Probably not. We’re all likely to die slowly and painfully in very humiliating ways.

…Business as usual then?

Business as usual.

* * *

[ SIMON RENOLDS ]

“Sebastian!” Simon called out without breaking eye-contact with the white furry beast in front of him. Pale baby blue eyes stared back at him, filled with animosity.

The butler stepped out of the bedroom, holding a folded shirt. He readjusted his manacle. “Yes, sir?”

“What is… this?” Simon pointed at the reed basket next to his open laptop. An indignant mewl rose from it, mixing with the incessant beeping of incoming reports. 

“A white Persian, sir. As per your request.”

“Sebastian…” the young man tried to sound patient, moderately succeeding. “When I made my demand, I’d assumed we had the tacit understanding I required an adult cat. This… is a kitten.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I cannot be taken seriously as an evil mastermind with a kitten! What sort of Bond villain has a small fluff ball sitting in his lap?!”

“Young Master, I was assured at the animal shelter this specimen is a most maleficent and vile creature,” the butler answered flatly.

Simon searched the older man’s stoic face for any trace of trickery. Finding no crack in Sebastian’s professional façade, his gaze returned to the bundle of white fur. “Vile and maleficent… this?” He poked the kitten nose dubiously.

“Meow!” Tiny but sharp teeth dug into his finger.

Simon’s right eyebrow slowly rose. He stared down at the creature that had swallowed his fingertip. Clear blue eyes glared back in what was probably the meanest expression any kitten on Earth could hope to muster.

A bright sinister smile slowly bloomed on Simon’s lips. “It’ll do. Good work, Sebastian.” He pulled his finger back and patted the hissing kitten’s head. A clawed swipe at his hand only made the young man laugh. “Good work indeed.”

“Thank you, sir.” After a formal bow, the butler readjusted his monocle again. He made to return to his duties, the chuckle in his eyes never spreading to the rest of his wrinkled face.

“Oh, and… Sebastian?”

The butler paused in the bedroom doorway. “Yes, sir?”

“Am I up to date with my tetanus shots?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, good… Good.”

“……”

“That’ll be all, Sebastian.”

“Very well, sir.”

The butler left the room, pretending to ignore his master’s soft cooing and evil chuckles.

* * * * *