“How can you only be rank three?” Ekori almost, but not quite, demanded.

Terry looked across the campfire at her. While Jaban and Haresh didn’t chime in, he could see them both looking at him intently and clearly interested in hearing the answer. Terry did a mental facepalm. I should have let them fight the man-goat thing. He’d had a bit of time to think about what he’d done earlier that day during the many hours of silent walking before he’d declared it was time to make camp. He’d actually walked until it was getting dark just to see if one of them would suggest stopping. None of them had seemed to have the nerve to speak up, which was definitely not what he’d been going for. He’d eventually realized the noob mistake he’d made. He hadn’t gotten a clear sense of what was normal.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought that maybe he was a little on the stronger side. Of course, he hadn’t really had anything to compare himself to except monsters, and they weren’t the most talkative bunch. With them, it was nothing but roaring and snarling and nature that was all red in tooth and claw. Or maybe supernature if that was even a thing. He wasn’t sure. For all practical purposes, though, they hadn’t been particularly interested in civilized discourse. When he had come up against people, he’d just fought to win. His life had been on the line after all. Their losses seemed to have more to do with their own weakness than any overwhelming strength on his part. He’d just assumed that he’d gotten lucky and that people outside of the big cities were just sort of on the weak side. But I never actually tested it. I assumed. Like a jackass.

Now, those particular chickens were coming home to roost and crap all over him. Then again, maybe it was more like pigeons in a parking lot full of shiny, freshly-waxed cars. He’d just wanted to deal with the impediment in the road, and now he had these three witnesses who were going to keep asking awkward questions. He could just leave. Dusk didn’t care when or where he slept. Drumstick probably wouldn’t like traveling at night, but the damned chicken-lizard was more risk-averse than an actuary who just survived a plane crash. Of course, leaving meant he couldn’t pump the only semi-sane people he’d met for more information. God damn it. I’m going to have to tell these people something.

“Because that’s what I told the guild to make me,” he finally said having grown weary of the mental debate.

That answer just led to more questions.

“You told the guild to make you that? What does that mean?” asked Haresh.

“It means that I like being a rank three. It’s nice and innocuous.”

“I don’t understand,” said Jaban. “Do you mean you could be rank two?”

Terry shrugged and said, “Yeah, they said something about making me that. I wouldn’t let them.”

“Why?” demanded Ekori, Jaban, and Haresh in unison.

“Because this whole trembling fangirl thing that you three are doing right now is creepy, and I get the feeling that this would be every day if I let them make me rank two. People would expect me to train them, or come save their rutabaga harvest from mutant bunnies, or a bunch of other things I don’t want to do. Nobody expects a rank three to be a hero, though, do they?”

The three adventurers just looked at him in silence for a little while before Haresh’s expression turned into a confused frown.

“Fangirl?” asked Haresh.

“Bunny?” asked Jaban.

“Rutabaga?” asked Ekori.

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Terry sat up a little straighter.

“Wait,” he said. “You seriously don’t have rutabagas here? Root veggie that looks like an oversized turnip and kind of tastes like carrots?”

Haresh and the others traded baffled looks.

“No,” said Jaban. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like that before.”

“Wow, this really is like some kind of hell,” grumbled Terry. “No rutabagas. No storage rings. What a damn rip-off.”

“But why wouldn’t you want to be a hero?” asked Jaban.

“Have you ever met a hero?” countered Terry.

“Well, no, I guess not. Why?”

Terry looked pointedly at Haresh who had a look of understanding on his face. The older man turned to Jaban.

“He’s saying that you haven’t met them because they’re all dead.”

“Exactly,” added Terry. “I mean, I suppose some of them must survive, but I don’t like the odds of being one of those survivors.”

“But what about honor?” asked Jaban while wearing an incongruously wounded expression.

Honor? What the hell does honor have to do with anything? That was a topic about which Terry could honestly say that he’d never given a moment of thought. It wasn’t a word that cropped up all that often in his old world. It was a movie word or something that young masters ranted about in certain types of cultivation novels. It wasn’t something that he’d ever needed to worry about, so he hadn’t.

“I don’t understand the question,” said Terry.

“Don’t you feel honor-bound to defend the innocent? To protect people?”

Terry blinked at the earnest young man for a second, considered his answer, and offered a cheerful, “Nope.”

“But… But… How you can—” spluttered Jaban before he was cut off by Ekori bursting into laughter.

Jaban shot his sister an angry look, while Haresh’s gaze wandered between everyone. Not that Ekori saw any of that. She was laughing so hard she had her eyes squeezed shut and her arms wrapped around her stomach. Terry wasn’t sure why she was laughing, but at least she wasn’t giving him that super-creepy, unblinking stare anymore. The young woman eventually got her laughter under control enough to reach up and wipe at her eyes. She saw her brother glowering at her and almost seemed to lose control again but managed to catch herself.

“You’ll have to forgive my brother,” said Ekori. “He’s rather obsessed with the idea of becoming an honorable hero.”

“I’m not obsessed,” said Jaban, his expression turning into something that Terry thought would look more appropriate on the face of a pouty six-year-old boy.

Ekori carried on like he hadn’t said anything.

“That’s all he talked about for years. Honor this and hero that. It’s not entirely his fault, though. The men in our country all suffer from that malady of the mind to one degree or another. I must say that it’s refreshing to meet someone who isn’t trying to think of some way to become famous.”

Terry was a little bemused at the exchange. He offered Ekori a shrug.

“Don’t get me wrong. Being a hero and being honor-bound are fine things,” he said before contemplating the idea for a moment or two. “Well, they’re fine for other people, at any rate. Just not something that I’m interested in.”

“So, you’re a coward,” snapped Jaban.

Ekori’s bright smile vanished. Haresh put a restraining hand on the young man’s arm while shooting a worried look at Terry. Terry lifted an eyebrow at Jaban. He’d read this encounter in lots of books. He knew he was supposed to shoot to his feet with fury in his eyes and defend his sullied name. Then, the righteous young man would goad him into taking on some test to prove the size of his honor boner. Fat chance of that happening. If I wanted to deal with that crap, I’d have joined a frat in college.

“Sure,” said Terry. “Why not? I can be a coward.”

Haresh and Ekori both looked a little surprised at his complete indifference to the insult. Jaban looked dumbfounded.

“What?” demanded the wannabe hero.

“Did you expect me to care what you think of me? Seriously? I met you like five minutes ago. But I tell you what. If you want to go do something brave, I promise to be impressed.”

There was a beat where nothing at all happened, and then Haresh started laughing.

“Why are you laughing?” asked Jaban.

“Because it’s funny, and he has a point. If you’re going to pull that prove your honor thing on someone, you should probably make sure your opinion matters to them,” said a smiling Haresh before the man grew more serious. “You also shouldn’t insult a man who can almost certainly kill you.”

Jaban’s eyes went wide. Terry assumed the guy was getting hit with the realization that he had overstepped rather badly with someone he didn’t really know. Someone who had one shot a man-goat thing that had the other three very nervous. Jaban looked like he didn’t know what to do until his sister leaned in and, in a stage whisper that was clearly meant to carry, offered a nugget of wisdom.

“This is the part where you apologize.”