The first thing I noticed was the scratch of rough cotton sheets against my skin, the kind of fabric that reminded you that comfort was a luxury I hadn’t paid for. From somewhere below, laughter and music leaked through floorboards that creaked with distant footsteps. The air carried a peculiar mix of stale ale and burning candles.

I opened my eyes. My head throbbed in sync with the bass notes floating up from below. I looked around. I was lying on a mattress that had seen better days.

That's when I saw her. A head of blonde hair spilling across the edge of my bed, catching the dim blue light from the wall crystals. Estella. She'd fallen asleep bent forward in a wooden chair, her head resting on crossed arms at the edge of my mattress. Even unconscious, she maintained a dancer's poise – somehow making that awkward position look graceful.

Before I could stop myself, my hand moved toward her head. Some dormant subroutine in my brain wanting to... what? Pat her like a pet? Smooth that hair away from her face? I froze mid-gesture as she stirred, a small noise rumbling in her throat. My hand snapped back fast. That was close. Too close.

Her usual vibrant performance attire was replaced with a simple white shirt and dark pants, though her chakrams were still secured at her waist. A half-empty potion bottle sat on the bedside table, its contents giving off a faint herbal scent. Next to it lay a damp cloth, spotted with dried blood. My blood, presumably. She must have spent hours tending to me. Somehow, the realization of her kindness made me uncomfortable. I wasn’t used to owing people.

Estella's eyes fluttered open, immediately brightening with that intensity that made me wonder if she had some hidden Light affiliation. “Noctus, you’re awake!” She straightened in her chair, wincing slightly at what must have been a terrible crick in her neck. "I was starting to think I'd have to kiss you awake like in those silly fairy tales."

"Pretty sure it’s usually the other way around," I muttered, trying to sit up and immediately regretting it.

“Hey, gender equality!” She laughed, but her eyes tracked my movement with concern. "How are you feeling? You suddenly passed out in the sewers. We had to carry you out.”

"Still feeling weak but I’ll get better." I glanced around the familiar room. "Moonless Tavern?"

"Good guess." She cocked her head, curious. "How'd you know?"

I gestured vaguely at our surroundings. "The constant bass line that makes you think the place is about to cave in. The smell of whatever the barkeeper calls his 'special brew.' The fact that I can hear at least three different couples either fighting or making up through these paper-thin walls." I managed a weak smirk. "Also, the giant 'Moonless Tavern - Room 4' sign right above the door."

That earned me a playful swat, which she thankfully aimed at the bed rather than my exhausted self. "And here I thought you were being all clever and observant." Her expression softened slightly. "Tirion and Lysa are resting in their room. Her shadow magic saved our skins back there, but it drained her pretty badly."

"They're okay though?"

"Better than you." She stood up, stretching with a dancer's natural grace. "I should let them know you're awake. And..." A familiar mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. "We should celebrate! I want to see you dance."

"I'm still recovering," I protested. "I don't think dancing is medically advised."

"Then you can watch me dance." She was already moving toward the door, that boundless energy returning. "Besides, what better way to heal than with good music, better company, and the worst ale in the Undercity?"

"Pretty sure actual healing potions would be better."

"Where’s the fun in that!" She called over her shoulder. "Come on down when you’re ready. Don't you dare try to escape.”

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I descended the creaking stairs into the Moonless Tavern's common room. It was filled with people and activity, a perfect representation of an entertainment district, if you ignored the occasional glimpse of fangs, scales, and pointed ears among the patrons.

The band in the corner was playing something with too many strings and not enough rhythm, but the crowd didn't seem to mind. A three-armed guitarist traded solos with what looked like a wolfman playing a violin, while a dragonkin with miniature wings kept beat on drums. The Undercity was truly diverse indeed.

Where are they? I scanned the room with Inspect and the interface helpfully highlighted points of interest:

Suspicious Card Game (Likely Rigged) Secret Entrance Behind Bar (Requires Lockpicking) Wanted Poster (Your face is not on it... yet) Party Members (3) - Table Near Stage

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

I looked to the stage and spotted them.

"Over here!" Estella's voice cut through the cacophony, her arm waving with enough enthusiasm to qualify as a dance move. She'd changed back into her performance outfit.

Tirion and Lysa occupied the other side of the table with Tirion's bunny ears twitching occasionally to the beat while Lysa had a glass of what looked like wine rather than ale.

"Look who finally decided to join the land of the conscious," Tirion said as I approached, his shield propped against the table leg. "How's the head?"

"Still attached." I eased myself into the empty chair, trying not to wince. "Thanks to you three."

"Mostly thanks to Lysa," Estella corrected, signaling a server. "The path back was paved with monsters but her shadow magic kept them off us while we carried you."

Lysa's ears colored slightly at the praise. "It was nothing. Though..." she hesitated, sharing a look with Tirion. "We should discuss what happened. That masked man who trapped us, the monsters … "

"Food first," Estella interrupted, as a server arrived with plates of something that smelled surprisingly edible. "Strategy meetings go better on full stomachs. House special for everyone! Don't worry about the cost – it's on the house tonight."

The server laid out steaming plates in front of each of us, the aroma made my stomach remind me how long it had been since I'd eaten. Steam rose from what looked like some kind of meat and vegetable stew.

Lysa and Tirion bowed their heads, closing their eyes in prayer. "Thank you for the food," Lysa said softly.

"Eat up!" Estella pushed a plate toward me. "The chef's secret recipe restores more HP than a health potion. Though..." she leaned in conspiratorially, "don't ask what's in it. Some mysteries are better left unsolved."

I took a bite. It was surprisingly good. My status window showed a small HP recovery from the meal, whatever was in that secret recipe was working. The warmth spread through my chest, easing some of the lingering aches from our sewer adventure.

The tavern's atmosphere had shifted while we ate. The terrible band from earlier had been replaced by someone who knew which end of an instrument to hold. Even the ale, despite tasting like actual piss, was starting to grow on me. Or maybe that was just the HP regeneration talking.

I found myself watching my companions, noticing the little things. Tirion thought he was being subtle, carefully nudging the spicier portions of his meal onto Lysa's plate when she glanced away.

She definitely noticed. I caught the slight smile she hid behind her wine glass, but she was contented to let him think he was being clever. The food and drink had brought color back to everyone's cheeks, washing away some of the tension from our sewer ordeal. Maybe that's what gave Estella her next idea.

As the plates emptied, she kept eyeing Tirion's ears with growing interest, until finally she couldn't contain herself anymore. "You know what would look absolutely perfect?" she said, leaning forward with a dangerous gleam in her eyes...

Tirion's ears twitched nervously, folding back against his head. "Whatever you're thinking-"

"Just one braid," Estella insisted, her fingers wiggled mischievously. "Think how cute it would look!"

Tirion leaned away, dodging Estella's attempt to grab his ears. "My ears are not for decorative purposes. They're highly sensitive sensory organs that-"

"That would look absolutely adorable with tiny braids," Estella finished, making another grab. Tirion ducked, nearly knocking over his ale.

"Lysa," Tirion appealed to his partner, "Please tell her this is inappropriate."

Lysa took a deliberate sip of wine, failing to hide her smile. "I don't know... I've always wondered what you'd look like with braided ears."

"Betrayal!" Tirion cried in mock despair.

"See? Even Lysa agrees," Estella grinned. "Come on, just one little braid. I'll add a ribbon-"

"No ribbons!" Both ears shot straight up in alarm.

"Fine, no ribbons," Estella conceded. "But what about those little silver bells they sell in the market district? They'd make such a lovely tinkling sound when you fight-"

I couldn't help but snort at that. "Might be tactically advantageous. All the tinkling would help keep the enemy's attention on you."

"Not you too," Tirion groaned, using his shield to block another of Estella's attempts. "I thought knights were supposed to have each other's backs."

"Oh, we do," I agreed. "Which is why I think you should let her braid at least one ear. For party unity."

"I am a warrior of the Shadow Lord," Tirion protested with wounded dignity. "I do not tinkle in battle."

"Think of it as a signaling tool," Estella wheedled. "We could coordinate attacks based on ear-jingles. One tinkle means 'attack,' two tinkles means 'retreat'-"

"Three tinkles means Tirion has lost all dignity,'" Tirion finished dryly. But his ears had relaxed from their alarmed position, now twitching only occasionally in amusement.

"Your dignity will survive one tiny braid," Lysa said softly, her eyes dancing. "You survived wearing that flower crown at the festival, after all."

"Lysa!" Tirion's ears went completely flat. "You swore never to mention that!"

"There was a flower crown?" Estella's eyes lit up like she'd just discovered a treasure chest. "Oh, you have to tell me everything-"

"More ale!" Tirion announced loudly, signaling frantically for the server. "We need much more ale. Immediately. Right now. Before any more stories about flower crowns can be told."

I sat back, watching them banter. Somehow, I couldn’t help but enjoy moments like this.

"So, what are you two up to next?" Tirion asked between bites, deftly avoiding another of Estella's attempts at his ears. "Besides harassing innocent bunny-kins."

"I thought we'd practice our new battle coordination system," Estella grinned as she held out two silver bells. "Now stop struggling-"

"Actually," Tirion interrupted as he shared a quick glance with Lysa. "We were thinking... if you're both free tomorrow, maybe you'd like to visit our place?"

"Your house?" Estella practically bounced in her seat. "I didn't even know you two had a proper house! I always imagined you living in some spartan warrior monastery or something."

Lysa smiled softly. "It's nothing grand. Just a small place in the Shadow District. But..." she hesitated, then continued with unusual warmth, "it would be nice to have friends over."

"We could discuss our next moves somewhere more private," Tirion added. "And Lysa makes an excellent spiced tea."

"As long as it's better than this ale," I said, pushing away my mug.

"Oh, it definitely is," Tirion's ears perked up. "Though that’s not a hard target to beat."

"Oww," Tirion cried out as Lysa smacked him in the head.

"Only one way to find out!" Estella declared. She stood up with a flourish that somehow incorporated a little spin. "What time should we come by?"

As they worked out the details, I found myself wondering what a shadow priest's home would look like. Probably lots of dark curtains and ominous candles. Though with Tirion living there too, maybe some carrot-themed pillows?