Symon had never been a big drinker, but he felt confident in saying this beer wasn't the greatest. It managed to taste both too bitter and also watered down at the same time. He much preferred the cider he'd had earlier.

Atabek and Safiya didn't seem to mind it, judging by how quickly they were going through it, but Aslan was sipping his at a more reasonable pace.

"So," Symon asked, "did anything interesting happen while I was gone?" He'd asked a similar question of the other two, but he'd prefer to hear an answer from Aslan. Not only could they have an actual conversation that wasn't mostly relegated to pointing at things, but he was also the more responsible of the bunch. While there wasn't strictly a group leader, Aslan was in all but name.

"Nothing much. There has been no trouble with the locals, and Durga the hearth keeper was welcoming. Of our coin, at least."

"Oh, that reminds me! I got paid by the mayor, so here's your cut," Symon said, reaching for his pouch of coins.

Aslan waved both his hands dismissively. "Please, please, that is not necessary. You have fought alongside us, and we all consider you a friend."

"Nuh-uh," Symon said, his scathing intellectual argument dismantling Aslan's points. "You covered for me at the tailor, and also for these drinks. Plus, all those sparring lessons that helped me get that Swords passive." He picked out two gold coins from his pouch, leaving eight in there plus a smattering of lower denominations, and rolled them across the table. Each gold coin was, very roughly, worth around a hundred dollars. "If you can't bear to keep them, just use 'em to buy the others some more drinks. We all deserve a break from fighting monsters and shitting in holes."

"Shitting in holes!" Safiya and Atabek said in unison. They clinked their mugs together and took several large gulps.

Atabek weighed at least three times as much as her, but she was somehow still keeping up with him. "I never asked; why is it that your Common is so strong compared to theirs? I'm pretty sure they don't understand what they just toasted," Symon said.

"Dumosa is isolated from others and has little in the way of foreigners. There is also the sentiment that using Common is a betrayal of our people's culture."

"Ah, yes, I understand that. Your people have had issues with the Empire then?"

"Only minor. We do not share a direct border, and the Dumosan Plateau is well-defended by its nature," Aslan said.

"But you're not, like, at war with them?"

"No, nothing as serious as that. Just increased taxes and such, I do not know the full details. They seem more focused on those closer to them."

Symon took another sip of his beer. It was just as bad as he remembered. Once he finished with it, he'd see if Durga had any more of that cider. "So what made you want to learn Common, though? Even with Languages to help, it takes a lot of time to get anywhere with it."

Aslan sighed. "The Ledger only saw fit to grant me with the passive some months into our excursion from Dumosa. If you had heard me right after we left..." He turned in his seat to face Symon directly. "As to why I decided to learn — someone had to. There is more glory and honour in hunting a distant monster, and a grasp of Common was necessary for the journey. Would you trust those two to be your spokesperson?"

When Symon glanced over, Atabek was cheering as Safiya juggled her daggers. Every time he shouted something, she would go a little bit faster.

"I see your point," Symon said as he edged away slightly. "How much have they had to drink? I couldn't have been gone for more than an hour."

"Not that much. They are simply making up for the months we've spent travelling and fighting. Though I expect them to have made a sizeable dent in this tavern's supplies come nightfall."

"I can help with that, although I recommend the cider. Durga made me try some and it was much better than the beer."

"Cheers to that," Aslan said before taking another sip of his beer and wincing. "My uncle makes some good wine back home. You'll have to try some when we return."

"Deal," Symon said as he leaned in. "Though, I had some ideas for what we could do in the meantime. It'll be around a month until the next ship comes by, from what I've heard."

"Oh? Do tell."

Symon checked around him for any potential eavesdroppers. No one else had shown up out in the tavern's back, but the older man was still nursing his drink on the opposite side. He was far enough that Symon didn't think he'd be able to overhear, even with the Ledger enhancing people's senses. He leaned in as far as he could, but the effect was ruined due to the extremely inconvenient constraints of his magic. He was starting to miss only having monsters for company.

Okay, not really, but still...

"There's something fishy going on in the forest," Symon continued. Seeing Aslan's confused expression, he elaborated. "Something strange, I mean, sorry. Figure of speech. There's an abandoned manor in the forest, and the noble Lady who used to live there died a few decades ago, and yet no one who ever enters it comes back."

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Symon could see Aslan considering this news, although he wasn't sure how interested he was. Symon had to admit that he was personally curious, but it wasn't worth getting himself killed over.

"Is there a reward for investigating?"

"Not directly, although if no one has ever managed to return it means any valuables she had should still be in there."

Aslan tapped his chin contemplatively. It seemed like he was about to decline, but paused at the last moment. "It... would be beneficial to acquire some wealth. Although, we would have to assess the risk before committing to anything."

"Agreed," Symon said while the other man took another grudging sip of his drink. "We could just coast for a month, but that seems like a waste of potential to me. Although, if the manor doesn't work out we can always explore the dungeon."

Symon was suddenly misted by a fine spray of not-so-fine beer. "Explore the what?!" Aslan sputtered.

"Oh, right, I hadn't mentioned that. There's one in the mines, just don't mention it to anyone because it's supposed to be a village leader secret," Symon whispered. He knew Aslan wouldn't go spreading the news, not when he already trusted him with the knowledge of how powerful his healing was.

"It's right here? Underneath us?" he hissed in response.

"I'm not sure, exactly, I just know the mines lead to it."

"You haven't seen it yourself?"

"Nope." He didn't even know what a dungeon was supposed to look like. A creepy castle filled with skeletal archers? Dragons? I don't think I've even heard someone mention dragons before. I feel like it would have happened by now if they existed here.

"And this is not some jest? Sometimes I do not understand you well," Aslan said. His fingers were digging into the table.

"No, it's real, at least according to the old mayor and his son."

"Well... shit..." Aslan said. He leaned back so far on the bench that Symon thought he would fall off. "Would we have access to it? Is it under someone's control?"

Symon had to consider that, but only for a moment. "I'm pretty sure I can figure something out. After all, I did save the mayor's life."

Aslan looked over at the others, who were still juggling knives. "I think... we might be staying here for more than one month."

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

Symon waved goodbye to the others as he left the tavern. They'd spent the rest of the day drinking, relaxing, and having simple conversations with one another. It had made him realise that he didn't actually know much about the Dumosans, for all that they called each other friends. The language barrier was mostly responsible, which was something Symon could work on. If he did go back to their homeland with them, he'd need to learn the language. Plus, a better baseline level of communication would be important if they were going to go poking around dangerous situations.

It wasn't just their imperfect Common and Symon's nonexistant Dumosi that had meant he hadn't been able to get to know them well, though. Simply being able to relax, comfortable that monsters wouldn't jump out of the grass to try and eat you at any second did wonders for their ability to socialise. Safiya had always been focused on scouting for monsters, while Atabek had always been on the opposite side of the marching order from Symon. As it turned out, the massive roided up looking guy was actually pretty kind. He'd been very patient as he pointed at things and taught Symon the Dumosi word, and had done a good job himself of remembered the Common word when Symon told him.

For as meatheaded as some might assume he was at first glance, it was important to remember the influence of the Ledger. Some parts were obvious, like Strength and Constitution, but his understanding of how Intelligence influenced you was more opaque. It didn't seem to actually make someone smarter, it just made their mind more efficient. You could think faster — although this synergised with Acuity in a way that hadn't been explained very well — and remember things better, being more able to draw connections and make assumptions based off them, but it didn't make you think better.

An idiot with a high Intelligence could quickly come up with a bad plan and remember it flawlessly, but it wouldn't directly help them make a better plan. Conversely, a genius with a low Intelligence was very possible, although they tended to improve that stat quickly. Personally, Symon had noticed his memory improving, but he wasn't able to conclusively say he was thinking faster. Maybe slightly, but it wasn't much.

All in all, they'd had a great time. He hadn't realised how wound up he'd been until he finally had a chance to relax, but in retrospect it had been pretty bad. He'd been jumping at shadows, constantly thinking about how a monster could leap out at him or that his new friends would die. They'd toasted in the memory of Serik, their fallen archer, but had moved on quickly. Their people believed that to speak positively of the dead implied you did not believe their death was honourable enough to be worthy of making it to their afterlife, and that you were essentially begging the gods to allow them into the afterlife. Not a good look, apparently. Symon thought that funerals were meant to comfort the living, not the dead, but he nonetheless respected their customs.

He couldn't lie and say he was choked up over the death of someone he barely knew, but the reminder made him wonder if they would be able to survive without casualties if another razor stalker or similarly powerful monster showed up. He'd grown a lot stronger than he'd been at the time, but was it enough to make up for the missing member?

Symon sighed. Probably not.

At the very least, he wouldn't have a hangover in the morning. They'd drank a considerable amount, but Symon barely felt it. At first, he'd been worried that the alcohol was draining his vitality, but that hadn't been the case. His vessel had remained stable the whole time. Constitution protected from the effects of alcohol, but in Symon's case he was sure it was mostly because of his Poison Resistance. He'd been able to get to a certain level of tipsyness, but hadn't been able to push it into truly drunk territory.

He'd tried.

It's not counted as a poison until the dose gets high enough? I suppose it would need to work like that if it was supposed to protect you from overdosing on a medicine.

Eventually, Symon managed to return to Temuri's residence. By the time night had fallen, the miners had all gotten off work and flooded the streets and the tavern, suddenly transforming the unnervingly empty town into a bustling and active nightlife. It had been Symon's cue to call it a night once they'd shown up at the tavern — there hadn't been any issues, but dozens of drunk miners and his draining magic was a recipe for disaster.

Even just walking through the streets had been difficult, but by backtracking a few times and walking the outskirts of the village, he'd returned without harming anyone. Tonight was the time to rest and recover.

Tomorrow was shaping up to be a big day.