“This might be the weirdest place I have applied makeup in.” Remy stared at herself through a handheld mirror as she applied some sort of black eyeliner. She paced around in circles, having re-done the same spot three times by now. “In a wooden trash house, alone with a half-naked man from a questionable place of the world. My noble training tells me I should feel uncomfortable.”

“I apologize,” I said, sharing the emotions. Girls felt worse simply by existing in the same room as me. It was a sad thing to feel, knowing I had zero intention to perform any of the acts a half-naked man could attempt.

“Oh, don’t say that. This is all Darko’s fault. I can’t believe, out of all things in the world, he let my student’s clothes get stolen.” Remy adjusted the mirror angle and sighed. “Moons, I feel like a skittish little child preparing for my first ball. I’m the one who needs to apologize. Here I am, telling you to learn diligently with all of your focus, only to ruin your efforts with useless blabbering. Get back to training; I’ll stop spouting nonsense, I promise.”

“Yes,” I said. Remy had ordered me to “feel out” my mana chords with the tips given so far. The salmon carp analogy included. The analogy told me to imagine myself filled with little pores to shoot my blood from, similar to how “salmon carps sprayed water from their scales.” These pores would be located by the ends of my mana chords, around my hand and fingertips, where I was to cast mana out of my body, turning it into magic.

The method was difficult to imagine, considering I had never seen a Krose salmon carp. Still, I tried to imagine the pores. I didn’t manage much other than to confuse my nerves by attempting to move muscles that didn’t exist.

“It feels stupid, I know,” Remy said. “Without mana in your chords, it’s difficult to tell whether you’re actually feeling your chords. But this is a necessary procedure for when we eventually try the real thing. Don’t move your muscles through a command in your head. Instead, try to move your consciousness to your chords, as if you were there. Don’t think of the endpoint as any physical place. Locate your chords with your consciousness.”

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and attempted the same thing again. Honestly, I had no idea what the hell I was doing. I didn’t know if I’d learned anything within the hour of attempts. And what was more, it didn’t help that every mage apparently imagined this process differently.

Still, I tried and tried. If only to distract myself from the mountain of worries clouding my head.

Ten or so minutes later, Remy turned to me, having applied the last bits of makeup. “How does it look?”

I tried my best not to turn red or look away. “Good?” I said. “Uhm, I’m not familiar with your culture’s beauty standards.”

Remy pouted at her mirror. “My mother would have done it far better. She always put more effort into makeup than most mages do in practice. This is as good as I’ll get without her help. I hope it’s good enough. One of us needs to look like a proper lady in the palace, and I know Shena won’t even try. Not that she needs makeup. She portrays the sassy adventurer look perfectly. Noble boys will fawn over her, and all she needs to do is frown in their direction.”

I leaned forward with my arms on my thighs. “This really is a serious mission, huh?”

“It might be,” Remy said. “We’re meeting the King. Nervous?”

I took a breath. I knew I could be honest with Remy. It still took willpower to reveal my true thoughts. “I’ll explode any second,” I said. “My life was normal just a week ago.”

“You don’t look nervous,” Remy said. “You look more… Focused. Like there’s some serious equation you’re trying to solve.”

“I’m trying to solve this mana pores problem,” I said with a sigh. And I could have left it at that. But something within me wanted to say more. “And I’m wondering how I’ll survive through Darko’s mission. So far, I haven’t found any solutions.”

Remy let out a laugh and plumped down on a bed opposite from me. “I can’t believe I’m about to risk everything I have just to teach some random guy I met a few days ago. You better be thankful, Cill. And don’t you dare reveal your occupation to the King. When we step out of here, you’re a fully learned mage.”

“A learned student of James Adamson,” I said.

Remy nodded, then ordered me back to learning while she triple-checked her makeup.

***

Shena appeared at the inn first. She had just laid down her staff and hinted at her findings when the man himself strolled inside. All of us watched as Darko dropped a stack of clothes on the bed next to me. He exhaled and wiped his forehead. “Done, and perfectly on time,” he said.

“Darko?” Remy asked. She had finished revisions to her makeup just in time to cast a frown at Darko. “What in the name of Arkber’s Lost Thieves are you wearing?”

Grinning wide, our leader straightened the golden lapels of his pristine black suit. I eyed the outfit in surprise. The quality of the outfit was on par with your average wedding suit, though no sane man would willingly wear a suit as showy and highlighted. The suit had nearly as much golden embroidery in circular shapes as it did black fabric.

‘“Fits me well, doesn’t it?” Darko said.

“Absolutely not!” Remy called. “You lack half of a proper outfit, including a coat or cloak, which are considered the main dishes of any man’s wardrobe. You’re missing every single ornament—epaulets, pins, everything that is usually considered a sign of politeness and class. You’d be kicked out of a ball before stepping in, never to receive an invitation again. And this is notwithstanding your unkempt hair, your overly arrogant posture, and your grin that can only belong to a maniac adventurer! You’re practically naked!”

“Well,” Darko said. “Shit.”

“I think he looks good,” Shena said.

I had to agree. As showy as the suit was, Darko would have certainly passed any dress code on Earth. If anything, the best stylists would have thrown compliments for his looks. Though most kind words would have been directed at his illegally good-looking face.

“Sadly, your preference in men doesn’t matter in the slightest, Shena,” Remy said. “I presume Darko intends to wear this to the audience today. His reputation will be butchered. The nobility and royalty see each element of an outfit as a potential weakness to criticize. And as our leader lacks most of the necessary components to craft an outfit, the nobility will take offense at Darko’s refusal to participate. In their eyes you appear much like a man lounging in breeches.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“The tailor tricked me, then,” Darko said with a sigh. “She said this was a good suit.”

“Nobody tricked you but yourself. The suit is an excellent foundation to build an outfit on,” Remy said. “But it’s incomplete. A simple adventurer’s vest would have worked far better for your character. Nobility respects the work adventurers put in. A suit, however, will be seen as your failed attempt to impress.”

“Better cover myself in a cloak, then,” Darko said. “How about Cill’s outfit? I was proud of it when I picked it up. And I would like to remain proud of it.”

Remy and I glanced at the stack of clothes on the bed. “You bought him a robe?”

“I doubt he bought anything at all,” Shena said. “I for one did not count any coins leaving this inn at Darko’s departure. This is all stolen, isn't it?”

“‘Borrowed’ is the word you’re looking for,” Darko said. “I promised to pay later. None of it is stolen.”

“Darko…” Shena said. “How is it that our goal has been to impress royalty, yet we have not left one major city without committing several crimes?”

“What, you think I’ll get arrested?” Darko asked with a grin. “How’s the robe? I say we should try it on.”

Remy sighed. “Cill is a mage, as odd as he will look. The robe could work. Do you know how to wear a robe?”

“I don’t think so,” I admitted.

Remy picked out everything I needed for my outfit. “Put on the undergarments, and I'll help with the robe. Most mages consider stockings essential to cover their feet, but most mages are also women. You’ll have to do with breeches. Luckily, this particular robe is lengthy enough to cover yourself.”

At my master’s orders, I scurried to the room next over and covered myself in long-awaited clothes. The breeches could have qualified as tight long johns that would have fit me right into a gay nightclub back on Earth, and the wide-shouldered undershirt wasn’t exactly tailored to fit. Still, I was happy to wear anything at all.

Remy helped me with the robe. She showed me how to tie the sash and made sure no pieces of fabric were tucked in the wrong places. The robe was awfully thick for the weather and too wide around the chest. But I didn’t completely hate it. If I was to become a mage, I could imagine myself wearing it. The team collectively agreed that the robe was an acceptable outfit, and the matter of clothes was finally concluded, for now.

“Shena,” Darko said. “Seeing you here, I take it that you at least haven’t been mutilated to death by our assailants. What did you find?”

“They’re cultists,” Shena said. I perked up at the word. “The old church is in their control and packed with mostly goons and grubbies. For our newbie, ‘goons and grubbies’ refers to untrained and mostly inexperienced combatants. I spotted a man taking swings with Darko’s sword, though he appeared inexperienced with wielding vigor.”

“Ah, perfect,” Darko said with a grin. “Eager amateurs, is it?”

Shena nodded. “I suspect the bathhouse was in the cult’s control. The cultists identified you as the Wyvern Slayer and took your sword, understandably. What confuses me is this whole harmful lice fiasco. Why not just take the sword and run?”

“You can never predict what the smaller cultist groups have in mind,” Darko said. “Most of them operate separately with their own squadron leaders. I think the leader saw the bounty on my head and wished to capture me on top of my sword. He’d gain a lot of popularity, capturing a man who has caused them so much trouble. They likely haven’t heard of Cill’s Hallowed chords yet. Otherwise, capturing Cill would have been a priority.”

“They could have simply jumped you two while you were bathing,” Shena said with a sigh. “Maybe they wished to lure you to a worse part of town before causing a scene?”

“You can never tell with Azetoth’s sniffers,” Darko said. “I say we’ll capitalize on their mistakes and pillage the damn place.” He stood up and stretched. The girls followed, picking up their staves.

“We’re attacking them?” I asked. “Right now?”

“Of course,” Darko said. “We’ve got some bits of time before our audience. I’ve promised we’ll capture cultists for our audience, and we require our stuff back. There is no better time to attack than now. Ah, and before I forget, take this.” He handed me a crooked staff, similar to Shena’s. “It’s a real weapon. I don’t expect you to use it, of course. Just try to look like you know what you’re doing.”

I gulped and nodded.

Without further planning, the team grabbed their stuff. Our luggage was this time carried by Shena. In under a minute, the team was on their way downstairs and out of the inn, ushering me to follow. As usual, I did not wish to leave.

And as usual, I had no choice but to get off my ass and follow.

The team emerged in the evening air with confidence, as if on a simple stroll to grab dinner. Their charisma radiated to the streets around them. Paths cleared. Even horses on carriages shifted to make room for our party. The girls’ staves and Darko’s suit provided the largest effect, though I realized I, in my hefty robe, was just as intimidating to passersby.

I followed beside Remy, making sure not to fall behind, though I certainly did not feel like a part of the group. I still considered myself an impostor, despite my promises. Once again, I’d barely received a few hours of rest, and I was already back dealing with the damn cult. It was still too early…

“Cill, I know I said this last time, and that didn’t end well,” Remy said. “But you are protected. I will do anything in my power to keep you safe. If Shena’s assessment is correct, and the church is stacked with simple goons, Darko could brawl everyone out with his fists.”

I took a breath. “I know. You are strong. But… What if this is another ambush? What if they have more hostages?”

“They don’t,” Shena said. “I scouted the place as thoroughly as I could have. If the cult has a trap, it’s not inside the church.”

How can you be so confident? I thought. Last time, we went in with nearly the exact same preparations. The team was confident, then. What was different today?

“I believe the problem is a lack of weapons and self-defense,” Darko said. “Cill, how good are you at throwing things?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Acceptable?”

Darko pulled out a round vial filled with liquid the color of my robe. Suspicious particles swam at the bottom of the vial. “Daze powder. Alchemy in a vial. Serious stuff for immobilizing even the best of mages if you manage a clean hit. This stuff won’t kill, not unless your target passes out inside the cloud, but even the tiniest sniff of this will dissuade any attacker. And don’t ask me where I got this.”

I accepted the vial and hid it in the inside pocket of my robe. Fantasy pepper spray, I imagined. Great.

The rest of the walk was spent talking plans, a conversation that passed mostly through my ears. I found myself too busy with my own preparations, taking deep breaths, convincing myself that I would live to see tomorrow.

The logical side of my brain had already deemed my clothes a lost cause. They were stolen by goddamned cultists. If anything, I was lucky that my clothes were the only valuables taken. Any sensible person would have accepted the loss and moved on with their merry lives, trying their best to forget ever owning the lost pair of clothes. They’d perhaps report the problem to the constabulary or whatever enforced rules around the area. I was sure most people from Earth would share my sentiment.

Yet, this was not how the world operated. My mindset was the unpopular one—a mindset that I had promised to change. Sooner than later, I would have to become like Darko, a man who actively hunted the thieves who dared steal from them.

This is stupid, my brain argued. Even rowdy teens put you on edge. You pride yourself on being a peaceful guy, good with words to dissuade fights. Why would a man like you ever choose the path of a fighter?

Our destination loomed in the distance. I took a deep breath, cursed Shiela for the umpteenth time, then prepared myself for the upcoming attack.