This year’s victor was given an enticing offer to join the Vagabonds, though they gave up the original prize of a direct request to Cadius. Having watched the second half of the game, I’d say they’d more than earned it. Maybe I’d be seeing them wandering around headquarters.

The stars were already out by the time all was said and done. Both Lloyd and I were completely wiped. Lloyd shot down my suggestion to stay the night here. I was too damned tired to argue the issue. Wolfram offered to take us back home using his shadow traversal. My anxiousness must have been plain as day because he belatedly added that the first time through the shadow space is always the worst by a wide margin. I looked to my partner for reassurance, he knew me better than Wolfram did, he’d be in a better position to make that assessment. He nodded, and less than a minute later we were standing outside our front door. The two of us had a small, simple dinner before settling down for the night, falling into a deep slumber.

As for the prisoner Wolfram had captured, things weren’t so fortunate. The morning after the Day of Thieves festival, a letter sent by Wolfram filled us in on what happened. Apparently, the assassin had lost his mind while he’d been knocked out. Cadius’s… ‘information extraction’ experts exhausted every method at their disposal to get something useful out of the guy and got nothing for it. To be specific, their words were, “Yep, he’s fucked. Shoved a bright light right up against his eyes and the pupils didn’t even contract. First time seeing it myself.” I would have found the report much more unsettling if not for the flippant tone it was written in.

Other than that brief interruption, we slept soundly, nestled in our silent, dark bedroom, buried under layers of sheets and blankets.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Back in our old home, our old life… previous life? Previous world? Hm. I’ll have to ask Cadius about that specific terminology. Anyways, back before we got our shit kicked in, our living situation wasn’t that great. Yeah, it could have been much worse, and back when I was a brat, it was.

The memories of those nights spent shivering in some back alley, hiding in a dark corner, hoping I wouldn’t get mugged in my sleep, hadn’t faded. There were times where I didn’t even have the energy to experience fear; my body and mind too numbed to properly respond.

Eventually I grew up. Taught myself how to steal food and run from the guard. Moved on to picking pockets for money and valuables. Got real good at it, too.

That was around the time when I met Lloyd. Together, we were able to earn far more than we needed to survive. For the first time in my life, I had a bed to sleep in, food that was neither stolen nor scrounged from a dumpster, and a roof over my head.

Now? We were the equivalent of royalty. Our bed was so soft that I sometimes worried I’d get swallowed up by it. We even had a live-in chef, for fuck’s sake. Oh, but don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. Just that, this is all so sudden; it takes time to get used to it.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Having spent the morning sleeping in, afternoon arrived far too soon. We got dressed and headed out for our meeting with our prospective teammates.

The walk to the meeting room had become so familiar to us that we could navigate it without any trouble at all.

Stepping through the doorway, I found that Johan, Hartwin, Dan, Roska, and Falur had already made themselves comfortable.

“Von! Lloyd! Good to see you two alive and kicking,” Dan laughed.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

I arched an eyebrow as I took a seat facing the group.

“We heard there was some trouble during the last round, an attempt on your life, I think it was,” Roska supplied.

“Ah, yeah. They never stood a chance with Wolfram and Cadius there. We were never in any real danger.”

“Mm,” Lloyd confirmed.

A final, cursory glance of the room reaffirmed what I already knew. Not unexpected, but a touch disappointing nonetheless.“… I guess he’s not coming,” I muttered quietly to myself. A silent sigh escaped my lips. “How’re you guys holding up?” I asked.

“Fighting a bitch of a hangover, but I’ll be fine, I’ve dealt with worse,” said Dan weakly with a bittersweet smile. Even if he hadn’t said anything, it was clear from the dark circles under the eyes, pale face, and cracked lips that he wasn’t doing so hot. The price one pays, I suppose.

Johan, on the other hand, was as lively as ever. He’s still got that endless energy kids usually have. Roska, Hartwin, and Falur wore tired looks. Hartwin and Roska especially; the former nearly went flying from Oliver’s absurd strength, and the latter the victim of collateral damage from the same.

“Roska, how’s your head?” I asked. There’d been times where I’d see some poor sap get clobbered in the head during a bar brawl, get up like nothing happened, only to kick the bucket the next day.

Hm. Do Ratatoskrs have different insides from humans? They are kinda human-like. Eh, whatever. I doubt Ratatoskrs are tougher than humans, on average.

“I had it checked out properly before the second round, no issues,” she said. Quick on the uptake, that one. I gave her a nod.

After confirming everyone’s condition, the next few minutes were spent making small talk.

Johan told me about how his night went. Dan, Falur, and him walked around the festival as a group, stopping at a dive for cheap drinks. Johan apparently drank like a fish, leaving Dan in his current state. I eyed Dan questioningly, and he gave me a pained nod in response.

Lloyd, Roska, and a mum Hartwin had their own conversation off to the side.

When the conversations eventually died down, I stood up and cleared my throat. “I probably shouldn’t put this off any longer,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “We, Lloyd and I, have decided on our roster.”

All eyes were on us, Hartwin excluded.

Lloyd stepped forward. “Roska will be our scout,” he announced.

Roska nodded. Evidently, she had anticipated that outcome.

On the other hand, Falur let a flicker of mild indignation show in his expression. His shoulders slumped ever so slightly, and he set his jaw. To his credit, he quickly regained his composure and plastered a smile on his face. “Congratulations, Roska,” he said in a seemingly sincere tone.

“Thank you, she replied with a nod. Her eyes lingered on Falur for just a moment before turning back to us. I gestured with my eyes, ‘Did you want to say something to him?’ Roska shook her head.

A discrete tug on his sleeve and he stepped back, putting me back in the spotlight. “Moving on, we’ve decided on Johan as the frontliner,” I announced.

Johan beamed, and the walking zombie in the chair next to his smiled. “Ayy, that’s great, Johan!” Dan said, his voice a bit hoarse. Even when nursing a nasty hangover, Dan was just as jovial as ever.

“And finally,” I shifted my gaze to the reserved Ratatoskr. “Hartwin. You’re the only person we could pick for the job, literally and figuratively. I mean, how could we turn you down after hearing about you squaring off with Oliver?”

Hartwin winced at the sudden praise. “I-I don’t think-"

“Hartwin,” Lloyd interrupted him. “You took a serious hit from one of the physically strongest members in the country, and you stood your ground at that.”

Lloyd approached him, holding out a hand. With unwavering gaze and hardened expression, Lloyd made his request, “Hartwin, please be our shield.”

Uh, Lloyd? Aren’t you being a bit too dramatic?

Hartwin hesitated. Had Lloyd had gone too far and sent Hartwin into shock? My worries were assuaged when Hartwin reached out and shook the offered hand. The fire in his eyes, posture, expression. For a fleeting moment Hartwin had the aura of a hero; an unyielding presence that would face any danger head-on.

Oi. What’s with this serious atmosphere all of the sudden?

And, for some fucking inscrutable reason, something in the back of my mind told me Hartwin had just now gotten ‘stronger’. What’s that supposed to mean, you might ask? Fuck if I know. But if I had to describe it… it’s like how you can look at someone and you just know they’re bad news. Sort of like a survival instinct, but less instinctual and more conscious.

Looking at Hartwin, yeah, I can sense that he’s a bit different from before. Furthermore, I had the feeling that it wasn’t something Lloyd had done to Hartwin, rather, his growth was entirely his own. Or something.

I suppressed a sigh. Am I really not even that bothered by these sudden developments anymore?

… Nope. Still surprised.