Alana is seated on one of the couches, munching through a plate of cookies. The smile that springs to my face seeing her wanes at the ends as I take her in.

It’s been a week since our sleepover, a little over two since we confirmed our feelings for one another. The last time I saw her, she was trying to hide her reluctance to leave as she boarded our carriage back to her dorm, a smile on her lips and her face flushed.

Now, she looks haggard. Her skin looks a little pale and her eyes have the faintest dark bags under them. Her blond hair was getting a bit long and it’s finally got the cut it needed. Far more than I expected, sheared until the ends of it barely touches her ears.

Her clothes are spotted with dirt, telling me she’s been taking her training more seriously than usual. More telling is the tension in her shoulders. Normally, Geneva’s cooking has her floating in a world of pleasure but her eyes are hard as she chews with force.

“Hey, you.” My smile regains some strength as she looks up.

“Hey.” She moves to set down her plate but I stop her, guiding it back to her lap as I sit beside her. “We have to get going.”

“We’ve got a moment to say a proper hello.” I eye her, gauging how she’d respond to a kiss, but decide against it. “I missed you. Thought you would drop by at least once.”

Alana sighs. “Sorry.”

“Hm? I’m not angry or anything. I am curious what has you looking so worn out.”

My future saint averts her eyes and rubs her brow. “You know my father is paying for me to attend the Hall. The arrangement was that I would spend five terms here and the intervening winters at Victory. While I’m here, I’m to split my time between the masters here and a teacher prepared by my father. While there, I would gain practical experience with the orders and join the campaigns.”

“Mm.” Sounds familiar.

“My teacher has arrived.”

“Ah. But you don’t need him.” I haven’t shared the secret of my seven affinities with her yet. Something like that needs proof. Of which I plan to give her using the summoning. I’m not quite ready to expose my true, glossy self. That needs to be broached carefully.

In the meantime, Kierra has assured her she has a way to train Alana’s affinity. With the sheer confidence that woman oozes, my dear knight didn’t bother to ask how, taking her at her word.

“Sir Polluck, that’s his name. He’s made arrangements to be here until we ride for Victory. It’d be inconvenient to leave early. I’ve agreed to work with him until then. No matter what, he is a veteran of the Bleak Peaks. He’s bound to have useful advice.”

“Looks like he’s working you hard.”

“The knights of Victory aren’t known to be gentle.”

“I don’t know.” I scoot closer, leaning toward her. “You’re pretty sweet to me.”

There it is, the flush I can bring to her cheeks so easily. “That’s cause I’m not a knight yet.”

“Oh? So if you do join an order, are you planning to get…rough with me?”

“You’d probably like that, damn pervert.”

I let out a deep breath and lean back. If only I had time to continue. “Don’t tease me. I hope you’re getting your time’s worth from this Sir Portly.”

“Polluck. How are you so bad with names? And it’s mainly drills. We’re going to be part of a large, armed force. Discipline is a necessity. When someone shouts an order, everyone needs to know what to do and do it flawlessly. Maybe you should join me.”

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

“Pass.” Time aside, I don’t plan on being a good soldier. I’m not going to the north to make nice with the knights. My goals are to make my mark and protect Alana. Doubt I’m going to do that following the people who’ve been failing for centuries.

I stand as Alana finishes the last of her treats and offer her a hand. “Let’s get going.”

-

No ordinary event could draw me from my work. Our outing isn’t particularly special but I did promise to be here and I don’t go back on my word easily.

A while back, while enjoying a night in the city, I stopped at the bar owned by Howie, the half goblin-half elf bartender. He’s from Twilight, the elven province known for their strange breeding practices and alchemy.

Maybe because of that, the drinks he brews are damn near potions. So much so, the guilds have been attempting to scout him for a long time.

Howie is thoroughly against the idea but they managed to grab his attention when they offered him work providing his brews by the barrel for the campaign. As they aren’t calling him a potion maker and offering a fair amount of gold, he’s inclined to help them. However, he’s concerned, with good reason, that they’ll try to muscle him into signing an unfair contract.

That’s where I come in.

I will be standing by to make sure everyone behaves themselves. If someone reaches for the gangly goblin, I smack their hand away. Once the contract is signed and hands are shaken, I make sure the nice hunters leave the establishment amicably and warn them about returning with nefarious intentions.

It’s a bit silly to play hired muscle but Howie is a friend. More importantly, he’s the best brewer in the kingdom. Whenever I get in the mood to go out, his bar is always a stop on the agenda. Compared to him, every other place serves bath water. Can’t have him getting taken advantage of.

Alana’s interest is taking a peek at the guilds who’ve joined the campaign. Apparently, outsiders assisting is a fairly new practice, promoted by her father after he became duke. Seems the knights of Victory didn’t believe there were idiots as suicidal as themselves. As a fellow outsider, I’m expected to work with them. She wants to take a look at my future comrades.

We arrive early and, as usual, the place is deserted except for a single customer seated on the last stool at the counter. That person is always there whenever I come, hunched over a mug, their features obscured by the large hood of their cloak.

More than once, I’ve wonder if it’s actually a dummy underneath there, a figure of sticks and straw posed as a decoration so Howie can claim his bar isn’t always empty. The illusion is occasionally ruined by a gloved hand raising their mug.

Despite my curiosity, I’ve never spoken to them. The stranger has a very strong “fuck off” aura that deters any thoughts of casual conversation.

The owner is in his usual place behind the counter, wiping mugs. Seems he’s made an effort to clean himself up for his meeting, putting on a nice shirt and a clean apron. His scraggly dark hair is tied back, making his green droopy ears more prominent.

Seated in front of him is the barmaid, Sara, as unremarkable as ever in her brown dress that matches her brown hair and eyes, along with a white apron. Though perhaps that’s intentional. The one time trouble almost started, it was the young woman who showed any intention to stop it. I think her drab clothing and otherwise muted presence is purposeful, meant to mask her role as the bar’s and Howie’s protector.

“Oh, Lou!” Howie grins as he spots me, flashing yellowed teeth. Bad brew? His ears give a little twitch I would describe as cute if he weren’t…him.

“Howie. You remember Alana?” I say as we both take a stool. Geneva, tail swinging, takes a place at one of the corner tables, the barmaid’s suspicious gaze following her the whole way.

“Hello,” Alana greets politely.

“Er, sure. Where’s Greenie? Thought you two went everywhere together.”

“My wife happens to enjoy a good drink the same as me so we often come here together. Ah, get us some Herbanacle.”

“Not for me.”

I turn to Alana with a raised brow. “This is supposed to be a serious meeting,” she grumbles. “I can’t be drunk.”

“It’s not your serious meeting but if you insist. Howie—”

“I got something,” the brewer says as he reaches for the bottles on the shelving behind him. “You were saying about the brute?”

“Oh, yes.” I take a long drink of the mug he sets before me. “She’s likely being dined by a rich woman right now.”

He freezes and gapes at me, Alana taking the mug halfway extended to her from his stiff fingers. “Wait. You’re saying your wife is off with another woman?”

“Yeah.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“No? Not this woman. Besides, she’s only doing it because I asked.”

He shakes his head. “You’re a weird human.”

Hah! That’s where you went wrong. I’m not human. “I think you’re misunderstanding. I didn’t ask Kii to sleep with her. You know how the Guiness have been hot for her since she got here.”

“Yeah. Maxine’s been trailing you two like a lost pup.”

“See, her sister is in the city and she’s a lot less scrupulous than Max. I don’t want to deal with whatever she is cooking up so I asked my wife to head her off. She’s probably being flattered to death at the moment.”

“You turned that down?” he asks suspiciously. Understandable. I am a known hedonist.

“My hands are full.” I smile at Alana who hides inside her mug.

“Huh. Thanks for showing up. These guild bastards are always taking liberties. Don’t be afraid to smack them around if they get uppity, huh? I’ll pay you extra.”

“Relax. I’ll do the job properly.” Is it too much to hope for that everything goes smoothly?