Red was in much lighter spirits when he returned, and the last portion of our journey to Yukiori was all the brighter for it. Tanis and I’s commitment to closer physical interaction took almost no time in becoming casual, and on the second night back on the road she curled up beside me while I played our nightly Earth music, which was the few Bob Seger selections I could remember off the top of my head. Red made no comment about it, but he took notice with a raised eyebrow and a shake of his head. Even if he’d given me his unambiguous approval, I’m not sure I’d feel any less conflicted about the concept of Tanis and I becoming an ‘us’, a scenario I overthought about rather frequently during the days that followed.
For some reason when I committed to a course of action, I often followed that up with further justifications as though the original reason wasn’t good enough. Despite the valid concerns of our wounded trust and sub-optimal compatibility, my brain insisted on reminding me we’d barely known each other for a month and I hadn’t taken enough time to consider what a future together would look like. She absolutely hadn’t; Tanis lived in the moment, and I really wanted the next relationship to be my last, even if that was an infeasible goal that wasn’t entirely up to me. Nevermind that neither of us were actually interested in romance, these were the reasons I should keep her at arm’s length.
Sometimes my brain was less the information center for my body and more a jackass who lived in my skull and offered unhelpful ideas. Because on the other hand, I argued with myself, odds were I’d be on the road for the foreseeable future and ‘settling down’ wasn’t a tangible idea. Nevermind that neither of us had any intention for children, so there was less ironclad commitment in doing so. If I was being realistic, unless I got incredibly lucky there’d be more than one new notch on my bedpost between now and the end of my life, and if things blossomed for the two of us, I resolved to keep my mind open to acting upon it. Key influencers on this decision were how my hairs stood on end when she brushed up against me unexpectedly, or the serene warmth that kindled in my chest when she held me while I sang. In fact, they were both rather vocal supporters of throwing caution to the wind and making a move just for the opportunity to bask in an endorphin rush.
By the time we found ourselves setting down to a late breakfast in The Wanderer’s Regard, I was burning to make a few rash decisions in the pursuit of said temporary pleasures. Fortunately, the town of Yukiori caught my curiosity enough to act as a welcome distraction from how soft Tanis’ lips looked, or the thrill I felt when brushing my hand across one of her taut muscles. While we were still technically within the borders of Astonia, crossing into Senta would take little more than an hour, and you could see the heavy nezumi influence on the architecture and aesthetic around us. Smaller, stacked stones served as foundation for the houses, and lacquered boardwalks raised up above the small drifts of snow. There was more exposed wood as part of the buildings with fewer harsh elements to contend against allowing intricately carved and boldly painted decorations to make each building stand out despite the relative uniformity of style. The tile rooves curved and peaked with sturdy shingles, doors slid open instead of swinging on hinges, and round paper lanterns hung from every storefront and awning, their tassels fluttering in the chill breeze.
“We’re staying the night here,” I insisted over a meal of fish, rice, and a light broth. I wasn’t sure what the traditional name for the dish was, since the kanji-like strokes of the nezumi language Gengo now mixed with Aznakke and Ruben on signs and menus, and I’m sure it had a more unique title in its native tongue, but the soup tasted like miso, and brought back memories of fine meals I hadn’t consumed in well over a year.
“You sure, chief? We got plenty of time to supply up, hit the road, an’ find a campin’ spot before it gets too dark.”
“I’m sure. I need to see this city at night, with the lanterns all lit.”
“Did you see there’s a little stage in here?” Tanis bubbled over mouthfuls of her own piscine meal, “I think they have live music with dinner. Maybe you could learn a few new songs?”
“Well, now that we’re outta the worst of the snow, the only schedule we need to keep is gettin’ in an’ outta Bizim before summer hits, an’ that’s months away.” Red looked the best I’d seen him in days, forcing himself to salivate over each small, sardine-like fish from the pile he’d purchased before he popped one into his mouth. “I’m cool to stay here if you guys are.”
“Making a little money wouldn’t be a bad idea, either, if you think you could set up some esper fights or something?” We weren’t in rough shape, but if I could avoid even approaching a situation of financial concern, I’d rather.
“I’ll ask around,” he nodded. “We’re closer to Triangle Road than the last time I pulled that stunt, so it might be harder. I need to get a vibe on this place. Been a long time since I came so close to Senta.”
“Is there any way to make money fighting above board?”
“Eh, probably not. Not here, anyhow. League chainers get paid based on a percentage of last year’s ticket sales, more if it’s against a Gladiator. With no coliseum in town and the qualifiers in full swing, it’s doubtful there’s a judge just passin’ through to officiate. But I’ll figure somethin’ out. If we can’t find a fight, I’ll see if I can’t find some other work. We’re pretty far from Teren Balt, but the reach of the Houses goes pretty far.”
“Don’t it just,” Tanis grumbled.
We finished our meals and parted ways, Tanis and I agreeing to meet back up at the tavern for dinner and a show. Grajo and Wysteria opted to stay in our room, both more weary from the road and less inspired by the culture and opportunities in the city than those of us with two legs and no wings. I offered to accompany Red on his investigations, but he turned me down just in case he did meet with any of his contacts. The whole exchange had a very ‘you don’t want none of this, Dewey’ sort of vibe to my wannabe-roguish heart, but I let it go, trusting that he truly had my best interests at heart. He certainly never steered me wrong before. A few hours flew by with me exploring the shops, picking up food and fresh supplies when the deal seemed good or the item essential. Quietly people-watching also kept me busy and entertained, marveling at the diverse people, clothing, armor, and gear visible in this amazing melting pot of a town. It made me want to step up my fashion game as a traveler, give other people something to look at that wasn’t so… consistently brown. But before I could indulge myself in a little experimental toggery, Red caught up with me, having managed to scrabble together a few under-the-radar fights and a discrete to have them.
Gathering up the other espers, we made our way to the basement of a decidedly non-descript building. I would think an unassuming box would stand out more in a place with so much culture, but it was perhaps remote and abandoned-looking enough to discourage anyone who had no business there. It certainly gave me a nervous feeling as we descended down crumbling stone stairs into something that was little more than a dank fruit cellar. At the bottom was a nezumi, an az, and a human, each with a pair of espers. None of them were as intimidating as the building itself, especially with the az slouching to avoid hitting her head on the low ceiling. We each made our introductions and established ground rules for a small round-robin tournament, with every victory granting a small payout and the overall winner taking the lion’s share of the wager. Everyone put their share into a small bag, which Red took off to the side. As much as I would’ve loved to be a fly on the while as he negotiated this arrangement, I was glad I didn’t join him in setting it up. First of all, it would give away our collusion even more than us arriving together (perhaps he told them he was going to fetch me, or some other simple lie, I honestly didn’t know) and secondly, I don’t know if I could so ably convince anyone to join me in an illegal underground fight on such short notice. It made me feel a bit like Turkish from the movie Snatch, if Turkish was incredibly lame and not, y’know. Jason Statham.
Wysteria showed obvious improvements as early as the first fight; her reaction time was better, she seemed more aware of her surroundings, and she was committed to victory, handily disposing of the opposing skrat. The grimoire hadn’t given me any indication her abilities had improved, but all the same all her time training with Red and the spar with Argenti the other day were clearly paying off. Grajo’s improvements were a little harder to notice, what with him being a trained fighter from long since before I met him, but at the very least there was increased confidence in his movements. Part of them both looking so good was also likely a skill differential; it would be foolish for Red to find us strong opponents when the whole point of the exercise was making money. It wasn’t quite on the level of a card shark’s hustle, nor were the fights rigged in any way, but he obviously chose chainers and espers against whom we had good odds of finding a natural victory. That’s also not to say that the battles were easy; I spent plenty of my magic healing between battles and offering it to my opponents as well. At first it was welcomed, and the four of us made small talk, but the more it became clear who the two arcanists in the finals were going to be, the less inclined to share space everyone became.
The sun was no doubt drawing low on the surface as I stood fifteen feet of raw earth away from the az, who was smiling confidently and still stooping to avoid crowning herself. She was the victor in our previous bout, largely owing to her pair of moss trolls and their natural immunity to Wysteria’s Venomous Vapors. It put us on the backfoot, especially with Grajo taking an early and unexpected injury that forced me to sub Wysteria in. This time the plan was to have her start and wear down one or both as much as possible in hopes Grajo could finish the job. It was a long shot, admittedly, but there was neither gold nor glory in backing out now. Red caught eyes with me, an unsure expression hidden somewhere beneath his impartial façade. No matter what happened, we were walking out of here with a return on investment; I’d won enough to make a few coins more than what I’d put in the pot, and he’d already taken his cut from the purse as organizer, which we would split. I could still feel the vestiges of that rush back in Brum, though, and it steeled my nerves to stare down unlikely odds and still do my damnedest. Of course, most of the heavy lifting was down to the espers. Wysteria squared her squat little legs in anticipation of Red’s shout, imitating the League judge.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“BEGIN!”
The moss troll was most certainly faster than Wysteria, and it barreled into her before she had a chance to strike. There was far less room in this dusty old fruit cellar than there was in Brum’s coliseum, and it meant less time to plan or react to changing conditions. I stayed mostly silent, with all of us up to speed on the basic tactic and little room for audibles. Wysteria weathered the blow and responded with one of her own; a shoulder charge that rocked the moss troll enough to pop him back a bit, but little more. He curled back into his ball form and spun around the room to build momentum before colliding again, nearly knocking the terramor toad off her feet. A wince spread across my face before I could stop it. Already things weren’t going as well as I’d hoped; despite her intense training, she just wasn’t a had-to-hand fighter as much as she relied on Venomous Vapors. At the moment, Grajo was our heavy, and I was wondering how soon into Marekaj I could justify trying to recruit a new esper if for no other reason than to diversify our options. Shaking my wandering thoughts clean, I tried to keep my mind in the now despite how far behind in the fight Wysteria was.
After a few more rolling attacks and one punch to the throat, my dear toad friend was looking rough enough that I withdrew her from the fight and substituted the nachtkrapp in. Grajo’s whole body heaved with a sigh as he stepped in, knowing as well as I did he had an uphill battle. Fortunately, for as much as the moss trolls had a natural physical advantage against my espers, they weren’t as smart as Alexsandr’s. The first one only got a small swat at Grajo before he picked him up by his grassy hair and hurled him into the corner, knocking him out of commission. He puffed his chest proudly as the fresh moss troll switched in for her partner, squaring her body and doing a little haka-like war dance to psych herself up. Grajo strafed her on the ground, looking for an opening or weakness; some imperceptible flaw in her stony defenses that we missed earlier. He finally dove in for an assault, but she was ready, grabbing him by the ankles and swinging him into the wall. Feathers flew and Grajo flapped back to his feet, clawing and scratching as the moss troll rained down blows with her mighty fists. Despite all the fight left in Grajo I could see the writing on the wall, and I didn’t want to put him through more pain than was necessary for a little fight money and a triumphant feeling in my chest. I threw in the metaphorical towel, and the az pumped her fists in victory.
“I could have fought longer,” he grunted in Esperlang, coughing a small amount of crimson fluid onto the ground as I began to mend his wounds.
“I know.” He caught my eyes and we both passed our understanding that unless she suddenly froze up and stopped fighting, it wouldn’t have meant anything but more injuries for him to keep at it. It was a long, unblinking look, lasting two uses of my Healing Touch, but he finally nodded sternly.
"… thank you.”
“Of course.”
The profits weren’t as much as they could’ve been, but it was more than enough to cover what I spent in supplies and our stay at the inn. The az seemed happy about her victory and watching her beam with pride while talking up the moss trolls made me feel a little better about losing. Seeing the lanterns glowing along the city streets was more than enough reward for me, anyhow; shades of orange, pink, and lavender reflecting off the stones and the light dusting of snow that had fallen while we were underground set a breathtaking scene as people milled through the streets, coming home from work, heading out for a night on the town, or just enjoying the view as I had earlier. Red and I joined them after letting the espers into the room to rest, taking an unobtrusive seat on some crates in the alley next to the inn. I wasn’t quite sure where Tanis had gotten off to, but our date had a nebulous schedule and I was content to wait and just enjoy a quiet moment of absorbing the energy of a bustling evening. An errant flake would twirl past my vision now and then, drifting down from the rooftops or perhaps descending from the sky high above, and the manner in which it caught every incremental hue as it performed its final dance bred a sense of tranquility within me that unburdened whatever was on my shoulders.
“You did good tonight, chief.”
“Thanks. Sorry we didn’t take the whole thing.”
“We’ll manage,” he shrugged. “It’s gonna be a while before we get to another settlement. Might be all the way to Vil Kayman. But we’re all pretty resourceful.”
“You think it’s gonna be tight?”
“Maybe,” he tilted his head, black fur waving a bit as the breeze stiffened and picked up, “maybe not. It’s hard to tell. Marekaj don’t have much in the way of towns like the rest of Barbavia. Not a lot of incentive to make permanent dwellings when the wet season could wipe ‘em all out, y’know?”
“Sure.” I had no personal frame of reference, of course, but his words made sense. “We’re… not going during the wet season, are we?”
“Well, we ain’t goin’ during the dry season; that’s Dryearth Run. But it’s cold enough that it shouldn’t bee too bad. If we stay in the lee of the mountains, as planned, we should avoid the worst of it even once we get far enough South that the temperatures start to rise.”
The months in Barbavia had such interesting names. I was used to single words that were quiet allusions to figures from history and myth, but here it was much more direct and what it says on the tin; Trader’s Launch was the beginning of the calendar during what most parts of the continent would call ‘spring’, followed by Shade’s March through the darkened canopies of Teren Balt’s heavily forested territory. Hail’s Refrain marked the beginning of summer, when most people were traveling through Astonia, paired with the aforementioned Dryearth Run. I arrived in the Commonwealth toward the end of Sun’s Retreat, when the Southern deserts of Bizim are less temperamental between the heat of the day and the chill of the night, and we were now in Serpent’s Boon where the traders would make the arduous trek into the Serpent Mountains to trade with the snake-worshipping kobolds that lived apart from the ones who praised a sun god. To the rest of the continent these were the fall months, though my time around non-coniferous trees was both early and late enough that I managed to miss the sweet spot of exploding red and orange I so looked forward to every year. Hearth’s Return took the traders back to the Earthscraper in Senta, and Trader’s Rest was the month they took off for the harshest parts of winter before starting the cycle all over again.
“Thanks for sticking around, by the way.”
“Huh?” Red’s ears pricked up, a little startled by my sudden change of subject.
“I know I’ve said it before, but I just really appreciate you helping us all out. We wouldn’t be here without you.”
“No,” he admitted with a smirk, “you wouldn’t. But thanks for havin’ me, anyhow. I know I ain’t good for much beyond helpin’ with Wysteria an’ Grajo, an’ occasionally scorin’ us a fight under the table, but—”
“But that’s a really important part of this whole dynamic. I’d probably still be stuck in Brum at this point, facing down the winter and trying to figure out how to get an edge on Alexsandr. I might not even have Grajo on the team.”
“Maybe,” he shrugged. “I think you sell yourself short a little, but I ain’t about to pretend like you haven’t needed me. It’s part of why I stayed; I—” He stopped, his tiny cat-lips flexing with hesitation, trying to choose the perfect words. “A long time ago I walked away from a friend when she needed me, an’ I’ve regretted it every day since. Things got too hard. I wasn’t strong enough. An’ every day after I got done feelin’ sorry for myself, I promised the next time I had the chance to stay and do better, I would. This is it. I mean, I like you, Glenn. I really do. You’re one of the best friends I ever had in this world, definitely the best one I still got, but I’m in this to make good on my mistakes as much as I am just ‘cuz I like you.”
“Does anyone do anything for just one reason?” I inquired genuinely.
“Maybe,” he chuckled and shook his head. “I wonder sometimes. Sounds egotistical to just assume I’m built different from other people, but I’ve seen so many randos motivated purely by money, or sex, or bitterness… I dunno. Not worth thinkin’ too hard about, I guess, unless I’m tryna get a read on someone.”
“Well, for what it’s worth I also think of you as the best friend I have right now.”
“Yeah?” A wry smile spread across his mug. “Even better than Tanis?”
“Maybe,” I shrugged and shook my head. “I honestly don’t know.”
“I just noticed you two started cozyin’ up.”
“Yeah. That’s… probably more complicated than it seems…”
“Eh, it ain’t really none of my business. Whatever makes you happy, chief. I’d just hate to see you get hurt in the process.”
“Me too,” I scoffed. “I’ve had more than enough of that in my lifetime. She doesn’t seem to be coming from a romantic place with it, and that’s weird for me, but it’s been awhile since I’ve been that close to anyone, and—” Red held up a forestalling hand.
“Like I said, chief; it’s none of my business. Speakin’ of which…”
Red moved his hand to point toward the street where Tanis was presently walking up. She looked freshly groomed, but was dressed the same as usual in her armor and fur-lined coat. My heart didn’t soar when I saw her, as delighted as I was, further throwing into confusion what ‘we’ were to each other. I’d spent my life being hung up on categorizing things, as much as I tried not to fall into the trap of stereotypes. It helped me to understand and interact with the world. The relationship between she and I being so obfuscated was a little stressful, but it’s also part of what made the entire arrangement exciting. Not knowing what to expect, what the next stage of our entanglement was, or if there even would be a next stage bred new mystery in what had become a predictable pattern in life for me. Red and I said our goodbyes, Tanis and I said our hellos, and the two of us sat down to some truly excellent music over dinner. The closest thing I could compare it to was wagakki, the small nezumi band led by a shamisen-playing vocalist and backed with guitar, koto, bamboo flute, and an array of drums. Sometimes the tempo picked up in a way that almost approached rock music, but mostly it remained in a more ponderous, plinky soundscape. My favorite song was one that sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite place. Maybe if I spoke Gengo the lyrics would help, but instead I gave up wondering and just closed my eyes, losing myself in the sound. Tanis laid her head on my shoulder in what was fast becoming a familiar, comfortable weight. Like the snowflakes playing in the wind outside, it brought me to a peaceful place.