Goldmi was glad to meet Maldoa. After her initial experience with the group of thugs, she feared that it wasn’t going to be a peaceful stay, but the drelf had been very kind. They had certainly hit it off. So much so, that she had even changed her bed to the one next to the elf, and they had been up late chatting.

“She isn’t arrogant at all. Even nice. Maybe she isn’t what I thought she would. And it’s quite rare that she calls her companion ‘sister’, since she’s barely level 30. I guess it’s my fault to expect her to be a spoiled girl, and find the opposite. I’ll have to find out more tomorrow,” the drelf told herself.

The truth was that she had waited for the thugs to enter, in order to arrive and save her from an unpleasant situation. So, she could approach her and fulfill her mission. She hadn’t expected that the elf could resolve it on her own.

Also, that elf wasn’t the person she thought she was going to be either. She had made a picture that didn’t correspond to reality, and now she felt somewhat guilty for having prejudged her, and also for deceiving her. No doubt the drelf was beginning to like her. The elf was humble, pleasant, and perhaps a little insecure, far from what she had expected.

And there was something else, something that made her feel close to her. She didn’t really know what it was, but she did know that it was due to her dryad half. There was something about this elf that attracted that half, something that intrigued her.

She was more and more convinced that she had been completely wrong about her target, that the reason why the elf had to be protected was very different from what she had imagined. In fact, she was beginning to think that being chosen for the mission was no accident.

She used a small artifact to place a weak shield over both of them, which would wake her up if something tried to break through. Although she didn’t doubt that the feline wouldn’t let anything get near her sister.

Maldoa almost dragged the elf to breakfast. On the one hand, she didn’t want to miss the opportunity to introduce her to her group, as that way she could keep an eye on her. On the other, she felt somewhat guilty for lying to her, even if it was to protect her.

“I’m Viclot, the leader of the group, and its shield,” a dwarf with a huge shield on her back and a mug of beer in his hand presented himself. “I’m here to beat up those losts.”

“And to be able to show off when you go back home,” an imposing demihuman of just over two meters, and whose horns were similar to those of a bull, sneered. “I’m Tarbhnor. I’m in charge of crushing those that this shorty blocks.”

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“So big, but you can’t even hold a couple of jugs,” the dwarf laughed amiably, finished his drink and looked defiantly at his companion.

“Don’t care about those two. They are a bit scandalous, but good people. I’m Crogall, an offensive mage. And you know Maldoa, our healer,” a reptilian-looking man politely introduced himself.

“So, are you coming with us? We could do with an archer. And better with one that knows tracking. Your sister would be a good support too,” pressed the drelf, who didn’t want to let her escape, as it would mean to lose sight of her.

She was precisely in that group because an archer would fit perfectly. If the elf went with them, she could make sure to protect her if necessary. But, suddenly, someone interrupted them.

“You must be the new archer. Let me introduce myself, I am Krusledón, fourth prince of the kingdom of Engenak. Our group is missing an archer, especially one as charming as you. It would be a pleasure to have you. We would reward you handsomely for your help.”

He was a young human man of about twenty-five years old, handsome, well-mannered, and very well-dressed. It was obvious the quality of his weapons and clothing, as well as his expensive jewelry. The rest of his group, also humans, were waiting behind, and forming as if they were soldiers.

Without a doubt, many would have found that proposition highly interesting, but not so Goldmi. She didn’t need rewards, and preferred the company of her newfound friend, plus she liked the rest of the group.

And, not least, that extreme refinement was something that had already seduced her in the past, and it hadn’t ended well. She might be biased against anything that resembled her ex, but she couldn’t help it. She hated those compliments out of nowhere.

“I appreciate your offer, but I’ve already promised,” she declined, while trying to not offend him.

“Oh that’s a pity. If you change your mind, let me know. If you come back soon, we could as well meet for dinner tonight,” he offered, and turned around without waiting for an answer.

“She has undoubtedly promised, I’ve heard it perfectly,” the dwarf laughed when they left.

“I… I’m sorry… I…” the elf tried to apologize for having lied.

“Don’t pay attention to that dwarf, he doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. I’d have done the same,” the drelf supported her, and hit the dwarf on the shoulder. It seemed like a friendly blow, but it made the shield scowl.

“Where does that damn drelf get so much strength from?” he cursed inside.

The truth was that Maldoa’s level was much higher than she was supposed to. Although she was a mage, so physical strength wasn’t her specialty, her parameters were still quite high for a level 31.

However, the dwarf didn’t say a word about it. He was too proud to admit that it had hurt. In fact, it wasn’t much worse than the friendly blows from his fellow dwarfs back home. Or his to them.

When a nostalgic smile appeared on Viclot’s face, Maldoa felt a chill.

“Is he a masochist?” she wondered, but she didn’t want to express her thoughts aloud either.

Soon after, they left, despite the lynx’s complaints about the food. She was used to her sister’s, so the one they had given to her there was a bit bland.

Goldmi had to force herself to contain her laughter, and ended up being forced to promise to give her some tender pastries when no one were looking.

It was a somewhat unusual group, in which there was a visitor, and a magician almost 30 levels above what it appeared. Although very few had all the information. Not even them.

Nor did they know that the leader of another group was looking at them unfriendly, especially at the elf. He wasn’t used to not getting what he wanted.