“So you know why Heroes have bad luck,” said Rusk. “Do enlighten me.”

“You must’ve really grown up somewhere isolated to not know the rumors.”

“Not from around here, no.”

Loretta pondered.

“What?” said Rusk. “Decided not to tell me after all? I guess that’s just my luck.”

Giggling, Loretta ordered hard whiskey. She received it for free on the house. Even if her father the mayor didn’t know of her midnight excursions, it seemed the rest of the populace was accustomed to them. Or at least the people currently present within the bar.

“Didn’t mean to be rude,” said Rusk. “Hard day.”

“Finding out a mentor betrayed your trust will do that.”

“Have you been spying on me or something?”

“Not on you. On Greil.’’

When she put it that way to Rusk it made total sense.

The clatter of the bar died down and in the corner in different clothing, casual attire from what Rusk had seen of the rest of the town, was the servant of the mayor who had smirked at Rusk during dinner.

“You’re gonna get found out,” said Rusk, indicating the servant with a slight jut of his chin.

Loretta spun around and waved at the servant. “Nah. Felix won’t turn me in. Father doesn’t pay him enough for that.”

Felix. Rusk committed the name to memory. He’d never heard it before. He guessed he might be farther away from home than he first thought. The time spent travelling with Greil all strung together. The realization struck Rusk that he didn’t actually know how far he’d gone with the old Hero.

“So about that bad luck,” said Loretta as she spun back to face the bar. Her stool squeaked and Rusk entertained the idea it might get caught on her dress, but it didn’t. “Greil was employed by the king, supposedly, but the issue with that story is the king has it out for Heroes.”

“What? Why?”

Loretta shrugged. She sipped more of her whiskey in a manner that indicated Rusk definitely wasn’t going to get any more information on that front out of her. His only consolation was she probably herself didn’t know.

Felix came over to sit next to Rusk at the bar, effectively pinching him between Loretta and himself.

“Have as much fun at the awkward dinner as I did?” said Rusk by way of greeting. Something about Felix put him at ease. The guy had an appealing quiet confidence. Perhaps it reminded Rusk of Mandy. Or perhaps that was nostalgia coloring his perceptions. No matter where he went he always missed her, so he ended up imagining glimpses of her everywhere. They followed Rusk like phantoms.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“I would imagine so,” said Felix in good humor. It broke Rusk out of his memories. “Though it would be kind of you not to mention it to my employer. I’d hate to have blind obedience removed from my list of virtues.”

Rusk snorted.

“See?” said Loretta. “Told you Felix isn’t the type to rat anyone out.”

Felix had no drink on hand and didn’t order one. He had his soft smile for the barmaid and that was it. He sat very properly in the stool, but not rigidly. His forearms were braced against the bar so his elbows never intruded on other people’s space, and his hands were folded at the fingers comfortably. Polite yet casual. Respectful but commanding of his own space.

“So what’s your story?” asked Rusk. “How come a guy who carries himself like you do is working for that potbelly mayor?”

Loretta nearly choked on her whiskey. She’d been throwing it back fine until Rusk asked the question. “Wouldn’t you be more interested in the bad luck explanation?”

“I tackle the mysteries as they come. The bad luck thing has been hanging over my head ever since I was a kid. One more conversational delay won’t do much to derail it.”

“If you say so,” said Loretta.

“Perhaps I’m a spy,” said Felix conspiratorially.

“A spy wouldn’t admit they were a spy,” said Rusk.

Felix smiled calmly.

Rusk didn’t know how he felt about that expression. He guzzled the rest of his water, debating whether to make an exit and return to the mayor’s room for him for the night.

“Luck depends on perspective,” said Felix.

“Another of Felix’s philosophy lessons,” said Loretta as she slid her empty glass down the bar for the barmaid to retrieve.

“Perspective?”

“Think of it this way,” said Felix. “One person’s misfortune can be another’s fortune, depending on the situation.”

“I don’t like that trail of thinking,” said Rusk.

“Then you must be naïve.”

Loretta put her head down on the bar. She was either finally feeling the alcohol or done with this conversation.

“Does naïve translate as no morals to you?” asked Rusk.

Felix’s smile spread thin. He never showed his teeth even when he grinned.

“I’m just saying it’s a slippery slope,” said Rusk, and then wondered why he felt so compelled to defend his position here.

“Fair,” said Felix. “But the truth is often built on a foundation of those. Finding the moral balance is the real challenge, not the truth itself. The truth simply is.”

“Maybe I need an example.” There was no lack of skepticism in Rusk’s tone.

Loretta groaned. “Don’t ask for examples. Now you’ve got him talking and he’ll never shut up about it for as long as you live.”

“Is that Loretta Rose or Miss Whiskey talking?” asked Felix.

Loretta groaned again. No more commentary from her.

“A woodsman cuts down a tree for firewood. Bad luck for the tree, good luck for the woodsman.”

“That’s not luck,” said Rusk. “That’s a choice.”

Felix tilted his head in a way that might’ve meant he was impressed, but also might’ve meant he was indulging Rusk like a patronizing teacher. “A person loses a key.”

Rusk’s spine straightened automatically.

“The key opens a box that helps another person, who happens to find the key.”

Rusk’s jaw tightened.

“The person who first had the key had been instructed to keep the key safe, and accordingly gets punished by the person who gave them their orders.”

Rusk’s teeth were grinding. He would wonder if it could be heard over the noise of the bar if his temper weren’t spiking into infuriation.

“But the box contains the one thing that can help the person who finds the key after the first person loses it. One is reprimanded. The other gets a windfall. Whose luck wins out?”

“And what if the box was empty,” challenged Rusk. “What if the person who said keep track of this key didn’t have any actual reason for putting that job on someone else? What if the person who opens the box doesn’t get anything even after this supposed windfall?”

“The box does contain the necessary item. And you’re overlooking the main element here, which is the loss and finding of the key. Why are you so riled over a fable?”

Rusk forced himself to take a deep breath and calm down. He blew a breath out his mouth. “Fables are different once you’ve experienced them firsthand. Or secondhand.” He rubbed the back of his head, yanking on his hair to get ahold of himself. “Sorry. I’m tired. I think I’ll go back and turn in.”

“Take care,” said Felix, and Rusk got the sense he really meant it.