Wonder why I'm nervous.

Logically speaking, there was very little reason for Adam to feel like this. He was about to see his two best friends in this world. They were finally reuniting after a long, bloody battle – one that could've easily ended with all of them dead.

Yet despite the odds, through a combination of grit and luck, they had won. A coalition of upstarts had humbled the Emperor of the World.

And the people he cared most for had survived.

During his carriage ride to Penumbria, Adam had often pictured this moment as a triumphant return. He would throw open the double-doors to his manor and greet everyone with a cocky grin, saying something along the lines of: 'Of course we won. What, did you ever think otherwise?'

But…that just didn't feel right – didn't feel honest. Not after everything that happened.

People had died. People had lived. People had suffered. People would yet suffer.

Somehow, simply celebrating – as if he were pleased about how things went – would've felt like a lie.

As his hand touched the door handle, Adam felt a wave of anxiety swallow him up. He wasn't focused on what they had won, but on what they had nearly lost. If I'd been just slightly slower during my Realm Clashes…if I hadn't painted Eric's soul…if Solara failed to hold back the Hangwoman…if Tenver didn't stall the Emperor…if Ferrero lost his duel with the elf…if Valeria hadn't…

There were dozens, hundreds of possibilities where Adam wouldn't be standing here today. Outcomes where he, his friends, and all of Penumbria would've faded to ash and been thrown to the wind.

So when the Lord of Penumbria, the Painter Lord, the King of the Frontier, entered the room and saw his two friends waiting for him, no gloating words touched his tongue. Instead, his hands shook, his throat caught, his eyes watered, and–

"Hey…ah, hey guys," Adam managed weakly. "Looks like I'm back. And we're all alive. Who'd have thought. Not me, ha. Haha. I…I really thought I was never going to see you guys again, you know? We…"

His voice gave up any pretense of stillness, shaking with every motion he'd been forcing down until now. "WE'RE ALL HERE!"

There was no arrogant smirk, no pretense of regality, no forced distance so that he wouldn't be hurt again. There were only tears – and both of his friends leaping into his arms at once, so quickly that they found themselves on the floor. The three of them shared that same tight, desperate embrace, letting out the anxiety that none had allowed themselves to feel on the battlefield.

No one stood or moved for a long time. They merely laid there on the cold stone floor, holding one another, laughing nervously all the while.

"Welcome back…" Tenver stuttered out. "...My lord."

Solara laughed through her sobs. "Tenver, I swear to the Forest, if you ruin this moment–"

"–You didn't call me Puppet," he noted. Despite his earlier attempt, he gave up putting on airs. "Thank you."

Before entering the Great Hall, Adam had ordered that none else be let inside. It would just be him, Tenver, and Solara for the rest of the night.

Much was still left to be done in Penumbria. They had orders to give, plans to prepare, wounds to tend, people to grieve, and guilt to bear.

Yet there would be time later for regrets and apologizing to the fallen. Tomorrow they would perform whatever duties were required of them.

Tonight, however…

Tonight belonged to them.

Just for now, they allowed themselves the selfishness of being happy.

Hours flew by as they laughed and drank. They retold glorious versions of their battles to one another, the tellings growing more exaggerated with each sip. It was as if they hadn't just survived a dance with death – as if they weren't still facing a most dangerous fate.

Throughout that festive haze, everything felt right.

–

Tenver returned to the Great Hall dual-wielding a lute and a rather large glass of rum. "Since we didn't invite any bards to this ce…lebration…"

He stumbled drunkenly, his body nearly collapsing beneath its own weight, but his smile never faltered. "I thought I ought to take it upon myself to bless our ears."

From atop the Penumbria throne – which had been horribly stained with wine – Adam leaned forward, his eyes widening. "Tenver, you can play the lute?"

In response, the Puppet Prince raised his chin, confidently lifted a single eyebrow, and brought his left hand down onto the strings to show that–

"–NO!" Solara shouted, covering her ears and throwing herself onto the ground, rolling as if escaping an explosion. "HE REALLY FUCKING CAN'T!"

–

The flickering flames danced merrily, casting playful shadows on the walls. How long had they been burning by now?

Solara raised both arms over her head in victory. She cast her gaze at the completed gameboard down below, then raised it to look her opponents in their eyes. "Told you I could handle both of you at the same time," she taunted.

Adam tried to handle the loss with grace. "Well," he started, "you uh, are very good at this thing because…" Why was she good at it, again?

Did I drink enough water? Maybe. Am I going to regret this 'not enough water' thing tomorrow? Yeah.

He peered at Solara, realizing his mouth was still open. "What was I saying?"

Tenver had considerably less grace. "This is a sham!" he cried out, in a tone of aggrieved indignance. "This entire game is a sham! It's – it's an Imperial lie! As the true Emperor, I declare it illegal!"

Solara fell back from her chair, her cup empty enough to make her ask with genuine dread, "Y–You aren't serious, right Tenver? C'mon–buddy–my Puppet brother–"

It occurred to Adam that maybe he hadn't explained how important Espada-de-Guerra was as a game to Solara. Tenver might not have known that the inebriated elf was going to genuinely panic over this.

Unfortunately, Adam was too drunk himself to voice this concern aloud. How would he even string that thought into a coherent sentence?

Eh. Much easier to slam his glass down onto the table, and below out, "AND AS KING OF THE FRONTIER, I MAKE IT LEGAL!"

He missed the table and tossed his glass onto the floor.

Rather than attempt to clean it, the trio wordlessly agreed to avoid that part of the Great Hall.

–

"C'mon, show me!" Solara demanded. "I didn't see the Puppet Arm yet – show me!"

Adam tilted his head. "Wait, didn't Tenver use it when we fought the Ghost of Waters? You were there for that."

"I was dead for most of that."

"Oh, yeah, right. Man that was an odd fight." Adam turned to Tenver and shrugged, as if the matter was settled. "Anyway, she makes a fair point. Off with the armor."

Tenver feigned a hearty protest. "Why, that is most uncouth of you to ask that of me, my lord."

"Take it off already, pretty boy," Solara said, with a parody of seductiveness in her tone – before pausing to make sure she wouldn't throw up. "C'mooon! What kind of monster drinks this much with a full suit of armor on, anyway?"

Adam understood, too late, that Tenver's brief reticence wasn't because he minded showing off his Puppet Arm. The knight's unvoiced objection, locked away deep inside his mind by the alcohol, was that he wasn't nearly sober enough to unleash an extremely large arm upon a room filled with delicate breakable things.

None of them acknowledged the broken glassware, the goblets sent rolling down the ground, or any of the pandemonium that came when Tenver's Puppet Arm left his armor.

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

–

"Don't you dare move," Solara threatened.

"How the fuck would I?" Adam protested, wriggling uselessly as Tenver held him above the ground with full use of his Puppet Arm. When this didn't work, he turned to his knight and shouted, "Traitor!"

Tenver's eyes sparkled, showing a suave smile that would've suggested a clever plan – had the man not wobbled from side to side. "My Adam Lord," he said, with a look of intense concentration, "Solara made a good point. You used your skill to paint those tattoos on us. It's only fair we get to do the same."

"It's not the same at all!" Adam protested, panicking. "I'm an actual artist! I know what I'm doing! I even did an internship at an admittedly sorta shady tattoo shop, like dude I–"

Solara stepped forward, wielding an unsteady, ink-soaked brush on one hand. "Don't move, I'm not good at this," she mumbled, holding her hand as still as she could.

Then, after freezing in silence for two seconds, she swept her brush upward – as if forgetting her original mission entirely – and gazed at Tenver with trembling eyes. "Wait, did, did you just call me something other than Elf?"

The Knight paused. "I'm pretty sure I've done that befo–"

"THAT'S SO NICE!" She sank to her feet, hopelessly drawing more paint onto Adam as she did so. He protested weakly, then halted in exasperation as he saw her crying. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU CALLED ME THAT!"

Adam drew a deep breath. Shit. Sober up. Have to make sure she's not doing badly. "Solara, this isn't the first time he–"

"YOU TOO!" She cried even more.

"I'VE NEVER CALLED YOU ELF!" Adam protested, all care and concern forgotten. "LITERALLY NOT ONCE!"

"Oh?" Like a shut-off valve, Solara's tears abruptly stopped as she frowned in concentration. Her face lit up a moment later. "That is true – Adam, you're fantastic. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. You're fucking great. You never called me Elf and you made Espada-de-Guerra the Kingdom of the Frontier's national sport!"

Despite his mind's haziness, Adam was decently certain he'd never approved that last bit. "Really, really don't think I said it would be."

"You…didn't?" Solara fell to her knees in despair again.

"Okay, so she's drunker than…me. Which is probably a lot." He wasn't sure, but he was pretty certain. "Tenver, do you think we should cut her off for a bi–"

That question came to a sudden halt when the Puppet Prince dropped him on the floor, and also started to despair.

Tenver sobbed. "Why do you hate our sport, Adam?"

Okay, they drank too much, was Adam's first thought. Hmm, or maybe I haven't drank enough, was his second, winning thought.

–

"If I had any connection to my home culture, I'd probably be deeply offended by this," Solara shouted, even though the two were standing right next to her. "But I don't, so like, whatever, keep testing how sharp my ears are. I'm honestly kinda curious, never really experimented with that."

Adam placed a chunk of cheese through Solara's left ear. "Huh. Didn't know they were this sharp," he mused. "That's so…"

The word fascinating came to mind, but pronouncing it seemed impossible. "So rad."

"The sharpness changes depending on my mood," Solara muttered, then winced. "Careful – this hurts a little."

"Okay," he promised her. "Also, do you want to unpack what you mentioned about not being connected to your culture or–"

"NOPE!" Solara said gleefully, turning her wine glass upside down.

The block of cheese fell.

After a moment, Tenver tested his Puppet Arm against her right ear, finding that the massive wooden prosthetic rather predictably proved too resilient for it. Upon this, the Knight grinned and laughed. "I win," he declared.

"The fuck you do," Solara shouted, stumbling to her feet and rushing at him like a mad bull.

–

Everything felt right in that festive, ridiculous drunken haze – even as the effects of alcohol started to fade, and the first signs of a hangover started to manifest themselves. Never a good sign when your head hurts before you can fall asleep.

In fact, everything felt so right that continuing their revelries would've been as easy as it was tempting. But because of how much this moment meant to them…Adam knew there was something else he needed to say.

Something long overdue.

And quite frankly, it was much easier to bring up after drinking half his body mass in liquid courage.

"You guys sort of know I don't really belong here," Adam muttered. "And even if I haven't said exactly how, I imagine you could probably guess. You never insisted too much, but…I should probably tell you now."

Tenver and Solara shared a look of confusion – that gradually morphed into one of slow understanding. Neither spoke a word.

"The reason I have this weird Talent…the reason no one knows where I'm really from…"

He steeled his resolve. "Is that I'm not from this world."

He told them more than that. He told them everything – About his parents, about Eric, about the art contest, about coming into this world, his Talent, his meeting with the Second Painter, the Rot…Adam left no detail unexplained.

"At first, I hid those things because I was afraid you'd use them against me," he admitted, shamefully. "Couldn't really trust anyone after Eric. But after that, I…to be honest, I think I kept quiet because I was afraid it would freak you guys out. That maybe you'd get scared, and just…leave. I don't know."

This wasn't how Adam had planned on telling them. He'd rehearsed this exact scene a thousand times in his head. That Adam was always much more dignified, exhibiting far less vulnerability than the fragile, hesitant voice slipping out of his mouth right now.

But those plans also hadn't accounted for all three of them being sprawled out on the floor of Penumbria's Great Hall, unable to stand up after a night of drinking. And even in the most optimistic version of his fantasies, he definitely hadn't thought his friends would appear so…

Unconcerned.

"I was willingly possessed by a Ghost," Solara remarked, shrugging. "Which was after negotiating with the Dark Sorcerer – the same man who put you here to begin with. And you coming from another world got me out of that tower, so why would I care?"

"I was willingly possessed by a Ghost after negotiating with the Dark Sorcerer," Solara remarked, shrugging. "The same man who put you here to begin with. And you coming from another world got me out of that tower so – why would I complain?"

"Adam, I quite literally died once," Tenver said, with a dark laugh. "Do you think me that much of a hypocrite to care about your background? You are here, and you are you. That's all we need to know."

"Exactly," Solara said, nodding. "Except…"

She paused, holding her silence for a long moment.

"Except, fuck that Eric Gryphon guy. What a shitstain of a human being."

Tenver nodded in solemn agreement. "While I am positive that the Second Painter will be our adversary in the future, today I say…"

He held a glass of wine to the sky. "We drink in his name, for he killed that insufferable prick!"

Adam smiled so wide that it hurt, his anxieties melting away like snow under a warm sun. He raised his own glass to meet their toasts – although he did fill their cups with water this time.