Five versus three. Not great odds, least of all for a stranger. “Not our problem, Cara.”

Her hands were already resting on the handles of her daggers. “And?”

That look in her eyes said she wasn’t backing down. Ted sighed, shot her a glare, and readied himself to add to the list of times this world had tried to kill him. On the plus side, maybe Death would come through on that information he promised. “I’ve got your back, but, seriously?”

The leader of the pack glared in their direction. He smashed his fist against his chest and let out a roar. “This doesn’t concern you, pink-skins.”

Ted activated Discern Magic. Despite being armed for battle, there wasn’t a hint of magic about any of them. Given the risks involved in learning magic, especially for those without the stats for it, that made sense. He dropped Discern Magic, ridding himself of the distraction that came with the extra sensory input.

If mages were rare and dangerous, he could work with that. As Cara and the pack leader stared off at each other, Ted readied a Protection/Touch/Armor spell simple enough to be cast without any components beyond mere thought.

He placed his hand upon Cara’s shoulder and a teal aegis shimmered into existence around her. The spell’s potency was pitiful, but the way the pack leader flinched away was priceless.

The braying from the thugs stopped. Silence hung, balanced on a knife edge, ready to tip either way.

Five sets of wide, dark-orange eyes turned on Ted, testing his poker face to the limit. If he gave even the slightest hint of weakness, it would go badly wrong very quickly.

A second dragged into an eternity.

Then another.

The pack leader’s eyes narrowed, followed by a shake of his head. He grunted in a guttural language and stormed off, gesturing for the others to follow.

Ted clung to rigidity, refusing to let it go until they were gone. When the last of them disappeared around the corner, stale air rushed out of his lungs, carrying with it another decade’s worth of tension.

The armored orc continued staring out after the thugs, his posture fixed like a guard keeping watch. “Thank you,” he said, in a gruff tone that strongly suggested that was all he had to say on the matter.

Hopefully, that was the end of it.

Yeah, right.

“Nicely done,” Cara said, giving Ted the first proper smile in far too long.

“I’m just glad it worked.”

Her slender fingers wrapped around his wrist with surprising strength, and she tugged him in the direction of the tavern. “Come on, you need a drink, and I’m buying.”

He couldn’t help but laugh.

She tilted her head, the way she always did when confused. “What’s so funny?”

“My… Someone asked me to go for a drink, the night I got kidnapped and dragged here.”

“I’m sorry!” Her eyes widened and her hand shot over her mouth. “I didn’t know. Is that how they got you?”

“No. I didn’t go. Maybe if I had…”

“… then you wouldn’t be here.” Her lips pressed tight together. “It’s okay. I understand what it’s like to be apart from the place where you belong for potentially the rest of your life.”

Place where he belonged? Ted snorted. “I nearly had my life the way I wanted it. I was so damned close. But hey, at least I can cast magic now.”

“Why didn’t you go? For the drink, I mean?”

“Too busy.” Always too busy.

“As a scholar, right?”

How to explain a delivery warehouse to a wood elf? “No, manual labor.”

“With your stats?”

“No stats. Just paying the bills.”

“What a waste!” She tugged at his wrist again. “You have time now. Tomorrow, we work. Tonight, we relax.”

“How can you relax?” He certainly couldn’t. Sleeping out in the wilderness might come with its own problems, but at least they wouldn’t be surrounded by strangers. “We’re a long way from home on a quest that’s probably going to kill us.”

She grinned and took his hand in hers. “Exactly, the best time to relax!”

It made no sense, but then again, what did these days? He’d earned a stiff drink, and the opportunity to try orc beer was too good to pass up. “Alright, but only one.”

It wasn’t like saying no had done him any favors.

She pulled him inside. The well-lit tavern brimmed with raucous drinking, arguing, and singing that more closely resembled choking than a tune. Less crowded than a busy bar on Friday night, but viscerally and explosively alive.

A few of the orcs glanced idly at them before returning to their drinks and guttural banter. Despite the constant sense that a brawl or three was imminent, it felt safe. As safe as anywhere did, these days.

An older orc woman skulked in a corner, propped up by a gnarly staff. Her beady eyes remained fixed on a group of young orc men aggressively arguing. A sign hung above her, inscribed with a runic language. Orcish. Without a dictionary, translating it was out of the question.

“Don’t start a fight,” Cara whispered, and led him to a gap at the bar, giving a wide berth to the rowdier groups.

No shit. “How could that happen?”

“Healer’s in town, so…” She held up her hands and shrugged. “Pretty much anything might do it.”

A fight broke out right then, making her point for her. The group of young orcs that the old woman—the healer?—had been watching descended into an angry ball of fists, knees, and headbutts.

Great. They were surrounded by eight-foot-tall orcs with no entertainment but fighting. Not that an Earth bar would necessarily be much better if magical healing were on standby.

The orc woman behind the bar nodded at Cara and continued to dry off oversized tankards. Bald and stocky, she was shorter than most of the other orcs, yet still a good couple of inches taller than him. Behind her hung a large bronze bell, heavily worn and chipped in places.

She put her tankard and worryingly-ratty rag off to the side and flashed Cara a toothy grin. “Half-strength, or quarter?”

“Quarter,” Cara said, without the slightest hesitation. She clambered onto a crude barstool way too tall for her and patted the one beside her. “For me and my friend here.”

“Quarter-strength?” Ted said, wondering if he’d really heard that right. “I might not drink much these days, but I’ve had my fair share.”

The bartender looked him up and down, sending the tingling down his spine of being Identified, and she roared with laughter. She addressed Cara and gestured at Ted like he couldn’t hear them. “This one’s funny. His first time in an orc bar?”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Cara nodded and shared a knowing smile with the bartender.

Of course, orc beer wasn’t like human beer. He should have kept his mouth shut.

“Two quarters, coming right up. Room for the night?”

“Please,” Cara said, handing the orc a few coins. “Single’s fine.”

Ted’s eyebrow shot up.

She shrugged. “No point paying for a second bed I don’t need.”

“That’s the spirit,” the bartender said, slapping down two heavy tankards before them. “Don’t worry about noise. We’re used to it here.”

Cara’s face and ears flushed red. “No, not like that, we’re not—you know—” She shrunk back in her stool, blinking and looking frantically between Ted and the cackling orc.

The bartender flashed another grin, somehow full of cheer despite the array of razor-sharp teeth. “Just teasin’. You’re not the first wood elf I’ve had pass through, and you won’t be the last, neither. I’m always happy for less sheets to clean and beds to make.”

An orc at the end of the bar shouted, pulling the bartender away, leaving the two of them with their drinks. Cara stared down into her drink and tentatively sipped at it, no doubt wishing that the world would swallow her whole.

Following suit, Ted stared down at his own beer, and the foam obscuring whatever horrors lurked beneath. Well, only one way to find out. For science.

He hefted up the huge tankard, braced himself, and took a sniff.

Huh. He sniffed again, savoring the nutty aroma. Maybe not everything here was terrible. Unless it was a trap, lulling him into a false sense of security before hitting him with a vile blow to the stomach.

He placed the tankard back down and watched Cara sipped away at hers, the stiffness in her shoulders slowly abating. Risking their lives for a stranger had been insane, but he couldn’t bring himself to say she’d been wrong.

What had he gotten himself into?

She glanced over at him, her eyes meeting his for a fleeting liaison before flitting back down to the bar. “You don’t mind, do you? About the room?”

“No.” He kept his face impassive. It made sense to concentrate their forces, and no point paying for a bed when she’d sleep on the floor anyway. “It’s safer. More efficient.”

“Right.” Cara nodded curtly. “Efficient.” She took another sip and gestured for him to start on his. “So, Ted Earth Not-Really-A-Scholar, why are you really doing this?”

Drinking suddenly more appealing than ever, Ted hefted up the tankard and took a gulp. Not bad—a little bitter, perhaps, but certainly nothing to worry about.

Then came the kick.

It hit like a truck. He coughed and spluttered, hurting his hand as he slammed it against the bar. “That’s… that’s quarter-strength?”

“Mm-hmm.” Cara casually took another sip, her glowing smile far too smug. “First time in an orc bar?”

“No.” He took another dry, bitter sip. Ready for it this time, he held the kick under control, but the damage was already done. “I’ve been in plenty.”

“Uh-huh. Sure, of course you have.”

Hang on a moment. “You’ve never been out of the Forest before now.”

She turned away, her cheeks a little rosier. “You’re dodging the question. Why are you really doing this?”

Why was he? He shrugged. “I have a quest. What else am I going to do?”

“A quest to save a world you don’t even want to save.”

He flinched and took another drink. Why the hell should he? “I’m doing it, aren’t I? What more do you want?”

“You aren’t the kind of guy to do anything without a reason, certainly not just because the System gave you a quest.”

“Maybe I am.” Or maybe it’s the only way I can get home. He clenched the tankard and gulped down another mouthful. The beer was meant to be strong. It had better hurry to the rescue. “What makes you so sure?”

“For starters, you made me explain the why to literally every single thing I’ve ever taught you.”

She had a point there. Ted took another swig. Was she done yet?

“You always think before you act.”

“Hey! You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Sometimes it is! Sometimes you just have to dive in there without thinking.”

“That why you’re here?” Fire burned hotter and hotter in his chest, refusing to shut up and sit still anymore. “You spoke up without thinking and now you’re too scared to back out?”

Her eyes widened. She looked away and slumped in her chair.

It was unfair, and he’d already gone too far, but the words kept coming. “Have you even read what it’s like outside the Forest? It’s dangerous, it’s brutal, it’s unforgiving, and the Divine Empire is worse.”

She bit her lip and swallowed. “I know. It’s—” Her gaze dropped down to her drink. She sighed and sipped at it. “Forget it.”

It wasn’t her fault. Ted stared down at his own drink, instantly regretting it. With most of the foam gone, the off-green tinge of the beer beneath was visible, and more than a little off-putting. What was even in it?

No, definitely not a question he wanted the answer to, not when he desperate needed to keep drinking. He took another bitter sip, praying that it would drown the guilt pooling in the pit of his stomach.

Midway through the almost welcome relief of the kick, he could have sworn he heard a familiar squeak come from Cara’s direction. Except, that couldn’t be right. The beer couldn’t have had that big an effect already, could it?

And again, another squeak, one that sounded exactly like Nibbles.

Surely she hadn’t…?

Ted closed his eyes, rolled back his head, and, for one final moment, embraced the delusion that it was a beer-fueled imagination.

“No, no, no, you won’t like that, darling.”

Yup, Cara wasn’t talking to him, and no, he hadn’t imagined it. He looked down at the bar to see her redirecting Nibbles away from her tankard. “You brought Nibbles?” His shoulders sagged at the confirmation and he shook his head, wishing he didn’t believe it. Of course she had.

“I was going to find someone to look after her.” Cara shifted in her seat and hunched over her drink. “Then I forgot. Then I remembered, but it was too late, and Jeremy would have said no, and I really wanted Nibbles to come and… surprise?”

Ted held his head in his hands and focused on slow, calming breaths. The alternative—shouting and hurling obscenities—only grew more tempting by the second.

“She’d only have missed me, anyway.” Cara petted the creature, eliciting loud purring. “See how happy she is? And since she’s my pet, nothing can hurt her while she’s in my inventory. It’s fine!”

Deep breaths. Calm thoughts. He let out a sigh and held up his hands. “She’s here now, so…”

“Nib-nibs loves me, yes you do, yes you do! You’re so glad you can come. You don’t get mad at me, no you don’t, not even after being stuck in a smelly little pack for days.”

“I’m not mad at you. I just want her to be safe.”

Cara leaned in closer and her wide emerald eyes locked on his. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re terrible at relaxing?”

Despite himself, he chuckled. “Not in those exact words.”

“We’ll work on that.” A smile lit up her face, as if she wasn’t still in major trouble. “You just need more practice, that’s all.”

He should have been mad at her, but, somehow, he just couldn’t muster it. Maybe it was the booze. Maybe it was that dangerously infectious smile of hers. Or maybe it was Nibbles gnawing on his ear.

Ted reached up and petted the little darling. It wasn’t her fault that Cara made interesting choices, and she was undeniably cute as all hell, even if she was a mischievous little scamp.

Just like her owner, really.

He slammed back another gulp of the bitter oblivion. They had a quest to complete, a world to save, and then he’d be gone, back to his own world, his own life, one where no one tried to kill him, outside of working him to death.

A heavy clunk dragged his focus back toward Cara. A hulking armored orc—the one from outside—had propped himself against the bar, too close to Cara for comfort. The brute hadn’t even removed his helm, although at least his visor was up. Beneath was a face smooth by orc standards, and a smile that even the two huge but perfectly symmetrical tusks protruding from his lower jaw couldn’t ruin.

“Who’s this beautiful creature washed up in the town I saved?” His voice was smooth, refined even, with a gravelly undertone that added to the timbre rather than dragging it down into the guttural harshness Ted had come to expect.

Cara blushed, blinked twice, and turned toward the orc. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, and she mumbled, “Nibbles.”

In contrast to the bartender’s gregarious grin, this orc’s smile was forced. What was he playing at? Ted activated Identify and awaited the results.

“That’s a beautiful name,” the orc said, leaning in even closer, “but that wasn’t the creature I meant.”

Red filled out Cara’s cheeks. She brought her hand up over her mouth and stared down at her drink.

Gramok Kadora

Level: 15

Gramok whispered something in her ear. She tensed up. Her shoulders pushed back and her jaw set.

“If he’s bothering you…” Ted said, trying to come up with a plan for if he was. Wrestling or fist fighting the orc was a non-starter, and escalating to magic with a level 15 felt like a terrible idea.

Cara gave him a stiff shake of her head and plastered on a smile. “He’s not bothering me. In fact, well…” She leaned over and whispered in Ted’s ear. “Don’t stare, don’t Identify them, but those thugs are incoming.”

Shit.

His ideal battle plans involved time to precast, distance, and being on the right side of an ambush. An impromptu bar brawl with tight quarters, lots of enemies, and only one exit was pretty much the exact opposite of ideal. “Don’t know if we have the time. We have business to be getting on with.”

“I’m doing it.” She straightened up and glanced back at Gramok, conveniently giving her sight of the door. “With or without you.”

Ted risked a glance of his own. Five orc thugs, the same ones as before. Not great odds. Their hands resting on weapons suggested this wasn’t going to be a punch-up, either.

Gramok grinned for real this time. “We play hard in this town.”

Another three thugs swaggered through the door, with equally bare chests and similar white necklaces. Two took up position behind the rest of the gang while the third hung back. He leaned against a wall, his gaze darting around the room with a cold, calculating expression.

The other patrons exchanged glances and made hasty retreats, most of them carrying their drinks. Another sign this would not be pretty.

Nibbles retreated into Cara’s pack while Cara unslung her bow and nocked an arrow. Of course another three foes wouldn’t stop her doing the right thing. One day, that idealism was going to get her killed.

But not today, not if Ted had anything to say about it. He put on his game face and rose to his feet. “I’ve got your back.”

As the last of the patrons left, the bartender retreated out the back and Gramok’s visor clanked down. In the corner, the healer erected a magical barrier around herself. She leaned forward and rubbed her hands together, watching with unrestrained glee, no doubt expecting more trade soon enough.

The leader of the pack advanced, brandishing a serrated scimitar and a sneer. “Human, elf. Last chance. This doesn’t concern you.”