With a stack of paperwork now folded neatly into her small bag, Stella was free to continue her day off.

Requests were either mailed to the guild or delivered by hand on most occasions, but Stella made a point to drop by their regulars when she had an hour to spare. With the amount of traders, merchants, travelers, and adventurers passing through the capital on a daily basis, stock ran low – which is where the guild could help!

It also allowed Stella to personally greet and befriend the shopkeepers, to know who they were, about their family, and whether they could count on their business in the future.

Viktor was a good guildmaster, but he lacked a personal touch. Perhaps when Stella was past her first 100 years she would feel differently and have earned the right to be ornery.

She frowned as a thought hit her. She needed to swing by the chemist; they were located elsewhere, near the tea shop instead of in this line of storefronts. Hallvar probably wouldn’t mind a second stop.

Stella had trouble finding the adventurer for a moment until she spotted a flash of their red hair. They were crouching low to the ground, pointing at something in a planter and speaking.

Channeling the guildmaster, she approached slowly as to not disturb them.

“It’s there! Get it!” Hallvar cheerfully pointed among the bushes, a silly grin on their face. “Pounce! Oooh, almost. You gotta keep up!”

Stella could hear a rustling from inside the bush. As she watched – with Hallvar continuing to quietly cheer the thing on – an akergryph hopped out of the leaves to perch on the brick edging, chewing on a now-decapitated grasshopper.

She couldn’t help but laugh.

Hallvar snapped to attention at the sound, startled but then a little embarrassed. “Oh, hi, again. We were hunting – she was, I was coaching.”

They stood up, rubbing the back of their neck to soothe the awkwardness of having been caught being a shameless pet-dad. That gesture only drew attention to the new leather bracer and single pauldron, both in a matching red-brown.

“The armorer picked a good color for you,” Stella began. “You and—?” She squatted down to look at the akergryph, who moved over a little on the brickwork but didn’t flee.

“Pipkin.” Hallvar filled in the blank, though the name was like an awkward confession once more. Goofy and silly and mildly embarrassing.

It was good Stella found them cute when their ears were that bright shade of red.

“Pipkin!” The little creature finished crunching down the long grasshopper legs as she eyed the elf, beady dark eyes flitting here and there in assessment. “She’s beautiful. And she’s your first! Congrats!”

Regardless of whether the beast was combat-able, a beastmaster’s first companion was an important one. It was the being who dictated how the beastmaster understood their class, the one to establish their long-term methodology.

A Tawha wolf from the wilds was difficult to train. Taming it only guaranteed it wouldn’t try and eat you; otherwise, the beast had to be given strict commands and boundaries.

Beastmasters who began with Tawha wolves tended to be regimented in their training of later beasts.

Meanwhile, a beastmaster who started with a domestic pet did better with pre-trained creatures or those that easily took to praise without needing correction.

The akergryph was a good middle ground. The fancier breeds of akergryph were intended as housepets; however, the wild ones were caught from a [ territory ] in the northeastern section of the Qhai Republic that bordered Amnasín.

Pipkin was certainly wild. Breeding hunting akergryphs was a frustrating feat, as they were common in that [ territory ] but their size ranged immensely. Catching two of the same size, opposite sexes, who would cooperate for breeding? Near impossible.

Her presence in the guild informed some of Stella’s understanding, but the majority of her knowledge of beastmasters and akergryphs came from her upbringing. Hunting akergryphs weren’t common, but any rural beastmaster who got a bit of money wanted one.

Hallvar recovered enough from their embarrassment to lift Pipkin onto their shoulder, where she contentedly perched and watched for more tasty grasshoppers.

“Where to?” they asked.

“The chemist, then we can tour the city. How does that sound?”

Stella took their hand once more. Was that something she did for everyone? Or was it just her normal way of guiding people?

The pair ambled over to the chemist, enjoying the sun and cool air blowing in from the coastline. It was a lovely day, especially for a walk. Pipkin flitted off to satisfy her curiosity every so often, but she found her way back to Hallvar’s shoulder with ease.

The elf obtained her paperwork while Hallvar bought a few health potions with their fast-dwindling coins. They had learned from the tarrusmaw that having healing potions on hand for every the most minor task could mean life or death.

A system pop-up answered a half-thought question: beast companions could be healed by beastmaster-made potions, the ingredients of which were specific to the individual beastmaster. Further prodding resulted in an ability must be unlocked message. Well then…

The sightseeing was calm and fun, something Hallvar desperately needed in their life. Due to the foot traffic everywhere, the pair couldn’t talk about their current predicaments; all their verbiage had to be sorted through a quick mental filter to see if it would draw attention.

Yet, Hallvar learned a lot about Stella – where she was from, what her childhood was like, her family and siblings, the kinds of produce and products her family’s farm made.

In turn, Hallvar provided a brief overview of their prior life, carefully picking words.

At “home,” Hallvar left an elder brother who worked for “money changers” in a very large city and an older sister picked up a husband while “becoming a scholar.” That last part translated poorly for Stella, so Hallvar had to reinterpret it as “taking on an apprenticeship” or something similar.

She still didn’t understand the details, so Hallvar ended up explaining that in their culture, “becoming a scholar” was considered somewhat normal. Still desired, but not completely inaccessible. Therefore, a lot of parents saved money for their children even before they were born in order to send them to an “academy.”

Stella was thrilled to learn that Hallvar was able to access an “academy,” not once but multiple times. Master’s degree apparently meant something here, but a doctorate was a confusing term.

Not that Hallvar—Abby – had a doctorate. They were applying to programs before it happened.

After learning that beyond a master’s lay study in law or medicine, Hallvar was able to contextualize the doctorate for Stella a bit more. It was a study beyond a master’s that focused on the natural world, like a physician for the land.

Stella understood immediately. She was careful not to use the words, but she picked up from the vast array of context clues that a system did not exist in Hallvar’s world. Therefore, to be a landwise or a beastmaster, people had to learn about it in an academy.

She seemed so happy to understand more about Hallvar, why they acted the way they did. Their choice of beastmaster was not only logical but preferrable with their history as a scholar of nature, her funny way of saying ecologist.

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The pair walked by the riverside, keeping Saltkrow Castle at a distance as much as they were able. The structure was unavoidable, as the capital grew up around it, but Stella could direct Hallvar along the expanses of jutting rock and high walls, instead of passing directly by any gates.

The sun dipped low in the sky by the time they reached the ocean, nearing evening hours. The city was vast on foot, made manageable by carriage or horse. It would take an hour or more to return home as the guild was on the exact opposite end of the capital.

The docks were occupied by ships and sailors alike, with a few small vendors dotting the retaining wall. They had interesting trinkets but largely catered to the seafarers and travelers from other nations.

The pair wandered to the end of the docks, where only small fishing vessels were tethered. The landscape shifted to a rocky intertidal area, or a rocky tidepool, which Hallvar knew of intimately from harvesting invasive urchins on work trips. This shoreline seemed thankfully free of those spiky menaces, so Hallvar picked out a nice flat rock as a seat.

Stella didn’t have to be invited. The hero got an easy answer to their earlier question – did Stella guide everyone around by the hand? – as the woman sat in front of them, leaning back against their chest.

Ah, right. The flirting that Hallvar kept somehow missing. It was funny because they knew to look for it, but still missed the signs.

They propped their feet up on the rock for support, pulling Stella back against them and wrapping their arms around her waist and shoulders.

Pipkin wasn’t third wheeling now. The tidepools were full of tiny minnows which she dove to catch, splashing and shrieking in her hunting fervor.

“See?” Stella began softly, her tone teasing. “Errands and a date worked out, didn’t it?”

Hallvar laughed. “I never doubted you. Though it gave me a chance to fill out my capital map.”

They leaned their face against her head, content with the closeness above everything else. She smelled nice. Of course, she did. Was it pheromones? That was the word. Did human and elf pheromones match up enough for this to work out?

Fates, they were fucking stupid sometimes. They didn’t need to hash out the specifics of human-elf attraction right now.

“So, what now?” they murmured.

Stella shifted against them, enjoying the hero’s warmth compared to the chill ocean air. “What do you mean?”

Hallvar blanked, restarting their thoughts with a stutter. “I- I honestly didn’t mean to say that aloud.”

With an amused sound, she asked a different question. “What are you thinking, then?”

That was a hard question. The impulse of what now came after the day’s events, a culmination of wonderful and stressful knowledge.

“I’m happy to be here. I want it to stay like this. But I know it won’t, and I’m wondering how that affects… us.”

“Hmm,” Stella answered sagely. “Your thoughts first.”

Hallvar nipped at her ear as a faux punishment. “Chicken.”

She giggled and leaned away. So, her ears were sensitive? Good to know.

The hero thought for a few serene moments, considering the book’s worth of new information they were given today.

“It’s a lot of concerns together. Your safety in this conflict. I have some immunity; you don’t.”

“I do,” Stella interrupted. “I may lose my freedom temporarily, but the King-Consort won’t harm me.”

She practically heard the gears turning in Hallvar’s head, so she offered an explanation. “Most people are reluctant to damage an elf.”

Hallvar didn’t entirely understand but they accepted it as fact. “There’s still the adventurer thing. If we date, I will travel frequently, and my safety isn’t guaranteed.”

“Mm-hmm. Did the guildmaster fail to tell you that I am to be his successor?”

The hero paused, letting out a drawn out, “… nooo?”

Stella continued, bemused but patient. “Did you know that I was an adventurer for a long time?”

They huffed and buried their face in the woman’s hair. “What’s your point?” Hallvar mumbled.

“Such drama,” she teased. “My point is that I know exactly what it takes to be an adventurer – and although I won’t understand heroes entirely, I’m able to empathize.”

“That solves most of the problems,” Hallvar admitted, now looking out over the ocean.

It was late afternoon with some wind but not such a strong rush that it was uncomfortable. There were sailing ships out at sea, passing by at a great distance. Something tall loomed in the skyline, visible only as a jagged haze against the blue-white horizon.

They glanced behind at Pipkin, who was chomping away on a silvery minnow. It was strange; Hallvar innately knew where the beast was, like an additional sense. When facing the ocean, their mind said rear-left on the ground.

“So, now what?” Stella asked, in a mirror of Hallvar’s earlier remark.

“Enjoy cuddling, go back home – to your house, I mean. Make Pipkin a hole. A roost. Kestrels sleep in holes; Pipkin might too.”

The hero continued a train of thought, adding a couple more to-do list items. “I spent half of my coins today, so find another quest or two. Don’t get caught by the royals. Simple things, really.”

“Decide if you’re sleeping in my bed.”

“Sure, I’ll add— what?”

Stella pushed one of their legs down and turned so she was seated in the hero’s lap, more or less. “Hallvar, we need to fix your charisma.”

The hero flushed with a mix of shame and embarrassment. “I know. It’s like I don’t know what’s happening until you point it out, but I should know! I used to, before! I wasn’t great at flirting, but I could tell when it was happening.”

She waved her hand in a Jedi-way, staring intently at Hallvar again. “Still a 6, but you’re close to increasing it. I think you’ll earn 1 point from our interactions, which puts you at a 7.”

“That’s still low,” the hero complained, adjusting their arms to loop around Stella’s waist. “Or I think it’s low.”

“My charisma is a 19, in comparison, but I suspect I receive an unmarked bonus for being an elf. As a hero, you should aim for a bare minimum of 15.”

Hallvar squinted at the easy math. “That’s more than double.”

The woman planted a kiss on their cheek. “It’s easier than you would expect.”

She eyed them, contemplating more kissing, but elected to be helpful before the kissing took over.

“Reaching 10 requires any effort, but effort must be made. For charisma, that’s extended conversations with strangers; it only works once for partners and loved ones, then never again. Most people earn those initial numbers in childhood.”

“So, I need to go talk to people?”

“Yes, strangers.”

Hallvar grumbled again.

“For consideration: raising your charisma will make social situations more agreeable and fun for you.”

“But how? Unless I hire people to talk with me, I wouldn’t know where to start. I don’t have much going on for me. Except Pipkin, guys with dogs always get attention.”

Stella stared at the hero with a bemused expression. “Hallvar, when do you think I started liking you?”

Hallvar looked at the woman and her lovely green gaze as she surely thought about how stupid they were. They mentally shoved aside the imposter syndrome and kissed her on the nose. “This is a trick question. I’m not falling for that.”

She laughed.

attribute increased: charisma +1

“Wait, that worked?”

“The kiss on the nose? I thought it was sweet and charming.”

“No. Yes, but no,” Hallvar corrected. “Do your hand wavey thing.”

Stella made a pleased sound when she saw the updated stat. “See? Any amount of effort will take you to 10. You just need to try.”

“Do you think I’ll catch onto flirting now?”

“Why don’t you kiss me and find out?”

They passed the time together until their lips were tired and sore, like two teenagers left alone for the first time. It was high tide that finally chased them away and back to the docks, threatening to soak their clothing.

Pipkin was stuffed, successful in her hunting. She flitted to Hallvar’s shoulder when called, fluffing up and settling down like a contented hen.

As their clasped hands swung between the pair, Stella brought back the earlier conversation. “The answer was that I always liked you. The first meeting when you were frantic, I helped out of kindness then obligation, but you were also kind and considerate. People notice that, Hallvar, and they usually like it.”

Hallvar took some time to absorb the compliment, trying not to protest. “Is there a way to find a group of strangers that will absolutely listen to me? I can’t sing much or perform, so I’m all out of options for increasing charisma quickly.”

“Why quickly?” she questioned lightly.

“It’s— I know charisma here isn’t exactly approval, but it affects respect or attention, right? I’d like to have at least charisma 10 before I accidentally run into the King-Consort.”

That was not only a valid argument, but it was also vital and an immediate need. She considered their options, drawing on her abilities as system mage to see if any vague pushes could be interpreted to help. She felt luck was important and storytelling, for some reason.

“Do you know a lot of stories?” She asked, trying to pull on threads.

“Uh, maybe? Would you consider movies stories?”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Oh, uh, then yes, I know a lot of stories, or I could remember some.”

Their walk back home passed by the Seawind District. A magically lit building sat in the near distance, the evening darkness trying and failing to subsume its sparkly, expensive glass greenhouses.

Stella stopped cold, alarming Hallvar.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you remember gambling with the guildmaster?”

“With irritation, yes.”

“Did you know the Solarium is also a brothel?”

“I assumed so.”

“Do you have at least one head? 50 targets, or 1500 loafs?”

“Oh, coins. I think so?” Hallvar opened their coin purse, sure they didn’t have 1500 tiny copper coins, as that would be very heavy. “Yes, I have a silver head.”

Stella turned to face Hallvar with hope and a wild idea guiding her along. “You’re not going to like this, I don’t think, but—”

She explained her idea; Hallvar’s expression turned begrudging.

“Do you think it’ll work?”

“If you’re successful, yes.”

“And you’re fine with it?”

Stella blinked at the hero, raising an eyebrow. “We aren’t married, you know.”

With an embarrassed grumble, Hallvar said their goodbyes to Stella, who caught a carriage down the road from the Solarium.

They turned to the expensive building, eyeing the ladies along the rails on the upper floor.

Success was guaranteed, but it would require a bit of Hallvar’s signature luck to achieve.