After an afternoon of crafting offensive potions, Orion was exhausted as he walked back to the house the party had rented. After the day just gone, all he wanted to do was see his friends, have one of Shadow’s lovely dinners, and go to sleep. There was one important task left for the day, however, and Orion knew it couldn’t wait.

The sooner we get this out of the way, the better—for them, and us.

Orion stepped into the party’s dwelling to find only Arika there.

“Would you come with me, Arika?”

“… where?”

“If I told you, you might not want to go.”

“You know, Orion, you’re really not selling this very well.”

Orion laughed. “I know. Would you trust me, though? I promise you, you’ll feel better afterwards.”

She watched him for a few moments, weighing what he’d said before she made a decision.

“Alright,” she conceded. “I trust you. Can we get food first, though? I am starved, and our personal chef is nowhere to be seen.”

“Of course, my lady! There is food at our destination, but as a gentleman, I would be happy to buy a bite to eat on the way.” Orion held his arm out for her to take.

Arika slapped it playfully, but didn’t put her arm in his.

Orion led them out of the house and down the street.

***

Shadow was having quite a pleasant night, really. It had taken most of the day to set up his cooking station and organize the other cooks. Jeremy, the senior chef in the city—who’s usual place of employment was an overpriced restaurant that only the town’s wealthy frequented—was a bit of a prick in the beginning.

His tune had changed pretty quickly after Shadow started sharing his buffing recipes with the other chefs, however, and Jeremy had dropped the high-and-mighty attitude pretty quickly when he realized Shadow would have to share the recipe with him voluntarily.

Shadow looked over his list of known recipes, smiling to himself as his eyes roamed over the recipes he’d managed to squeeze out of the uppity bastard in exchange for his own.

Through his own work, and the shared experience from other people crafting a recipe he created, Shadow had advanced his Cooking to Journeyman 3.

I wonder just how far I can advance before the attack comes?

***

Gizmo was having an exhilarating night. The day started with learning Engineering, and he had been building ever since. Then there had been the wheels. To grant a contraption—sentient or not—the gift of rolling… oh, what a joyous experience. He had thought getting hurt was the point of life, but no more. Sure, pain was still pretty nice… but creating? Building and improving with his own two clamps? What a rewarding endeavor.

I wonder if this is how Daddy feels when he creates potions? It is no wonder he feels so happy when crafting.

“How many more Dave-apults can we create with the materials we have left?” Dave asked.

“According to the ledger you showed me…” Gizmo paused for a second as he ran the calculation one-hundred more times to ensure he was, in-fact, correct. “We have approximately six-point-two-five Dave-apults worth of materials on hand.”

“Is that including the materials for their wheels?”

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“Yes.”

“Hmmm, so six, huh?” Dave rubbed his chin. “What would you suggest we build with the remaining point-two-five worth of materials, then?”

“That is obvious, Master. We should build a blunt-force weapon with which to deliver death upon our enemies.”

Dave smiled a wicked smile.

“I like the cut of your jib, boy. Keep up the good work.”

“Thank you, Master. Shall I finish the Dave-apults?”

“Just so, lad. I need to check up on the system I built for condensing that Alchemy bullshit.”

Dave walked out of the warehouse, leaving Gizmo humming to himself happily as he resumed creating.

***

Honeypot was having a fantastic night. It was not often that he was able to act out his priestly endeavors, thereby gaining experience, and explore the dank sewers of a medieval city at the same time. A smile crossed his face as a small draft of wind blew up his skirt.

Now this is freedom.

What made the experience even better was that he had gained a follower. Another peon for the head priest of chaos, ergo, another minion that was beneath him and had to do his bidding. Now he had his entire party and Treyu to do his grunt work. Okay, maybe not the entire party… or any of it, for that matter.

Do any of those godless fools listen to me? Gizmo would… right? He’s got his head screwed on properly.

While he was out and about that morning, looking for mischief and havoc to sew, Honeypot had come across Treyu experimenting with a deliciously evil ingredient. He’d raised an eyebrow when he inspected him, noting that he was no longer a member of Hand of God. He had dropped Stealth and approached Felsteg’s former subordinate, and after a little back-and-forth chatter, was willing to take a chance on the seed of chaos he saw within the man.

“I don’t like it down here, boss,” Treyu whined.

Honeypot wondered—not for the first time—if Treyu was sent by Felsteg to whine incessantly, thereby ruining his morale and bringing down his party from the inside. Like a loud, vaguely helpful Trojan horse.

“Quiet, my foolish yet lovable subordinate. We are on important business in the name of chaos.”

“What important business? You keep saying that, but that doesn’t really tell me what we’re doing…”

“Ahh, you are but a lowly acolyte, dear Treyu. You cannot hope to comprehend the grand plans of our betters. Well, your betters, I suppose. Here, throw this sausage in that water over there.” Honeypot handed Treyu a sausage and watched as he threw it into the indicated pool of waste. “Very good, lovely throwing arm. We’ll make an obedient servant out of you yet.”

“… servant?” Treyu asked.

“Oh, uhhh, yeah… in our clergy, servant is another word for… Priest. Yeah, that’s it. We’ll make a Priest out of you.”

They continued on their path, getting further and further into the sewer system, periodically throwing sausages into pools of waste.

“What would this damn city do without us, Treyu? We are the backbones of this defense, I tell you. They couldn’t stand upright without us.”

“If you say so, boss.”

Honeypot held out another sausage. “That pool over there, if you please.”

***

Orion fought to push down the building anxiety as he and Arika approached their destination. They had stopped for vegetable skewers as a snack that were reportedly quite nice—not that Orion had stopped to taste it, distracted as he was.

They had spoken on small things during their journey towards the east gate, Arika complaining that the only enchanters she had worked with were crotchety old townsfolk. Evidently, everyone else had ignored the profession, or had better things to do than enchant gear for everyone.

Orion thought back to their dynamic in the past, and how it had changed so drastically when everyone’s memories were returned. Before, she had touched him easily. Nothing overtly sexual, just small gestures. Such small things, but they had filled him with such joy. He felt the empty feeling that her physical distance brought now as she seemed to subconsciously distance herself from him. Her demeanor reminded him of a small bird, ready to fly away at the first sign of danger.

“You know…” he tried.

“… yes?” Arika said.

“About your… about your memories returning…”

A look of irritation crossed Arika’s face as she turned on him.

“I’m not asking!” Orion said in a rush. “I’m trying to say I don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me. You can take your time. Just know that I-no, we are here for you.”

“You’ve already said that.” Arika visibly relaxed, but there was a stiffness to her shoulders that hadn’t been there before.

Orion mentally kicked himself.

You just had to say something. You couldn’t keep your mouth shut…

They continued walking, Arika remaining quiet and Orion feeling like an idiot. Orion quickly sent a message, letting them know they were almost there.

“Is it much further?” Arika asked. “I’m getting pretty tired.”

“Just one more block and we’ll be there.”

They rounded a corner and saw a bar with a hanging sign that was unreadable. Arika raised her eyebrow at the dodgy establishment, but said nothing. Orion walked up to the door and opened it for her.

He led her down a hallway into a back-room that was filled with empty tables, all-the-while his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. Only one of the long tables had customers. Orion approached it.

“Arika, these are some people that wanted to meet you.” Orion turned and watched Arika, gaging her reaction closely.

As Arika saw the faces before her, a look of shock followed by horror crossed her face. There were seven people in total; Tash, five adventurers that looked fairly well-geared, and an older lady that looked like either a townsperson, or an adventurer that never left the city. Arika took a step back, and without thinking, Orion grabbed her arm to stop her.

“Wait. I’ve expla—”

“Don’t TOUCH me!” she yelled, giving Orion such a look of disgust that it felt like a physical blow.

Arika turned and stormed from the room.