Naomi Davis Continued

When morning came, Naomi stirred, her body heavy with the kind of sleep that only comes after complete exhaustion. The soft glow of daylight seeped through the cracks in the wooden shutters, gently rousing her from her slumber. For a moment, as her eyes fluttered open, she thought it might all have been a dream—that she’d wake up in her own bed, with the familiar sounds of her house around her.

But as she sat up and looked around the room, her heart sank. The polished wooden walls, the sturdy wardrobe, the thick quilt she’d pulled over herself—all of it was still here. She was still in this strange, unfamiliar world.

Her chest tightened as the reality of her situation crashed down on her again. She was alone, far from home, with no idea how she’d gotten here—or how to get back. Her mind drifted to her mom and dad. She pictured her mom pacing the living room, her hands wringing together as she fought back tears, and her dad sitting silently at the kitchen table, his face lined with worry.

“They must be freaking out,” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling.

Her throat tightened, and tears welled in her eyes as she imagined what they must be thinking. Her mom calling her phone over and over, leaving frantic voicemails. Her dad driving around the neighborhood, checking every park, every street, every corner, hoping to find her. She could see the helplessness in their eyes, the fear, the pain.

Naomi pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she let out a shaky breath. “What do I do?” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

The thought of them not knowing where she was or if she was even alive made her stomach churn. For a brief moment, she wished she could reach out to them, tell them she was okay—well, alive, at least—but that seemed impossible.

The weight of it all threatened to crush her, but she forced herself to take a deep breath. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and looked toward the door. This wasn’t home, but for now, it was safe. She had to keep moving, to figure something out. Maybe Bjorn and Shmee could help her make sense of things.

With that thought, Naomi pushed herself off the bed, the cool wooden floor grounding her as she steadied herself. She didn’t know what the day ahead would bring, but she knew one thing for sure: she couldn’t give up. Not yet. Not while there was still a chance to find her way back.

As Naomi opened her door, a wave of sound hit her, making her pause for a moment. The quiet stillness of the night before was replaced by a lively hum of activity. Voices echoed up the stairs—talking, laughing, and the occasional burst of hearty laughter. The clinking of dishes and the faint thud of boots against the floor mixed with the warm, inviting aroma of food drifting through the air.

Her stomach growled as she stepped into the hallway, following the enticing smells to the staircase. When she reached the top of the stairs, she froze, her eyes widening at the scene below.

The inn was bustling with life. People filled the tables, their voices overlapping in a symphony of conversation. Some wore plain, everyday clothes, while others were decked out in armor, their weapons either leaning against the wall or strapped securely to their sides. Naomi’s gaze darted across the crowd, taking in the diversity of faces—and not just human ones.

At a table near the hearth, what she guessed were dwarves sat together, their stout frames and thick beards unmistakable. Their deep, rumbling voices carried over the noise as they gestured animatedly with their mugs of ale. Nearby, she spotted a group of what she assumed were elves, their pointed ears and graceful movements setting them apart. A part of her marveled at their ethereal beauty.

And then her eyes landed on a pair of figures at a corner table—two minotaurs. Her breath caught as she stared at their massive, bovine forms. One was sipping from a mug far too small for its large hands, while the other leaned back, its horns almost brushing the wall behind it. They talked in deep, rumbling voices, their presence impossible to ignore.

The inn was alive with energy, a mix of people from all walks of life, and for a moment, Naomi felt completely out of place. She clutched the railing, her heart pounding as she tried to take it all in.

Then she spotted Bjorn. The giant of a man passed the base of the stairs, carrying a tray stacked with plates of steaming food. He caught sight of her and paused, a grin breaking through his usual gruff demeanor.

“Come down, lass!” he called up to her, his deep voice booming over the noise. “I’ve got a seat at the bar for ya!”

Naomi hesitated for a moment before nodding, her legs trembling slightly as she began descending the stairs. The smells of food and the warmth of the inn pulled her forward, and as intimidating as the scene was, Bjorn’s presence gave her a small anchor in this overwhelming new place.

Naomi slowly made her way down the stairs, her hand gripping the railing as she tried to absorb everything around her. The lively hum of the inn was overwhelming yet fascinating. She couldn’t take her eyes off the mix of people—humans, dwarves, elves, and those two towering minotaurs still sitting in the corner. The clinking of plates and mugs blended with bursts of laughter and the faint crackle of the hearthfire, creating an almost comforting atmosphere.

When she reached the bottom of the steps, Shmee came darting out from the crowd, his claws skittering against the polished wooden floor. He slid to a stop in front of her, his golden eyes wide with excitement.

“This ways, lassis!” he chirped, waving one of his little arms to beckon her.

Naomi raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “My name’s Naomi, Shmee,” she corrected him with a faint smirk.

Shmee tilted his head, his ears twitching as he scratched his snout in concentration. “Nao… namomish… nomi? Nomis! This ways, Nomis!”

Naomi blinked, then let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. She couldn’t help but grin at the kobold’s boundless energy and his absolute refusal to get her name right. “It’s Naomi,” she repeated, but her tone lacked any real annoyance.

Shmee didn’t seem to hear her—or didn’t care. He spun around, tail flicking, and started weaving his way through the crowd, looking back over his shoulder to make sure she was following. “Hurries, Nomis! Shmee finds you the bests seat!”

Naomi sighed but couldn’t wipe the grin from her face as she followed him. “You’re impossible, Shmee,” she muttered under her breath, though she found herself oddly glad to have him around.

Shmee led Naomi to a seat at the end of the bar, the stool slightly higher than she would’ve liked, but she managed to climb onto it without making a scene. Shmee stood proudly for a moment, gesturing grandly as if to say, behold, the finest seat in the house, before he scurried off behind the counter, his small form disappearing from sight.

Naomi barely had a chance to take in her surroundings when a man emerged from behind the bar, his broad shoulders and rugged appearance almost as imposing as Bjorn’s, though he was a bit shorter and leaner. His dark hair was slightly unkempt, and a scraggly beard framed his face, but his sharp eyes gave the impression of someone who missed nothing.

“What’ll you have, lass?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly but not unkind. “Coffee? Beer? Whiskey? We’ve got the best you’ll find anywhere, I promise you that.”

Naomi blinked, taken aback. “I… I’m just a kid,” she said, her voice laced with confusion.

Garrick raised an eyebrow, leaning one elbow on the bar as he stared at her, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That ain’t ever stopped no kid I ever seen before,” he said dryly, his tone carrying a hint of humor.

Before Naomi could respond, a deep voice boomed from across the room. “Garrick! Leave the lass alone!”

Bjorn emerged from the kitchen, balancing a large plate in one hand and a tall glass in the other. His apron was dusted with flour, and a smudge of what looked like grease streaked one cheek. He approached with a grin, giving Garrick a light swat on the shoulder as he passed.

“Off with ya. Go find someone else to pester,” Bjorn said, his tone gruff but teasing.

Garrick rolled his eyes but chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. You’ve got this one, big guy.” He wandered off, mumbling something about soft spots for strays.

Bjorn set the plate and glass in front of Naomi with a flourish. “Here you are, lass. Good, hearty breakfast to start your day.”

Naomi’s eyes widened as she looked at the food. The plate was piled high with fluffy scrambled eggs, a generous helping of some kind of crispy, golden meat that smelled absolutely divine, and a slice of thick, buttered bread on the side. The tall glass of yellow-green juice from the night before completed the meal.

“Eat up,” Bjorn said, stepping back and crossing his arms, his blue eyes gleaming with approval. “You’ll need your strength for whatever the day brings.”

Naomi couldn’t help but smile, her stomach growling audibly at the sight and smell of the food. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice carrying genuine gratitude as she picked up the fork and took her first bite.

The food was wonderful. Every bite seemed to melt in her mouth, the flavors rich and perfectly balanced. The eggs were light and fluffy, the bread warm and buttery, and the meat—she didn’t even know what kind it was—was crispy on the outside, tender on the inside, and bursting with flavor. It was easily the best meal she had ever had.

Feeling generous, Naomi tore off a piece of the meat and offered it to Shmee, who had been watching her with wide, eager eyes from the floor. The kobold’s ears perked up, and he let out a delighted yip as he snatched the morsel from her hand, scarfing it down with enthusiasm.

“Yous good sharer, Nomis!” Shmee chirped, licking his claws. “Tastes even better when yous share!”

Naomi chuckled softly, shaking her head. She finished the last bite of her meal and leaned back in her chair, her stomach full and her body feeling more at ease than it had in days. She glanced around the bar, taking in the lively crowd once more.

As she was lost in thought, Garrick appeared, his rough hands deftly picking up her empty plate and glass from the bar. He gave her a faint smirk, his scruffy beard twitching slightly as he tilted his head.

“Not bad, huh?” he said, his gravelly voice laced with a hint of pride.

Naomi nodded, smiling faintly. “Not bad at all. That was amazing.”

Garrick gave a satisfied grunt. “Bjorn’s cooking always is. Don’t tell him I said that, though—he’ll never let me hear the end of it.” He paused, looking her over with a raised brow. “You’ve got the look of someone with a lot on their mind, though. You alright, kid?”

Naomi hesitated, glancing down at the bar and fidgeting slightly with her hands. “Yeah,” she said softly, though her tone wasn’t convincing. “Just… trying to figure out what to do next.”

Garrick nodded slowly, his expression softening. “Well, you’re safe here. Take a breath, let the world slow down for a minute. No sense rushing off without a plan.”

The food was wonderful. Every bite seemed to melt in her mouth, the flavors rich and perfectly balanced. The eggs were light and fluffy, the bread warm and buttery, and the meat—she didn’t even know what kind it was—was crispy on the outside, tender on the inside, and bursting with flavor. It was easily the best meal she had ever had.

Feeling generous, Naomi tore off a piece of the meat and offered it to Shmee, who had been watching her with wide, eager eyes from the floor. The kobold’s ears perked up, and he let out a delighted yip as he snatched the morsel from her hand, scarfing it down with enthusiasm.

“Yous good sharer, Nomis!” Shmee chirped, licking his claws. “Tastes even better when yous share!”

Naomi chuckled softly, shaking her head. She finished the last bite of her meal and leaned back in her chair, her stomach full and her body feeling more at ease than it had in days. She glanced around the bar, taking in the lively crowd once more.

As she was lost in thought, Garrick appeared, his rough hands deftly picking up her empty plate and glass from the bar. He gave her a faint smirk, his scruffy beard twitching slightly as he tilted his head.

“Not bad, huh?” he said, his gravelly voice laced with a hint of pride.

Naomi nodded, smiling faintly. “Not bad at all. That was amazing.”

Garrick gave a satisfied grunt. “Bjorn’s cooking always is. Don’t tell him I said that, though—he’ll never let me hear the end of it.” He paused, looking her over with a raised brow. “You’ve got the look of someone with a lot on their mind, though. You alright, kid?”

Naomi hesitated, glancing down at the bar and fidgeting slightly with her hands. “Yeah,” she said softly, though her tone wasn’t convincing. “Just… trying to figure out what to do next.”

Garrick nodded slowly, his expression softening. “Well, you’re safe here. Take a breath, let the world slow down for a minute. No sense rushing off without a plan.”

He gave her a small, reassuring nod before turning to take the plate and glass back behind the bar.

“Wait!” Naomi called out, her voice stopping him mid-step.

Garrick turned back to her, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, lass?”

“It’s Nomi!” Shmee quipped from under the bar, his head popping up with a wide grin.

“Nomi, huh?” Garrick said, glancing down at the kobold before looking back at Naomi with a raised brow.

“Naomi,” she corrected, then hesitated, her fingers fidgeting nervously. “But Garrick, wasn’t it? My parents taught me to pull my own weight… Bjorn fed me last night too. That’s two meals I can’t pay for… or the room.” She looked up at him, her voice trembling slightly. “Can I help? In some way? Dishes? Refilling cups or… something?”

Garrick’s rough features softened just slightly, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He muttered under his breath, “That damn giant was right.”

Naomi tilted her head, confused. “What?”

Garrick laughed, shaking his head. “Bjorn. He said you’d say something like that.” He let out a hearty chuckle, his hand resting on his hip. “Alright, lass. Head on back and talk to the big man about your terms of employment.” He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder, pointing toward the kitchen.

Before she could respond, Garrick set the plate and glass back on the counter in front of her. “Start with takin’ this back,” he said with a grin.

Naomi blinked, then smiled faintly, feeling a bit of the tension ease from her chest. She grabbed the plate and glass, balancing them carefully in her hands as she stepped off the barstool.

“Don’t drop it!” Shmee called after her with a yip.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she muttered, giving him a mock glare before heading toward the door Garrick had gestured toward.

Naomi pushed through the back door, the plate and glass balanced carefully in her hands. The warm smells of roasting meats and fresh bread enveloped her as she stepped into the kitchen. Directly behind her, Shmee followed, his claws clacking noisily against the floor.

Bjorn, who was standing at a large wooden table slicing a loaf of bread with a knife that looked more like a small sword, glanced over his shoulder at the sound of the door.

“Ah, lass!” he boomed, his deep voice rumbling through the room like distant thunder.

“It’s Nomi!” Shmee piped up immediately, darting around Naomi’s legs to plant himself firmly in the middle of the room. His golden eyes gleamed with pride as if he’d made some grand proclamation.

Bjorn turned fully toward them, the loaf of bread still in his massive hand, and grinned. “Yes, Naomi,” he said, carefully sounding out each word in a tone dripping with mockery. “And your new shadow, I see.” His gaze shifted pointedly to Shmee, who wagged his tail in response.

Naomi bit back a laugh, shaking her head. “Shmee’s just... being Shmee.”

Bjorn chuckled, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “What can I help you with, lass?” he asked, his voice settling back into its usual deep, steady tone.

Naomi shifted on her feet, setting the plate and glass down on the counter nearby. “I, um… I wanted to talk to you about helping out,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “You’ve fed me twice now and given me a place to sleep, and I don’t have any way to pay you back.” She took a deep breath, then squared her shoulders. “So… I want to work. Do something to earn my keep.”

Bjorn tilted his head, setting the loaf of bread down as he crossed his massive arms over his chest. “Work, eh?” he said, studying her thoughtfully.

“She said it!” Shmee interjected, bouncing on his toes. “Nomis wants to work!”

“Quiet, you,” Bjorn rumbled, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward. He looked back at Naomi, his gaze steady but not unkind. “And what exactly do you think you can do, lass? You’ve just barely stepped foot in this world, haven’t you?”

Naomi swallowed hard, meeting his eyes. “I can try,” she said firmly. “I can clean, do dishes, refill drinks. Whatever you need me to do.”

Bjorn was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face. “Aye,” he said, his voice softer now. “Garrick said you’d offer. He called it right.”

Naomi blinked in surprise. “He did?”

Bjorn nodded. “Aye. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, lass. Hard work’ll do you good. Fine—let’s see how you handle it.” He gestured toward the sink, filled with a stack of pots and pans. “Start with that, and we’ll see how long you last.”

Naomi couldn’t help but smile, a small spark of pride warming her chest. “Thank you,” she said, stepping toward the sink.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Bjorn said with a smirk. “Those pans’ll be your worst enemy by the end of the day.”

Shmee darted after Naomi, his claws clacking on the floor as he stopped in front of the sink. He craned his neck up to inspect the pile of dishes, his golden eyes wide with exaggerated curiosity. “Shmee helps! Shmee is best dish helper!” he declared proudly, puffing out his chest.

Bjorn let out a deep, rumbling chuckle, shaking his head as he returned to slicing the bread. “I’m only paying one of ye,” he said, casting a pointed glance at Shmee. “The other already gets enough of my coin for those mushrooms you bring.”

Shmee gasped dramatically, clutching at his chest as though wounded. “Shmee’s mushrooms very good! Best mushrooms! Worth all coins!”

Bjorn smirked, not looking up from his task. “Worth some coin, aye. But not so much that you get paid double for playin’ at dishwashing.”

Naomi stifled a laugh, glancing down at Shmee, who was now huffing indignantly. “I guess it’s up to me then,” she said, picking up a sponge and turning on the water.

“Yous’ll regret not lettin’ Shmee helps,” the kobold muttered under his breath, crossing his arms and glaring at the sink like it had personally offended him.

Bjorn snorted, wiping his hands on a towel before grabbing another loaf to slice. “Let her get her hands dirty, Shmee. Builds character. You could use some of that yourself.”

Naomi rolled her eyes but smiled as she started scrubbing the first pan. For all the gruffness, there was a warmth to Bjorn’s teasing.

As the day unfolded, Naomi found herself surprisingly busy. She scrubbed dishes, wiped down counters, and even ran plates of food out to the bustling bar and dining area. It was hard work, but she didn’t mind—there was something grounding about keeping her hands busy. Even Shmee proved to be an admirable helper, darting between her and the sink with surprising focus as he tackled the dishes. Despite his earlier dramatics, he took the task seriously, humming to himself as he scrubbed.

Around noon, the kitchen door swung open, and a human woman entered, wiping her hands on an apron already dusted with flour. She had a confident, easy air about her, with short-cropped auburn hair, a scattering of freckles across her nose, and kind brown eyes that lit up as she took in the scene.

“Well, well,” the woman said, stopping in the doorway with a grin. “Looks like Bjorn finally hired some extra help. Took you long enough, big guy.”

Bjorn glanced up from where he was slicing another loaf of bread, his broad shoulders shrugging. “Aye, about time, Maggie,” he rumbled, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “But don’t give me too much grief—she offered herself.”

The woman—Maggie, apparently—arched an eyebrow as she turned her gaze to Naomi. “Is that so?” she said, stepping further into the kitchen. “Well, welcome to the madness, lass. I’m Maggie. Been wrangling this lot for years.” She gestured vaguely toward Bjorn and, by extension, the entire inn.

Naomi straightened, a little surprised by Maggie’s warmth but grateful for it. “I’m Naomi,” she said with a small smile.

“Naomi, huh?” Maggie repeated, her grin widening. “Well, good to have you aboard. And don’t worry—Bjorn might look scary, but he’s a big softy once you get to know him.”

Bjorn snorted, slicing into another loaf with exaggerated force. “Careful, Maggie. You’ll ruin my reputation.”

“Your reputation can handle it,” Maggie shot back playfully. She winked at Naomi before grabbing an apron off a hook and tying it around her waist. “Alright, let’s get to it. Lunch rush’ll be starting soon, and this place doesn’t run itself.”

As the afternoon pressed on, Maggie proved to be a whirlwind of efficiency, helping to prepare plates, manage orders, and keep the kitchen running like a well-oiled machine. She joked often, her good humor infectious, and even Shmee seemed to enjoy her company, yipping happily whenever she praised his work.

Naomi found herself relaxing in the woman’s presence, the heaviness of her situation easing slightly as she settled into the rhythm of the day. For the first time in what felt like forever, she wasn’t just surviving—she was contributing, part of something larger than herself.

As the afternoon melted into evening, the bustling energy of the inn began to settle into a more relaxed hum. Bjorn, having finally stepped away from his station in the kitchen, now sat around a table with Naomi, Garrick, and Shmee. Garrick, as usual, was nursing a drink—or rather, several. His cheeks were flushed, and his laugh came easily, his jovial mood filling the space around them. Shmee, ever the curious one, was perched behind Naomi’s chair, occasionally peeking out to quip something sharp or funny into the conversation before retreating back to his self-appointed fortress.

Bjorn leaned back in his chair, his massive frame making the sturdy furniture creak slightly, and took a deep drink from his mug before setting it down with a satisfied thud. “Well, lass,” he began, his voice carrying that deep, rumbling warmth that Naomi had come to find oddly comforting. “You’ve done good work today. Surprised me, I’ll admit.”

Naomi blushed slightly but smiled. “Thanks,” she said. “It was… kind of nice to feel useful.”

Bjorn nodded, his icy blue eyes twinkling faintly in the lantern light. “Aye. And just so you know, we’ve got things set up here to make life easier. Don’t need to slave away all day every day.”

He gestured vaguely toward the kitchen. “You see, the kitchen’s got food preservation wards and enchanted cabinets. That’s why things run so smooth.”

“Preservation wards?” Naomi asked, tilting her head curiously.

Bjorn leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. “Aye. Keeps food as fresh as the moment it’s cooked. Means I can prep meals well in advance. Doesn’t matter if it’s hours or days later—someone grabs one of the plates from the cabinets, and it’s still hot and steaming as if I just made it.”

“That’s… incredible,” Naomi said, her eyes wide. “So, you don’t have to cook every single night?”

Bjorn chuckled, shaking his head. “No, lass. Once the afternoon passes, the other staff take over. I step back unless I need to prep more meals or deal with something special. Gives me time to breathe, enjoy a drink, and”—he shot Garrick a teasing look—“keep this one in line.”

Garrick barked out a laugh, raising his mug in mock salute. “Good luck with that, big guy,” he said, grinning. “No one’s keeping me in line tonight.”

“Shmee keeps Nomis in line,” the kobold quipped from behind her chair, his voice high-pitched but firm. “Big man needs to keep Garrick in line!”

Naomi stifled a laugh, glancing back at Shmee. “You’re the one who needs keeping in line.”

“Shmee is perfect!” he chirped, wagging his tail happily, earning a snort of laughter from Bjorn.

Bjorn’s expression shifted, his usual easy grin fading into something more serious as he leaned forward slightly. His piercing blue eyes met Naomi’s, and his voice softened.

“Look, lass,” he said gently, his tone steady but carrying a weight of sincerity. “I know you’ve no way home. And Garrick and I… we were adventurers before this. Good ones.” He gestured around the inn with a large hand, his gaze briefly sweeping over the sturdy walls and polished tables. “Hence this place—our retirement.”

He paused, his eyes returning to hers, his voice taking on a thoughtful edge. “But I ain’t never heard of no one from another world. And I don’t know how to get ye back home.”

Naomi felt her throat tighten, her fingers curling into her lap as she tried to keep her emotions in check.

Bjorn continued, his voice firm but kind. “The best I can offer you is a job and a place to stay. You’ve proved yourself today, lass. If you want to work, you’ll have coin in your pocket and a roof over your head.”

He glanced over her shoulder, his gaze landing on Shmee, who had popped his head out from behind her chair at the sound of his name. Bjorn’s lips twitched in a faint smirk. “And apparently a new shadow too.”

“Shmee is best helper!” the kobold declared proudly, puffing up his chest.

Bjorn chuckled, shaking his head. “Aye, but I still expect you to go get me mushrooms, Shmee. I’ll need ’em in a few days.”

Shmee nodded vigorously, his tail wagging. “Shmee always gets mushrooms! Best mushrooms for big man!”

Naomi couldn’t help but smile faintly, her chest tightening with a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. She glanced down at her hands, then back up at Bjorn.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly. “I… I don’t know what else to say.”

Bjorn waved her thanks off with a large hand. “No need for that, lass. Just do the work and we’ll get on fine.” He leaned back in his chair, his grin returning. “Now, finish your drink and get some rest. Tomorrow, you’ll be back at it, aye?”

Naomi nodded, her heart feeling a little lighter despite the lingering ache of homesickness. She wasn’t home, but at least she wasn’t alone. And for now, that was enough.

The next morning, Naomi woke earlier than she had expected. The soft light of dawn filtered through her window, and she stretched, shaking off the remnants of sleep. Pulling herself out of bed, she quietly opened her door—only to freeze as her eyes landed on a familiar figure curled up right in front of it.

Shmee lay there, his small form tucked tightly into a ball, his tail curled around him like a blanket. His little chest rose and fell with steady breaths, and his claws twitched occasionally as if chasing something in a dream.

Naomi paused, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She wasn’t entirely sure why he had decided to camp outside her door, but the sight was oddly endearing. Careful not to disturb him, she stepped over him as quietly as she could, gently closing the door behind her.

Making her way downstairs, she followed the warm smell of food and the faint clatter of kitchen tools. She found Bjorn already in the kitchen, a large mixing bowl in one hand as he stirred with a massive wooden spoon.

“Ah, morning, lass!” Bjorn’s deep voice boomed cheerfully as he spotted her. He set the bowl down on the counter and grinned at her. “Up early, I see! Good, good.”

Naomi rubbed her eyes, still waking up. “Morning,” she mumbled, offering him a faint smile.

Bjorn nodded, pleased. “All right, here’s what I need from you for now: sweep the front room. Shouldn’t take you long. Once you’re done with that, come back and see me.”

Naomi nodded, feeling the lingering haze of sleep start to lift. “Got it. I’ll get started right away.”

“Good lass,” Bjorn said, his grin widening. “There’s a broom by the door. Make sure you get all the corners—don’t let Shmee distract you too much when he wakes up.”

Naomi chuckled softly. “I’ll do my best.”

With that, she turned and headed toward the front room, ready to start her day.

As Naomi finished sweeping the main room, she propped the broom against the wall and stepped back to admire her work. The floor was spotless, the dust she’d chased from the corners now gone. The place looked refreshed, as if ready to welcome anyone who walked in.

Before she could take another step, a voice echoed in her mind, calm and matter-of-fact. It wasn’t loud or intrusive, but it was clear as day.

New Class Obtained: Class - Caretaker, Level 1

New Skill Obtained: Quick Cleanse

New Skill Obtained: Organized Mind

New Skill Obtained: Restore Order

Naomi froze, her heart skipping a beat. “What the hell was that?” she whispered, looking around as if expecting someone to jump out from the shadows. The room was empty, quiet except for the faint crackle of the hearth and the murmur of conversation in the distance.

She frowned, pressing her hand to her chest as if that would stop her racing heart. The voice had been so plain, so… normal, but it had come from nowhere. Her mind went over the words: Class? Skills? Level 1? It sounded like something out of a game, but this wasn’t a game. This was her life now.

Trying to steady her breathing, Naomi leaned against the broom. “A class?” she murmured, thinking it over. She hadn’t done anything extraordinary—just swept a floor—but the words in her head suggested otherwise. Caretaker. It didn’t sound flashy, but it felt… fitting. She’d been working hard to take care of the inn, after all.

“What does this mean?” she muttered, glancing toward the kitchen. Bjorn or Garrick might have answers, but the idea of bringing it up made her hesitate. The last thing she wanted was to sound ridiculous, like some kid inventing stories to get attention.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Instead, she straightened up, grabbing the broom. If this was how the world worked, maybe it wasn’t so strange after all. Maybe she’d figure it out in time. For now, she had a job to do, and that was enough.

With one last glance around the room, she headed back toward the kitchen

Bjorn glanced up as Naomi entered the kitchen, setting the broom aside. “Ah, finished already?” he rumbled, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. “Good. You’ve done well, lass.”

He reached into a pouch at his belt and pulled out a single gleaming gold coin, setting it down on the counter in front of her with a metallic clink. “Here’s your pay for the day,” he said, his voice light with approval. “And a bit of a donation from one of our regulars.”

Naomi glanced at the coin, blinking in surprise. “A donation?” she asked, tilting her head.

Bjorn winked, jerking his chin toward Garrick, who stood behind him pouring himself an early morning drink. Garrick didn’t even look up, but his ears turned faintly pink.

“That’s a gold,” Bjorn continued, leaning on the counter. “Now, I know you don’t know much about our world—or our money—but that little shadow of yours does.”

“Shmee?” Naomi asked, glancing back toward the door where the kobold was probably waiting.

Bjorn chuckled, his laughter deep and warm. “Aye. Trust me when I say he knows about coin.” He straightened, crossing his arms over his chest. “Tell him to take you into town. It’s not far, maybe a mile. You walk out the inn, climb that hill just past the road, and you’ll see it. Shmee’s an odd one, sure, but you can rely on him.”

Naomi hesitated, picking up the gold coin and turning it over in her fingers. It felt heavier than it looked, the intricate design on its surface catching the light. She glanced back up at Bjorn, her expression uncertain.

“Town?” she repeated.

“Aye,” Bjorn said with a nod. “It’ll do you good to see it—and maybe pick up some things you need.” His grin returned, mischievous and knowing. “And don’t let Shmee talk you into buying mushrooms.”

Naomi laughed softly despite herself, the weight of the coin in her hand feeling oddly reassuring. “Thanks,” she said, tucking it into her pocket.

Bjorn waved her off. “Go on, lass. The day’s yours now. And keep an eye on that kobold—he’s got a knack for trouble.”

Naomi nodded, stepping toward the door with a mix of curiosity and nervous excitement. “I’ll try,” she said, half-smiling as she pushed the door open, ready to go find Shmee.

The inn was starting to come alive with activity. Customers were coming in through the front door, their boots clunking on the polished wooden floor, while others wandered down from their rooms, yawning and stretching. Conversations blended together in a low hum, and the scent of fresh bread and roasted meat wafted through the air.

Naomi didn’t have to look far to find Shmee. The kobold came darting out from under a nearby table, running straight for her with a burst of energy. “Nomis!” he yipped, nearly knocking them both over as he skidded to a halt at her feet.

“Shmee!” Naomi laughed, steadying herself and stepping back. “You’ve got to slow down!”

“Shmee thought he lost Nomis!” the kobold declared dramatically, clutching his chest with both clawed hands. “Shmee never lose Nomis!”

Naomi chuckled, shaking her head at his antics. “I wasn’t lost, Shmee. I was just talking to Bjorn.”

Shmee’s ears perked up, and he tilted his head curiously. “Talking about what? Big man need more mushrooms?”

“No, not mushrooms this time,” Naomi said with a grin. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the gold coin, holding it up for him to see. “Bjorn said I should go into town to look around and probably get some new clothes… and whatever else I might need.”

Shmee’s golden eyes widened at the sight of the coin, and his tail wagged with excitement. “Nomis has coin!” he chirped. “Shmee knows town! Shmee shows Nomis! Best shops, best people, best mushrooms!”

Naomi laughed, pocketing the coin again. “I’ll take you up on the first two, but no mushrooms, Shmee.”

The kobold let out a small, dramatic sigh, his tail drooping for added effect, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he grabbed her hand with his small claws, tugging her eagerly toward the door. “This way! Shmee knows path! Quick path, no raccoons!”

He paused mid-step, his golden eyes narrowing as he glanced around the inn with exaggerated suspicion. “Tricksy raccoons…” he muttered darkly, glaring toward the corners of the room as though one might leap out at any moment.

Naomi couldn’t help but laugh, covering her mouth to stifle the sound. “Shmee, I don’t think raccoons are out to get you.”

Shmee spun around to face her, his ears twitching and his tail flicking sharply behind him. “Nomis doesn’t know! Raccoons very smart. They watch. They waits. They bites!” He huffed, crossing his arms with a pout before tugging her hand again. “Come! We go before raccoons finds us!”

Naomi shook her head, still chuckling, and allowed him to lead the way. “Alright, alright, no raccoons. Let’s go, Shmee.”

As they stepped out into the morning sunlight, she found herself smiling. Whatever Shmee’s quirks, the kobold’s enthusiasm was infectious, and she couldn’t help but feel a little lighter with him around.

Naomi followed Shmee along the dirt path, the kobold bounding ahead with his usual jittery energy. The morning air was crisp, the sun just beginning to climb higher in the sky. The path wound its way up a hill, and as they neared the top, Naomi caught her first glimpse of the town Bjorn had mentioned.

Stone walls rose ahead, their surface weathered but solid, standing tall against the landscape. The walls encircled the town, giving it an imposing yet welcoming presence. A large gate stood open at the base of the hill, with sturdy iron bars and reinforced wood visible even from a distance. Naomi could see the faint shapes of guards patrolling the top of the walls, their silhouettes moving steadily as they kept watch.

“Wow,” she murmured, pausing for a moment to take in the sight. The town looked lively even from here, with faint sounds of voices and the occasional clang of metal reaching her ears.

Shmee stopped a few steps ahead, his tail twitching as he glanced around nervously. His golden eyes darted to the treeline beside the path, then back to Naomi. “Raccoons…” he muttered under his breath, glaring at the bushes as if daring one to jump out.

Naomi couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Shmee, there aren’t any raccoons here.”

Shmee turned to her, his expression dead serious. “Nomis doesn’t know. Raccoons very sneaky.” He lowered his voice, leaning closer. “Sometimes… Shmee thinks they follow.”

“Follow?” Naomi repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yip! Follow!” Shmee hissed, casting another suspicious glance around. “Shmee no let them sneak up!”

Naomi bit her lip, trying not to laugh as she started walking again. “Well, I think we’re safe for now. Let’s just get to the gate, alright?”

Shmee nodded, his ears twitching as he resumed walking, though he kept glancing over his shoulder. Naomi shook her head in amusement, focusing her attention back on the town ahead. The closer they got, the more details she could make out—banners fluttering in the breeze, stone towers flanking the gate, and the glint of sunlight on armor as the guards moved along the wall.

As they neared the gate, Naomi felt a mixture of excitement and nervousness settle in her chest. This was her first real step into this strange world beyond the inn, and she had no idea what to expect. Shmee, muttering something about “crafty beasts,” seemed completely unfazed by the town’s looming presence, but Naomi couldn’t shake the feeling of excitement.

The gates stood wide open as Naomi and Shmee approached, their heavy iron frames towering above them. Naomi hesitated for a moment before stepping through, her eyes widening as she took in the bustling activity within the town.

Though smaller than she’d imagined, the town was alive with movement. People hurried to and fro, voices mixing in a constant hum of activity. Most of the townsfolk were human, dressed in simple, practical clothing, but her eyes were immediately drawn to the variety of others scattered among the crowd.

A pair of minotaurs strode purposefully down the cobbled street, their large, muscular frames towering over most of the humans. Their horns gleamed faintly in the sunlight, and their movements were surprisingly graceful for their size.

Nearby, a group of dwarves passed by, their stout forms bustling with energy. They carried bundles of goods—some with tools strapped to their belts and others with what looked like carefully crafted weapons. Naomi watched as they exchanged brief nods with a shopkeeper before disappearing down a side street.

But what truly caught her attention were the men in massive suits of armor. There were only three of them, but their presence was impossible to ignore. The armor was intricately designed, with gleaming pauldrons, helmets adorned with crests, and weapons slung across their backs or sheathed at their sides. They moved with a deliberate, steady pace, as if they were used to the weight of their gear. People gave them a wide berth, nodding respectfully as they passed.

“Nomis looks like fish out of water,” Shmee quipped, darting in front of her and waving a clawed hand to catch her attention. “Close mouth, Nomis. No drool in middle of street!”

Naomi snapped her mouth shut, realizing she’d been staring. “I’m not drooling,” she muttered, though her cheeks flushed slightly.

“Shmee sees all,” the kobold said, wagging a claw at her before spinning around. “Come! Many shops, many things to see! Shmee shows Nomis everything!”

Naomi shook her head, but a small smile tugged at her lips as she followed him. The sights, the sounds, the sheer energy of the town—it was overwhelming, but also exhilarating.

Naomi followed Shmee as he led her down what he enthusiastically called "Trade Street." The name was refreshingly simple, and as she looked around, it was clear why. Nearly every shop in town seemed to be packed along this street, their wooden signs swinging gently in the breeze, each advertising their goods or services in bold, straightforward lettering. Compared to the sprawling malls and complex city layouts of her home, this setup felt almost quaint—but in a good way.

Shmee scurried ahead, pointing at various shops with his small claws. “That one! Best breads!” he declared, gesturing toward a cozy bakery with a brick oven visible through the open window. “Shmee knows baker! Gives Shmee crumbs sometimes!”

Naomi smiled but kept quiet, her gaze flicking to the next building as Shmee continued.

“That place,” he said, nodding toward a smithy with plumes of smoke rising from its chimney, “best deals on tools. But not weapons. Weapons dull like Dullscale!” He let out a sharp laugh at his own joke.

“Dullscale?” Naomi asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes!” Shmee yipped, his tail flicking with delight. “Big, boring lizard runs it. No deals, no good. Only dull!”

Naomi bit her lip, trying not to laugh as he moved on, pointing at another shop. “This one, good deals. Best deals! But sometimes… tricky. Tunnel Stumbler runs it. Stone-for-brains dwarf. Always grumpy.”

“Tunnel Stumbler?” Naomi echoed, struggling to keep her composure.

“Yes, yes!” Shmee nodded vigorously. “Good deals, bad manners. Shmee likes deals, not dwarf!”

Naomi covered her mouth with her hand, a giggle slipping out despite her best efforts. Shmee turned to her with a proud grin, clearly pleased that she found his commentary entertaining.

“Shmee knows all shops,” he declared confidently, puffing out his chest. “Nomis stay close! No bad deals with Shmee!”

Naomi shook her head, smiling as she followed him down the bustling street. The simplicity of it all, from the shops to the way Shmee described the owners, was a refreshing contrast to the complexities of home. And as ridiculous as he was, Shmee’s enthusiasm was infectious.

“Alright, Shmee,” she said, her voice full of amusement. “Lead the way.”

And lead he did. Shmee darted ahead, weaving through the bustling crowd with ease, his tail flicking back and forth as he navigated the street. Naomi followed closely, trying not to lose him in the throng of people. Finally, he stopped in front of a quaint little shop tucked between two larger buildings.

The shop itself didn’t stand out much. Its wooden sign, worn but still legible, read simply: “The Trading Nook.” The door was slightly ajar, and faint hints of lavender and spices wafted out. It didn’t seem like the kind of place Naomi would naturally gravitate toward, but Shmee gestured to it with both hands as if unveiling a hidden treasure.

“Inside, smart lady,” he said, nodding toward the door. “She kind, but Shmee barters. She can be trickies, but good deals.” He tapped the side of his snout knowingly. “Knows what wes need.”

Naomi glanced at the shop, then back at Shmee. “Tricky how?”

Shmee leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Tricky like raccoons,” he whispered. “Smart eyes, always watching. But no bites—just words. Shmee good at bartering, no worries!”

Naomi chuckled despite herself. “Alright, Shmee. Lead the way.”

Shmee nodded proudly and pushed the door open, holding it for her with a dramatic flourish. “Nomis goes first. Shmee handles tricky lady!”

Naomi stepped inside, curious about what lay beyond the unassuming exterior. The shop’s interior was small but charming, shelves lined with an eclectic mix of items—clothing, small tools, jars of herbs, and trinkets she couldn’t even begin to identify. The air smelled faintly of dried flowers and something earthy, like cedar.

A woman stood behind the counter, her sharp eyes glinting as she glanced up from a ledger. She had a graceful, almost ageless quality about her, with neatly braided hair and a warm but slightly mischievous smile.

“Shmee,” she greeted, her tone playful as she set the ledger aside. “Back so soon? And with a new friend, I see.”

Shmee puffed out his chest, stepping forward. “Yes, yes! Shmee bring Nomis! Needs things. Shmee barters!”

The woman’s smile widened, and her eyes flicked to Naomi. “Well, welcome, Nomis,” she said smoothly. “Let’s see what you’re looking for today.”

Naomi nodded, already intrigued by the dynamic between Shmee and the shopkeeper.

The shopkeeper’s warm smile never wavered as she moved out from behind the counter, her movements smooth and deliberate, exuding a calm confidence. As she stepped into full view, Naomi got a better look at her.

Lavina’s age showed not in frailty but in wisdom. Her hair, streaked with silver, was neatly braided and pinned up in an elegant style that complemented her refined demeanor. She wore a long, dark tunic with intricate embroidery at the cuffs and hem, suggesting a keen eye for quality. Her posture was straight but relaxed, her presence commanding without being intimidating. A few delicate rings adorned her fingers, catching the faint light from a nearby lantern, and she carried the scent of lavender and sage.

Her hazel eyes, sharp and calculating, seemed to miss nothing as they swept over Naomi and Shmee. Naomi felt like Lavina could see straight through her, peeling back layers she didn’t even know she had.

“Welcome,” Lavina said finally, her voice carrying a pleasant lilt. It was warm yet shrewd, the tone of someone who knew the value of words. “I am Lavina, and this,” she gestured gracefully around the shop with one hand, “is The Veiled Exchange.”

The gesture matched the room’s atmosphere perfectly. Shelves lined with an eclectic mix of goods—clothing, small tools, jars of herbs, and gleaming trinkets—seemed to whisper promises of hidden stories. Naomi felt like the shop itself held secrets, much like the woman who ran it.

Lavina stopped a few paces from them, her gaze settling on Naomi with a faint, curious smile. “Now,” she said, her voice turning shrewd yet friendly, “what can I help you find today?”

Before Naomi could respond, Shmee puffed up his chest and stepped forward. “Nomis needs things! Clothes, maybe other things. Shmee helps barter!”

Lavina’s smile widened slightly, her eyes flicking toward the kobold. “Ah, of course. Shmee, my favorite little haggler. Always a pleasure,” she said, her tone playful but edged with a knowing sharpness.

Shmee wagged his tail proudly, already gesturing at a nearby shelf. “Yes, yes! Shmee knows what Nomis needs. Shmee gets good deals!”

Lavina chuckled softly, her gaze returning to Naomi. “Well then, Nomis,” she said, the name rolling smoothly off her tongue, “you’ve come to the right place. Let’s see what you need, shall we?”

Naomi nodded, feeling both curious and slightly nervous under Lavina’s watchful eyes.

Naomi browsed the shop as Shmee darted from shelf to shelf, grabbing items he deemed essential with an energy that left her trying to keep up. Lavina, ever the watchful shopkeeper, silently observed, her hazel eyes flicking between Naomi and Shmee as if gauging every movement and decision.

“Nomis needs this,” Shmee declared, holding up a pair of sturdy boots. “Feet no hurt! Boots good!”

Naomi smiled and nodded, adding the boots to the growing pile of items Lavina had begun arranging neatly on the counter. Shirts, pants, socks, undergarments, and even a thick cloak soon followed, most of which Lavina subtly steered toward the better-quality options without dramatically increasing the cost.

“And this!” Shmee suddenly squeaked, holding up a small belt knife in a leather sheath.

Naomi raised an eyebrow. “A knife?”

“Yip!” Shmee said, waving the knife in front of her face. “World dangerous! Raccoons tricksy! Always need knife! Shmee never without knife!” He patted the small blade strapped to his side as if to prove his point.

Naomi chuckled, shaking her head. “I don’t think I’ll need—”

“Always need knife!” Shmee interrupted, his tone insistent. “For cutting vines, scaring squirrels, or poking tricksy beasts. Nomis no survive without knife!”

Lavina chuckled softly, stepping closer. “He’s not wrong,” she said with a kind but knowing smile. “A simple blade can be a lifesaver in a pinch. And this one,” she plucked the knife from Shmee’s claws, “is sturdy enough to last but not so sharp it’s dangerous for someone inexperienced.”

Naomi hesitated but eventually nodded. “Alright, I’ll take it.”

Shmee let out a triumphant yip, darting off to find more items. Naomi turned her attention back to Lavina. “Thank you,” she said softly, her tone sincere.

The changes you've made to this part are excellent—they add more detail and personality to Lavina, Naomi, and even Shmee, while fleshing out the interaction. The additions, such as the description of the items (like usulavi oil and adjustable clothing), make the world feel richer and more immersive. Here's how it looks with the adjusted flow:

Lavina smiled, a glint of something more in her eyes. “It’s nothing, dear. Now, let’s see about the rest of your list.”

“That’s two shirts—those will fit to your size when you put them on, dear, as with all the clothing on your list. Miss Lavina only sells the best,” she added with a wink.

Naomi nodded, watching as Lavina began listing off the rest of the items.

“Two pairs of pants, five pairs of socks—thick and warm. Four pairs thin and breathable. Undergarments for comfort and practicality. A thick woolen cloak with a simple clasp. A small, practical belt pouch for carrying personal items. A leather-bound water skin. A basic hygiene kit, including mild soap and a soft cloth.”

She paused, holding up a small bottle. “And this—usulavi oil. You described it well enough for me to know it’s what you need,” she said with a warm smile, passing Naomi the bottle. Naomi took it, relief washing over her. “And a wide-tooth comb, of course,” Lavina added, setting it down gently.

Naomi smiled gratefully. “Thank you,” she said softly.

As Shmee inspected a rack of gloves, Naomi leaned closer to Lavina. “Do you have anything for him?” she whispered, glancing at the kobold’s patchwork clothing.

Lavina’s eyes softened, and a small, knowing smile spread across her lips. “I might have something that’s been… sitting around for a while.” She turned and retrieved a small bundle of leather armor from a nearby shelf. It was simple, clearly used, but still in good condition.

“I doubt he’d let you buy it outright,” Lavina murmured with a wink. “So let’s call it a throw-in for such a charming customer as yourself.”

Naomi grinned. “Thank you… he… well… he saved my life. He’s been sleeping in front of my door at The Hearthstone” (or whatever Bjorn's inn is named).

Lavina’s smile widened. “In that case, for a few more coppers, I have something else he would love, if you don’t mind him sleeping in your room.”

Naomi hesitated, then chuckled. “I don’t mind, as long as he shuts up when it’s time for bed.”

“Indeed,” Lavina laughed softly, nodding in approval. “I’ll throw that in too.”

By the time Shmee returned, his arms full of trinkets he deemed “essential,” Lavina had already packed the leather armor and the other items into the pile without comment.

“Ready?” Shmee asked, his tail wagging as he dropped the trinkets on the counter.

“Ready,” Naomi said, smiling as she handed over the gold coin Bjorn had given her.

Shmee’s mouth opened, his ears twitching as if preparing to protest, but Lavina waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, hush, Shmee,” she said with a smirk, cutting him off before he could start fussing. “I’m giving the child a first-time buyer’s discount. And, since she’s such an interesting and unique young lady, I’m adding another discount on top of that. Half of these items have been sitting here for ages—it’s best to let them go to someone as lovely as Naomi here.”

Shmee huffed, crossing his arms and muttering something about "soft hearts and bad business," but he didn’t argue further.

Lavina turned her warm gaze back to Naomi, who was staring at the transaction with a mixture of gratitude and confusion. “Now, child,” Lavina said kindly, sliding a small pile of coins back across the counter to her, “let me explain how money works around here. You’ll need to understand it.”

Naomi hesitated, picking up the coins. There were several silver pieces and a handful of smaller copper ones, each one surprisingly heavy in her hand.

“In towns like this, our currency is made up of four main denominations: Copper, Silver, Gold, and Platinum,” Lavina began, her tone patient. She tapped each type of coin on the counter as she spoke. “Ten Copper Coins make one Silver Coin, ten Silver Coins make one Gold Coin, and so on. It’s simple enough once you get used to it.”

Naomi nodded slowly, trying to process the information. “So… one gold coin is like… a hundred copper?”

“Exactly,” Lavina said with a pleased smile. “You’ve picked it up quickly. This,” she added, sliding the silver coins forward, “is your change. You’ll find silver is the most commonly used for everyday purchases, while copper is for smaller transactions. Gold, however, is typically used for larger purchases or savings.”

Naomi looked at the coins, feeling a little overwhelmed but grateful for the explanation. “Thank you,” she said, tucking them carefully into her new belt pouch.

Lavina tilted her head slightly, her sharp eyes lingering on Naomi for a moment longer than usual. “You’re quite welcome, my dear. And if you ever have questions, don’t hesitate to come back.”

Shmee, who had been tapping his claws impatiently against the counter, perked up again. “Now we go, yes? Shmee shows Nomis everything!”

Lavina chuckled softly. “Take care of her, Shmee. And Naomi,” she added, her voice softer, “you’ve made a friend here. Don’t hesitate to return if you need anything else. The socks and undergarments you ordered will take a day or two to be made, but once they arrive, I’ll have a runner deliver them to the inn, free of charge.”

Naomi nodded, smiling warmly. “I will. Thank you again, miss, so much, for everything.”

As Shmee practically dragged her toward the door, Naomi couldn’t help but glance back one last time. Lavina was already tidying the counter, but her sharp eyes still watched Naomi with a quiet curiosity. When Lavina noticed her looking, she gave her a small, knowing smile and a wink.

With her belt pouch jingling lightly and her pack slung over her shoulder, Naomi felt a little more prepared for the world outside—and a little more grateful for the people she’d met so far.

As they stepped out onto the bustling street, Naomi noticed Shmee darting ahead, dragging her new pack along the ground. The sound of the bag scraping against the stone-paved road was impossible to miss.

“Shmee,” she called, hurrying after him, “what are you doing? You’re going to ruin the new bag!”

Shmee froze mid-step, clutching the straps of the pack defensively. “Shmee helps! Shmee carries! Bag strong—no ruin!”

Naomi crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at him. “It’s scraping against the ground.”

Shmee glanced down at the bottom of the bag, which was indeed grazing the stones, and let out a small yip of dismay. “Bag heavy! Shmee not very tall!”

Naomi sighed, holding out her hand. “Give it to me, Shmee. I’ll carry it.”

Shmee hesitated, clutching the bag tighter. “But… but Shmee good helper!”

“I know,” Naomi said gently, smiling at him. “But if you ruin the bag, we won’t have anything to carry our stuff in, will we?”

Shmee’s ears drooped, and he let out a defeated sigh. “Fine… Nomis takes.” He reluctantly handed the pack over, glancing away as if embarrassed.

Naomi adjusted the straps on her shoulder, already feeling the familiar weight. “Thank you, Shmee. And you are a good helper—you just don’t need to do everything, okay?”

Shmee perked up slightly, his tail wagging as he trotted ahead. “Shmee still leads! Many places to show! Best places!”

Naomi shook her head, smiling as she followed him down the street. The town bustled with life around them—merchants calling out their wares, children laughing and darting between stalls, and the rhythmic clatter of horse hooves on cobblestones. Despite the heaviness of the bag, Naomi felt a sense of ease she hadn’t felt in days.

Shmee, of course, stopped at nearly every stall to point out something he deemed important, muttering about “shiny things” and “best bread” as they wandered through the streets. Naomi just shook her head, adjusting the bag as she went, feeling oddly at peace with the kobold’s endless energy leading the way.

Naomi and Shmee strolled down the bustling street, each holding a freshly bought kabob from a nearby stall. The skewers were loaded with perfectly grilled meat and vegetables, and Naomi savored every bite, the smoky flavor lingering on her tongue.

“This is amazing,” she said around a mouthful of food, grinning at Shmee. “How did you know this place would be so good?”

“Shmee knows everything!” the kobold declared, puffing out his chest proudly before taking a big bite of his kabob. His tail wagged behind him as he chewed noisily. “Best kabobs in town! Shmee’s favorite!”

Naomi laughed. “Alright, you’ve got good taste. I’ll give you that.”

Shmee glanced at her, his golden eyes narrowing playfully. “Nomis doubted Shmee? Shmee always knows best food!”

Naomi rolled her eyes, chuckling. “Sure you do, Shmee. Just don’t get too cocky—”

Before she could finish, Shmee bumped into someone ahead of him, his small frame jolting back a step. “Yip! Sorry! Shmee not look—”

The kobold he’d bumped into turned around slowly, revealing himself to be starkly different from Shmee. This kobold stood a little taller, his scales gleaming with a polished sheen, and he wore a finely tailored vest and trousers that seemed entirely out of place on the street. His posture was impeccable, his chin slightly raised, and his amber eyes glinted with irritation.

Behind him, two other kobolds lingered, dressed similarly but not as finely. They watched the scene with mild interest but said nothing.

The well-dressed kobold sneered down at Shmee, his tone sharp and biting. “Watch yourself, you… ragged little gutter lizard.” His voice was unnervingly smooth, almost human-like in its cadence.

Shmee’s ears drooped, and he stepped back, clutching his half-eaten kabob tightly. “Shmee sorry! Shmee didn’t see—”

“Of course you didn’t,” the kobold interrupted, brushing off an invisible speck of dirt from his pristine vest. “Too busy scurrying about like the filthy little vermin you are.” He glanced at Shmee’s patchwork clothing, his lip curling in disdain. “Typical.”

Naomi, still holding her kabob, frowned and stepped forward, opening her mouth to speak, but the well-dressed kobold ignored her entirely, his attention fixed on Shmee.

Shmee lowered his head slightly, his tail tucking behind him. “Shmee no mean to—”

“Enough,” the prissy kobold said, waving a claw dismissively. “Just keep your distance. Someone like you shouldn’t even be allowed on Trade Street.” He glanced back at his companions, who smirked but remained silent.

Naomi’s jaw clenched, her grip tightening on her kabob. “Hey!” she snapped, drawing the prissy kobold’s attention for the first time.

The kobold’s gaze flicked to her briefly, his expression unreadable, before he turned back to Shmee with a dismissive huff. “You associate with humans now? How quaint.”

“Shmee good!” the smaller kobold protested, stepping forward despite his nervous posture. “Shmee helps Nomis!”

The well-dressed kobold smirked. “Oh, I’m sure you do,” he said mockingly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Helping like the pathetic little scrap-chaser you are. Do try to stay out of my way, Shmee. I, Quellix Scaletail, have far more important matters to attend to.”

Naomi glared at him, stepping between Shmee and Quellix. “That’s enough,” she said firmly, her voice steady despite her rising anger. “He apologized. You don’t need to be a jerk about it.”

Quellix raised an eyebrow, his smirk faltering for just a moment before he straightened his vest and turned away. “Come,” he said to his companions, who followed him without a word. “I won’t waste my time with gutter filth and their pets.”

Naomi watched them go, her blood boiling, before turning to Shmee. The little kobold looked embarrassed, his ears flattened and his tail tucked low.

“Hey,” she said softly, crouching to meet his gaze. “Don’t listen to him, okay? He doesn’t know anything.”

Shmee nodded hesitantly, his ears perking up slightly. “Nomis right. Shmee no care what Scaletail says.” He took another defiant bite of his kabob, chewing aggressively. “Shmee better than him!”

Naomi smiled, standing back up. “Exactly. Now come on—let’s finish our food before it gets cold.”

As they continued walking, Shmee glanced back over his shoulder once, muttering under his breath. “Scaletail think he so fancy. Hmph. Shmee show him one day…”

Naomi didn’t respond, but she smiled faintly, knowing that Shmee’s pride wasn’t so easily broken.

As they walked along, continuing to enjoy their kabobs, Naomi glanced at Shmee, her curiosity getting the better of her. “So… who was that jerk, anyway?”

Shmee tilted his head, his ears twitching. “That jerk… jerk?” he repeated, tasting the word as if it were something foreign. “Shmee like jerk. What’s jerk?”

Naomi stifled a laugh. “A jerk is a person—or apparently a kobold—that’s just a rotten person. Mean for no reason. You know, someone like… him.”

Shmee’s eyes lit up with understanding, and he nodded vigorously. “Ohhh, yes! Jerks! Shmee likes jerks!” He paused, reconsidering, then corrected himself. “Shmee no likes jerks. But he big jerk. Perfect jerk!”

Naomi chuckled, shaking her head. “So, what’s his deal? Why’s he such a jerk?”

Shmee frowned, his tail flicking as he mulled over the question. “He… also kobold repressive.”

“Repressive?” Naomi repeated, her brow furrowing.

“Yip, yip! Repressive! Big, fancy kobold. Rich, rich. Many coins. Much shinies.” Shmee gestured dramatically with his half-eaten kabob. “Quellix Scaletail very rich. Very shiny. He think no one else good. No like kobolds who no gots coins.”

Naomi nodded slowly, taking another bite of her food as she thought it over. “So, he’s just stuck-up because he’s rich?”

“Yip! Very stuck-up! Tail very stiff!” Shmee huffed, glaring back in the direction they had come. “He no like Shmee. Think Shmee… what he call… gutter lizard.” He spat the word out like it was poison.

Naomi frowned, her stomach twisting slightly at the insult. “That’s awful.”

“Shmee no care,” the kobold said defiantly, puffing out his chest again. “Shmee good helper. Shmee find best deals. Shmee has Nomis! What Scaletail has? Boring shinies.”

Naomi laughed despite herself, reaching out to pat Shmee lightly on the shoulder. “You’re right. Forget him.”

Shmee grinned up at her, his tail wagging. “Shmee forgets already!”

Naomi smiled as they continued down the street, the sharp words of Quellix Scaletail already fading into the background. Whatever Shmee had been through, his resilience and his ability to bounce back never failed to amaze her.

They continued down the bustling street, Shmee leading the way with boundless energy as they passed shop after shop. Naomi paused a few times, glancing into windows or at displays, but she refused to spend any more coin just yet. Shmee muttered under his breath about “Nomis too picky,” but he didn’t argue, instead steering her toward a shop he insisted was worth the visit.

“This one!” Shmee said, pointing enthusiastically to a modest-looking shop with a sturdy wooden sign swinging above the door. The words “Steelheart’s Provisions” were etched into the wood, and the faint clinking of metal could be heard from within. “Bestest deals! Next to Lavina, of course. Shmee swear!”

Naomi hesitated but shrugged. “Alright, Shmee. Let’s check it out.”

As they stepped inside, Naomi’s gaze was immediately drawn to the rows of shelves and racks filled with weapons, shields, and various pieces of adventuring gear. The air smelled faintly of oil and steel, and the light from the windows reflected off polished metal surfaces.

Before she could take it all in, a figure emerged from the back of the shop—a man in full plate armor, his every step resonating with a metallic clang. The armor gleamed, intricate patterns etched along the edges, and yet there was something seamless and natural about the way he moved, as though the armor itself was alive.

When he spoke, his voice was calm and conversational, entirely normal despite the fact that it came from within a suit of armor that encased him completely. “Welcome to Steelheart’s. Looking for something specific?”

Before Naomi could respond, Shmee stepped forward, puffing out his chest. “This Valkanite!” he announced proudly, gesturing with both hands toward the armored figure. “He smart! He good! He knows items Nomis might need for defenses, for safety! He best in town!”

The Valkanite turned slightly, his helm tilting as though he were studying her. “I appreciate the enthusiasm, little one,” he said, his tone amused. “I’m Steelhearth. The shop’s owner and your guide to staying safe.”

Naomi tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “Steelhearth? That’s your name?”

The Valkanite nodded. “It’s the name I chose for myself. We Valkanites have to make our own, as we aren’t born into them like others.”

Naomi blinked, looking him over. “So… you’re really a person? Not just… armor?”

Steelhearth let out a low chuckle, the sound echoing faintly within his metal frame. “Ah, that’s the question, isn’t it? Are we people, or are we something else? Truth is, no one really knows—not even us.”

Naomi frowned. “How can you not know where you came from?”

Steelhearth gestured for her to follow as he walked toward a section of the shop filled with lighter gear. “It’s one of the great mysteries of the Valkanites. Some say we were created by magic, forged by a long-forgotten spell. Others believe we were a people all along, though what form we took before becoming what we are now is anyone’s guess.”

He paused, turning to face her. “But think about it—do humans truly know where they come from? Or dwarves, for that matter? Unless you ask a dwarf.” His voice grew playful, and he added with a laugh, “They’ll tell you they were carved from stone by the gods themselves, which is, of course, absolutely ridiculous.”

Naomi found herself smiling. “Okay, fair point. But you’re really… alive?”

Steelhearth inclined his helm slightly. “As alive as you are, I imagine. I think, I feel, I dream. I don’t bleed, but I know pain. I don’t age, but I know loss. Whatever we are, we live, just as you do.”

Naomi stared at him for a moment, unsure how to process everything he’d said. Finally, she nodded. “That’s… kind of amazing.”

Steelhearth chuckled again. “It is, isn’t it? Now, let’s get back to business. I’d recommend starting with some basics—a small shield, perhaps, or reinforced gloves. Maybe a light chest piece to complement that belt knife your kobold friend was so proud to pick out for you.”

Shmee wagged his tail, clearly pleased. “See? Shmee say he smart! Valkanite always knows what Nomis needs!

Naomi hesitated, looking at the gloves Steelhearth held out. “Um… I don’t plan on doing any fighting anytime soon,” she said, her voice uncertain.

Shmee hopped up and down beside her, waving his arms. “Shmee wants to make sure Nomis safes! Nomis needs amulet or ring! Something safe, something protective!”

Naomi raised an eyebrow at him. “Protective? Like what?”

Shmee suddenly looked embarrassed, glancing around before leaning up on his tiptoes to whisper. “How much shinies we have left?”

Naomi suppressed a laugh as she knelt slightly, whispering back. “Not a lot, Shmee. I don’t think we can afford much.”

Steelhearth observed the exchange with amused interest, folding his metal hands together. “Protective items, hmm?” he said thoughtfully. “You’re in luck. I do carry a few basic enchanted amulets and rings—practical items for those who don’t fancy combat but want a bit of peace of mind.”

Shmee’s ears perked up, and his tail wagged furiously. “See? Shmee knows! Nomis need shiny protections!”

Naomi stood back up, giving Steelhearth a wary look. “I appreciate it, but… how much are we talking about here? I’m new to all of this.”

Steelhearth gestured toward a glass display case near the counter. Inside were a variety of small items—amulets, rings, and bracelets, all simple but elegant in design. “The ones in your price range,” he said kindly, “are these here.” He pointed to a small silver amulet with a faintly glowing blue gem in its center. “This, for instance, is an Amulet of Minor Warding. It provides a faint protective barrier against minor harm—nothing fancy, but it’s a good precaution. Affordable, too.”

Naomi’s eyes flicked to the price tag, relief washing over her when she saw the amount listed in silver rather than gold. She looked down at Shmee. “What do you think?”

Shmee wagged his tail, tapping the glass with his claw. “Yes! Yes! Nomis need this! Minor ward good! Shmee knows!”

Naomi hesitated, looking at the amulet in the display case. “What exactly does it protect against?” she asked, glancing up at Steelhearth.

The Valkanite tilted his helm slightly, his tone calm and informative. “This particular amulet, the Amulet of Minor Warding, is designed to shield the wearer from small, everyday dangers. Nothing too powerful, mind you, but it has its uses. For instance, if someone were to throw a stone or swing a blunt object at you, the amulet might deflect the blow slightly—enough to reduce the impact and save you from a nasty bruise or worse.”

Naomi’s brow furrowed. “So, it’s not going to stop a sword or anything, right?”

Steelhearth chuckled softly, the sound echoing faintly from his armored chest. “No, it won’t stop a sword or an arrow—not entirely, at least. But it might shift the angle just enough to make a glancing blow instead of a direct one. It’s a subtle but often life-saving enchantment for those who don’t plan on stepping into battle.”

Shmee nodded vigorously, tapping the glass with his claw. “See? Shmee told Nomis! Not useless! Protects from tricksy things! Like falling rocks! Or angry raccoons!”

Naomi smirked, folding her arms. “Angry raccoons, huh?”

“Raccoons dangerous!” Shmee insisted, his tail wagging anxiously. “Sharp teeths! Sneaky paws! Always tricksy!”

Steelhearth chuckled again, gesturing to the amulet. “Your companion has a point, strange as it may seem. This amulet is ideal for someone who isn’t accustomed to danger but might find themselves in unpredictable situations. It’s affordable, durable, and reliable—nothing flashy, but it gets the job done.”

Naomi nodded, considering his explanation. It didn’t sound overpowered, but it wasn’t useless either—it struck a balance between practicality and protection. She looked down at Shmee, who was watching her expectantly. “What do you think?”

“Nomis needs it!” Shmee said firmly, bouncing on his toes. “Shmee says yes!”

Naomi smiled, shaking her head. “Alright. We’ll take it.”

Steelhearth carefully removed the amulet from the display, sliding it onto a sturdy leather cord before handing it to Naomi. “Wear it well,” he said, his voice kind but firm. “And remember: it won’t make you invincible, but it may just give you the edge you need when you least expect it.”

Naomi slipped the amulet over her head, feeling the cool weight of it settle against her chest. “Thank you, Steelhearth,” she said sincerely.

Shmee wagged his tail, his golden eyes bright with excitement. “Yip! Nomis safe now!”

Steelhearth gave a small, respectful nod. “Safe travels to you both. And if you ever need anything else—be it advice or equipment—you’re always welcome here.”

As Naomi and Shmee stepped out into the street, Naomi touched the amulet lightly, her fingers brushing over the smooth blue gem. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a step in the right direction. And as Shmee bounced ahead, chattering about the “best shiny deals” still to come, she couldn’t help but feel a little more secure, knowing she had something—even if small—on her side.

They left the shop, Naomi adjusting the pendant that now hung around her neck. She wasn’t entirely sure how much it would protect her, but it felt comforting all the same. The blue gem shimmered faintly in the sunlight as she glanced down at Shmee, who was trotting ahead.

“So, what now, Shmee?” she asked, her tone curious.

The kobold glanced up at her, his golden eyes glinting as the light reflected off his scales. “Wells…” he began, rubbing his chin dramatically as though deep in thought. “Shmee like drinks, but Nomis no drinks—only juices. Sigh.” He threw his arms up in mock exasperation. “Sooo… no drinks!”

Naomi smirked, raising an eyebrow at him. “Okay, no drinks. What else, then?”

Shmee perked up, his tail wagging furiously. “Sweets!” he declared with a triumphant yip. “Nomis like sweets? Shmee knows best hot buns sweets maker in…” He paused, waving his claws dramatically toward the town around them. Best sweets in Redmarch!”

Naomi laughed, shaking her head. “Alright, sweets it is. Lead the way, oh wise Shmee.”

Shmee puffed out his chest proudly. “Shmee always knows best places! Follow, Nomis!”

As he scurried ahead, weaving through the bustling streets, Naomi couldn’t help but smile. For all the chaos and unfamiliarity of her situation, Shmee’s endless energy and enthusiasm made it feel just a little easier to handle. If he said these hot buns were the best in town, she didn’t doubt for a second that he was right.

Shmee was right—those sweets were the best she had ever had!

Naomi bit into the warm, gooey pastry, her eyes widening in surprise and delight as the flavors exploded on her tongue. It was sweet, but not overpoweringly so, with just the right balance of richness. The soft, doughy center practically melted in her mouth, swirled with a spiced filling that reminded her of the best cinnamon roll she’d ever eaten.

But the frosting—that was something else entirely. Smooth and creamy, it wasn’t overly sugary but carried a subtle hint of vanilla and something she couldn’t quite place. It was as if the baker had distilled pure joy into that topping.

Naomi let out a small, involuntary hum of pleasure. “Oh my God,” she mumbled around a mouthful, barely able to form words. “This is… this is amazing.”

Shmee beamed up at her, his own mouth stuffed with the same pastry. “Yip! Shmee told Nomis! Best hot buns in Redmarch! Shmee always knows!”

She nodded vigorously, already taking another bite. “I believe you now. These are… they’re perfect. I don’t think I’ve ever had anything this good before.”

Shmee wagged his tail, his golden eyes sparkling. “Told you! Told you!”

Naomi took a moment to savor the last bite, licking a bit of frosting from her fingers. “I’m never going to doubt your food recommendations again, Shmee.”

The kobold puffed up with pride, wiping crumbs off his scaled chin. “Shmee knows all best places. Nomis always follow Shmee. Shmee keeps Nomis safe and fed!”

Naomi couldn’t help but laugh, her mood lighter than it had been in days. For the first time since arriving in this strange world, things felt… okay. All it had taken was the perfect sweet bun and the infectious enthusiasm of her new kobold companion.

They returned to the inn as the sun began to melt behind the distant trees, casting the sky in deep hues of orange and pink. The warm light spilled across the landscape, painting everything in soft shadows as Naomi stretched her arms, feeling the satisfying ache of a long day well spent.

Shmee, ever eager, scurried up to her side, his tail wagging furiously. “Nomis tired, yes? Shmee take pack! Shmee put stuffs aways!” Without waiting for a response, he reached out and tugged the pack from her shoulder, his small frame wobbling slightly under the weight.

Naomi chuckled and steadied him. “Okay,” she said with a faint smile. “But be gentle with the bag, Shmee. There are a few items in there for you, too—things I got from Miss Lavina. So be careful!” She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “One of those items stays in the room. You’ll know which one when you see it.”

Shmee’s golden eyes widened, and he nodded so vigorously his ears flapped. “Yip! Shmee will be careful! Shmee knows best! Shmee will find special item!” He turned and scurried toward the stairs, the pack bouncing slightly as he carried it with both hands.

Naomi watched him go, shaking her head fondly. “That little guy’s got more energy than anyone I’ve ever met,” she murmured to herself. She lingered for a moment, glancing around the inn as the first patrons of the evening began filtering in, the sounds of laughter and clinking dishes filling the air. It was lively but cozy—a stark contrast to the world outside.

Naomi turned toward the bar, her eyes scanning the room as the comforting sounds of the bustling inn surrounded her. Garrick was there, sitting on one of the stools, a half-empty mug in front of him and a faint flush to his rugged face. He was smiling faintly, humming a low tune under his breath, the kind of tune that made her think it might be tied to an old memory.

She didn’t see Bjorn anywhere, though, which struck her as odd.

As she stood there, debating what to do, her eyes drifted to the stairs, where Shmee was struggling valiantly to drag her pack up step by step. The kobold grunted with each tug, his small claws gripping the straps tightly as the weight of the bag made his progress slow and arduous.

Naomi took a hesitant step toward him, her instinct to help rising, but she stopped herself. She knew Shmee—knew his fierce sense of pride and determination. If she tried to take the pack back now, it would only hurt his feelings, maybe even embarrass him.

She sighed, her fingers twitching at her sides as she watched him, her heart torn. “You’ve got this, Shmee,” she whispered under her breath. “I believe in you.”

With that, she turned back toward the bar and approached Garrick, who looked up as she neared, his scruffy beard shifting as his smile widened. “Well, hey there, lass,” he said warmly, his deep voice carrying the friendliness that always seemed to accompany his slightly tipsy state. He lifted his mug in a casual salute. “How’s your first day in Redmarch, eh? Survived, didn’t ya?”

Naomi smiled faintly, leaning on the bar beside him. “Barely,” she said with a chuckle. “It was… a lot. But Shmee made it easier.”

Garrick let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head. “That little runt? He’s a good one. Odd as a three-legged horse, but good.” He took another sip of his drink, his smile never faltering. “And how’re you holding up, lass? Feeling more at home yet?”

She hesitated, glancing toward the stairs again, but she nodded. “Yeah, I think so. It’s a lot to take in, but… it’s getting better.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Garrick said, his voice warm and encouraging. He set his mug down, tilting his head slightly as he studied her. “But you didn’t come over here just to chat with ol’ Garrick, did ya?”

Naomi offered a small smile. “Have you seen Bjorn? He’s usually around, but I haven’t seen him since we got back.”

“Aye, he’s in the back, I think,” Garrick said, his voice carrying its usual warm tone. He raised his mug to finish the last of his drink, tilting his head back as he drained it completely. Then, with a satisfied sigh, he slammed the mug down on the counter.

The mug shattered on impact, sending shards of glass skittering across the wood.

Naomi jumped slightly at the sound, her eyes wide as she looked from the broken glass to Garrick. Maggie, who had been working behind the bar, turned with a sharp look.

Garrick’s expression immediately shifted into a mix of surprise and sheepishness. He held up his hands, already brushing away the glass from his fingers. “Sorry, lass!” he said quickly, looking at both Naomi and Maggie in turn. “I forget my own… well, what used to be my strength!” He let out a hearty laugh, shaking the shards from his hand as though it were nothing.

Maggie rolled her eyes, muttering something about “reckless oafs” under her breath as she fetched a broom. “You’re lucky you didn’t slice your hand open, you fool,” she chided, though her tone was more exasperated than angry.

“I’ll live, Maggie,” Garrick said with a grin, leaning back against the bar. “Wouldn’t be the first time I got a little too… enthusiastic.” He gave Naomi a wink, still chuckling.

Naomi shook her head, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips despite herself. “You’re something else, Garrick.”

“Aye, that I am,” he said proudly, crossing his arms over his chest. “But don’t let me keep you waiting, lass. Bjorn’s probably still back there, cookin’ up something or other.”

Naomi nodded, stepping away from the bar as Maggie muttered something about “never a dull moment.” She couldn’t help but smile as she headed toward the back, leaving Garrick to Maggie’s scolding and another round of hearty laughter.

Naomi walked into the kitchen and found Bjorn sitting on what, to her, would be a large table but to him was more like a sturdy bench. His broad frame seemed almost too big for the space, but he looked at ease, his apron still tied around his waist.

“Ahh, child!” he boomed as he noticed her. “How was your day? Good?”

Naomi smiled and leaned against the doorway. “Yeah, Shmee took care of me. He led me to the best stores… I think, at least,” she added with a laugh.

Bjorn chuckled, his deep voice rumbling. “Good, good. That little one has a knack for sniffing out the right places.”

Naomi nodded, the room falling quiet for a moment. Then she hesitated, fidgeting with the pendant around her neck. “Bjorn?” she asked slowly, her voice quieter than before.

The big man tilted his head slightly, his warm gaze fixed on her. “Of course, child. What’s on your mind?”

She glanced back toward the door leading to the bar, then looked up at him. “Why does Garrick drink so much?”

Bjorn’s expression softened, and he let out a deep sigh. “Ahhh…” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck, his blue eyes flickering with something unspoken. “That’s… hard to explain. And not entirely my place.”

Naomi shifted uncomfortably, unsure if she’d overstepped, but Bjorn’s tone remained gentle as he continued.

“When we were adventuring… Garrick was in charge,” Bjorn said, his voice steady but tinged with a faint heaviness. “He ran our group—kept us together, kept us alive.” He looked toward the doorway as though he could see Garrick through it. “The last mission we were on…” He trailed off, his brows knitting together.

“All I can say is that it went badly. Very badly.” He shifted on the table, leaning forward slightly. “That man,” he said, nodding toward the door, “carries a lot of guilt. More than most could bear. He shoulders more than anyone should have to. Drinking… it’s his way of quieting the weight he carries. Of dulling the guilt.”

Naomi frowned, her heart sinking at the thought. “But it’s not his fault, is it?”

Bjorn shook his head slowly. “No, it’s not. But guilt doesn’t care about truth, child. It’s a heavy thing, and it doesn’t let go easily. Garrick…” He sighed again. “He’s a good man. One of the best I’ve ever known. But he’s still just a man, and sometimes… men break under the weight of what they’ve seen and done.”

Naomi was quiet for a moment, her thoughts churning. “Doesn’t he… doesn’t he want to let it go?”

Bjorn smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I think he does. But some things take time, and some scars never truly heal.” He straightened up, his tone shifting back to something lighter. “Don’t worry about Garrick too much, child. He’s stronger than he looks, even if he doesn’t know it. And he has me to keep an eye on him.”

Naomi nodded slowly, her gaze dropping to the floor. “Thanks for telling me, Bjorn.”

The big man smiled warmly. “Of course, child. Now, enough heavy talk. Did you eat something while you were out, or do I need to feed you again?”

Naomi laughed softly, the tension easing slightly. “I’m fine. Shmee made sure I didn’t starve.”

Bjorn’s grin widened. “Good. That little rascal takes his duties seriously.”

She nodded, feeling a little lighter as she left the kitchen, Bjorn’s words still lingering in her mind.

Naomi smiled softly, brushing her fingers over the pendant around her neck. “Goodnight, Bjorn. And… thank you again. For everything.”

Bjorn gave her a warm, toothy grin, his massive hand waving her off like she didn’t need to say it. “Think nothing of it, child. You’re safe here, and that’s what matters.”

She hesitated for a moment, then added, “Oh, and… tell Garrick thanks for the donation, too. That was really kind of him.”

Bjorn chuckled, a deep rumble that filled the kitchen. “I will. But don’t let him hear you calling him kind—he might take it as an insult.”

Naomi laughed softly, shaking her head. “Goodnight, Bjorn.”

“Goodnight, Naomi,” he replied, his voice gentle.

She turned and made her way out of the kitchen, climbing the stairs to the upper floor. The sound of the bustling inn grew quieter with each step until the hallway above was nearly silent. As she walked toward her room, the events of the day played over in her mind, leaving her feeling exhausted but oddly content.

She reached her door, pausing for a moment before pushing it open and stepping inside.

When Naomi stepped into her room, she froze. At the end of the bed, sitting on the floor, was Shmee. The kobold was clutching the new bedding against his chest—a large, fluffy dog bed that Lavina had tucked into their purchase. To Naomi, it was just a practical and comfortable addition, but to Shmee, it was everything.

He was crying softly, his small frame shaking as tears rolled down his scaled cheeks and snout.

“Shmee…” Naomi whispered, her heart aching. She rushed over and wrapped him in a firm hug, crouching down beside him. “Shmee, don’t cry!”

Shmee sniffled, wiping his eyes with the back of his clawed hand, though the tears kept coming. “Bed for Shmee…” he managed between quiet sobs. “And… armor for Shmee? Bestest gifts anyones evers given Shmee…” He buried his face in the bedding, his voice muffled as he added, “Shmee sorry for tearsis.”

Naomi tightened her arms around him, her own eyes stinging as she smiled softly. “Don’t be sorry, Shmee. You don’t have to be sorry.”

The kobold looked up at her, his golden eyes shimmering with gratitude as fresh tears slid down his snout. “Shmee always take care of Nomis. Always! Shmee always defends Nomis. Thank yous, thank yous for everything!”

Naomi knelt beside him, her hand gently resting on his shoulder. “You can always be my knight, Shmee.”

Shmee’s ears perked up, his tail wagging furiously as he stared at her in awe. “Nomis… knight? Shmee knight!” he whispered, his voice full of wonder.

Together, they gently laid the overly fluffy dog bed—no, Shmee’s bed—beside Naomi’s own. She reached for the extra blanket she had asked Bjorn for earlier and handed it to him with a soft smile.

“Here, this is yours too,” she said, watching as Shmee eagerly took it.

He wrapped himself in the blanket, his small body curling up in the center of the soft bed. His tail tucked around him as he snuggled into the plush fabric, his golden eyes peeking up at her one last time before they began to close. “Shmee always be Nomis’s knight…” he murmured sleepily.

“Warm… soft… bestest bed,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as his tears began to dry.

Naomi sat back on her bed, watching as Shmee’s breathing slowed and he nestled deeper into the plush bedding. She smiled, feeling a deep sense of warmth in her chest as she pulled her own blankets over herself.

“Goodnight, Shmee,” she said softly.

“Goodnight, Nomis,” came the kobold’s drowsy reply.

As she lay there, the faint sound of Shmee’s quiet, peaceful snores filled the room. For the first time since she’d arrived in this strange world, Naomi felt truly at peace.

As Shmee snuggled into his new bed, the warmth of the soft blanket wrapping around him, his weary eyes began to close. Just as sleep began to take him, he heard a voice—not from Naomi, nor from the room, but a steady, powerful presence echoing in his mind.

Level Up!

Shmees eyes popped open

Class Combination Achieved: Scavenger (Level 8) + Knight (Level 1)

Combined Class Obtained: Scrapknight (Level 4)

New Skills Gained:

Advanced Loyalty

Advanced Detection

Superior Defense

Shmee’s tail twitched with excitement. A proud smile spread across his face as he whispered softly, “Scrapknight Shmee… protector of Nomis. Always protect Nomis.”

Curling back under the blanket, Shmee let out a contented sigh. With his new strength and skills, he felt more confident than ever. No matter what dangers awaited, Shmee was ready to face them—because he knew who he was, and he knew his purpose.

This time, as he drifted into sleep, he dreamed of being a knight in shining armor, standing steadfast at Naomi’s side.