"So this is White Oasis? Where's the oasis?" Blake said.

"What do you mean?" Riley said.

"Never mind."

After locking away their carriage at an inn, the two walked down the main road of the town, taking in its architecture and sights.

"So... Medieval fantasy. Makes sense, thinking about the carriage."

"Medieval?"

"It's what we call this kind of culture where I'm from."

"Oh, are you from overseas?"

"Uh... I'm from a place called Canada. Or America, I guess."

"I've never heard of it. What's it like?"

"Well, the buildings are a bit more... Clean? And there's a lot more of them, and they get really tall. At least in the big cities, or downtown."

"How tall?"

"See that church... Are those a thing here? Uh, see that spire thing over there?"

"Yeah?"

"Imagine something twice as tall as that, shaped like a huge box, bigger than it is tall, covered with little glowing square windows. That's the kind of building I used to live in."

"Wow... This Canada place sounds incredible."

"It's nothing. My cousin lived in a building ten times taller, in a place called New York."

"New York?"

"City, not a country like Canada is. Wait, hold on, I'm happy talking about my past, but is it really interesting? We've got other stuff to do, like get food and supplies."

"Right!"

She didn't want to come off like she was prying.

They went shopping, and sold off some of the slavers' possessions that they had no use for. Money wasn't a concern to them at this point, given how much the slavers were carrying, so they were able to stock up on everything from preserved food to emergency survival supplies without any worry.

They ended up at a pub to rest.

"Hey, can you do magic? Are we going to need to hoard water?"

Riley shook her head. "No. Not a lick."

"Okay, I'll have to figure that part out. I am not going to drink out of stream again like we did yesterday."

"Ah, of course."

"It's dangerous. There's germs in the water and you can get sick and die."

"Are germs what they call plague sprites where you come from?"

"Uh, yeah, let's go with that."

"Demihumans like me aren't affected by plague sprites."

"Good for you. I'm not immune to anything. Bartender, one drink please! I have no idea what you have, so just start me easy."

"Me too! Rye Grasswisp, please!"

"How old are you, young lady?"

"Fifteen!"

The bartender nodded and turned back around.

"Wait, you can't drink," Blake said.

"Yes I can."

"What the hell is the drinking age here?"

The bartender sets two drinks on the table and went back to work.

"Drinking age is sixteen human, eleven demihuman years," Riley said. "Oh, right, demons... Twenty five demon years. Different races develop differently. Age expectancy is wildly different, too. In your years, I'm twenty two and a half. I'm well of age to drink, despite my growth being stunted. Okay?"

"Demons," Blake said, probing. Her growth being stunted was new information to him, but the word demon caught his attention more firmly. Just as firmly as it proceeded to slip his mind, because there was a drink ready for him.

"I know I'm a fish out of water here, but this is always going to be really weird for me, okay?" he said.

"No complaints!"

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She was just glad he didn't call her short.

They passed the time chattering about the differences between Blake's country and here.

"Drinking age was twenty-one years where I was born, but I moved somewhere that it was... Eighteen? Nineteen? I think? When I was twenty. Been drinking for eight years."

"Oh?" Riley said, filling in the empty space in the conversation. She sloshed her drink around. It was half gone. Blake's was only a fifth gone.

"It's funny, really. Where I come form there's these things called 'cars' that are basically really fast carriages that run on... uh... well they're really dangerous. And you really don't want kids driving them. They'd kill people constantly. But you know how you don't want kids drinking either, right? They get poisoned."

Riley nodded, taking another chug.

"So my birth country had all these different laws in different places, with their own kind of weird autonomy, but still managed to raise the drinking age above the driving age everywhere with threats from up high. Like a second layer of government stepped in and said nah you gotta do this."

"Wait, is that like what the Empire is doing?"

Riley's face was definitely getting flush.

"Empire?"

"Yeah, the empire. They're like a second government that tells all the countries in it what to do. And we have the same, uh... Autonomy? That's the word you used, right? Problems. That's why Queensland is the only country that doesn't do Dominion, they're not in the Empire."

"What country are we in right now? Actually, just tell me all the nearby countries."

So she did. They were in the country of Greenwood, somewhere on the east side. The next big country to the east was Icemarch, known for its tall, snowy mountains. To the north was Deltania, the home country of the Empire. To the south and west were a mix of fragmented, warring microstates, all at least technically part of the Empire. The only country around that wasn't part of the Empire was Queensland, nestled between Greenwood and Icemarch. It was quite small, but home to a mountain cold enough to have a cap. As a country, it only came to exist a few years ago.

She finished her drink. "Another!" she said.

"Hey, you're getting really flush, shouldn't you stop?"

"Don't underestimate demihumans!"

They kept drinking and talking until Blake was wrecked. The bartender was amazed. He was giving Blake the really weak stuff, and Riley the strongest cheap stuff. Riley never let even a bit of her character slip. Blake, on the other hand, slurred his words after a single drink, and passed out at two.

Riley paid the bartender with Blake's money and pulled him up over her shoulders to head back to the Inn. It was a nice outing. They should do it again, she thought.

The other patrons watched in silence as the short-but-strong wolfling girl named Riley carried the muscular husk of fragility named Blake out the door. It was a sight to remember.

"Hey, was that girl..."

"Did you see the collar? Companion. Hands off."

"Damn it. There's never a good catch around here."

"Maybe we could cheat her off of him."

"Mmm. He seemed kinda smart."

"What about Nash?"

"The kid, huh? Maybe..."

----------------------------------------

Next day, after more town exploration and outfitting, they were at the same bar as before.

"Same thing I got yesterday. Water it down, half and half."

"Wise choice. It seems the brew is unfit for you," the bartender said.

"You got that right."

Blake would take it slow. Last night was a lesson well-learned.

He and Riley idled away chatting about how he was taking in the world for a good fifteen minutes. At that point, a few strangers approached them from behind.

"Welcome to town! Care to play a game, get to know the locals?"

"A game, huh? Like hopscotch? Like checkers?"

"Huh? What're those? Wait, no, you dolt, dice! Dice and cards!"

"Oh, so gambling. Well if it's a chance to chit-chat, sure. I'm still learning the area. Is there a minimum bet?"

"You'll see."

They gathered around a table with a bunch of other unsavory-looking folk at it. Blake and Riley were the only odd ones out.

"Here's the game."

He described a pretty complicated game. It had something to do with two six-sided dice and a deck of cards. Six suits, seven values.

Blake saw through the game's design pretty quickly. When the game started, it was basically betting on dice. After a few turns, it basically turned into parallel universe blackjack—with a weird round system—and a dice betting minigame. There were card recirculation rules tying the two games together, but he could safely ignore them as long as he was paying attention and counting when cards went in and out of play. It was clear they were only there to catch people up and make the game work with a small deck.

There was a single house rule: 'don't get emotional'. No problem, Blake thought.

The optimal strategy was simple, too. As long as he bet on seven and counted his cards between rounds, he'd come up above average on everything.

"Okay, game start!"

They played five full games. Blake won every single one.

"You got us good, man, what the hell. Was fun, let's do it again tomorrow."

"Sure thing."

Riley was a bit anxious, but if Blake was confident about it and kept winning, it shouldn't be a problem, she thought.

They came back again to play again the next night. This time, the dealer and roller was a boy with platinum-blonde hair in a scarf.

"What's up with the kid?"

"Oh, it's bring-your-kid-to-the-pub day. Don't worry, he's a natural, watch how good he shuffles."

The kid shuffled in silence, and the cards fluttered between his fingers like a magic trick.

"Cool. Let's get started."

"Split the deck, Nash."

"Yes," the kid said, and split the deck, shuffled, and repeated a few times.

They played as normal. But something was off. Blake's luck wasn't what it was last night. Not with the dice and not with the cards either. It was nearing the end of the third round of the second game and he was losing a lot of money.

"This is bad..."

They weren't cheating, not that Blake could tell. The dice were still averaging seven as far as he was counting, and he didn't see anything suspicious happening with the kid's hands. The kid was sweating, but that was about it.

"Hit me," he said.

The kid dealt him a king—kings have a value of seven—of flames. He was bust.

"Damn it—" he started, before realizing something.

That was the seventh king played that game. There are only six suits.

"That deck is modified!"

"What?" the kid said, visibly on the verge of freaking out.

"Everyone, count your cards, now. Then count the deck. If you don't, I'm taking back my money back and leaving," he said, his hand on his sword.

"Y-yes! Right away!" the head of the group said, putting down his cards and starting a pool.

The kid was a nervous wreck, melting in his chair and everything.

"Sure enough. It's stacked with high values. Whose deck is this?"

"It's the kid's! Not mine!" the leader of the group said.

"Don't tell me the dice are weighted too. Kid, shake out your sleeves."

The kid did as he was told, terrified. An extra six dice rolled out.

"Weighted dice, swapping them out to keep the right average value. And you started sweating when you realized you'd dealt six of the same card. You're coming out back."

Blake dragged the kid out behind the pub. Riley followed.

The other gamblers just sat at the table speechless. They'd been fucked. They were going to be forced to scapegoat Nash.

Five minutes passed.

"Wait, if we let him out back alone, he's going to spill everything!"

"Damn it! Why are we so stupid!"