Chapter Twenty

A sign hung crookedly from below a flower bed, overflowing with purple flowers. In cursive lettering it read, Tracy’s Tavern. Moira tilted her head, surprised by the feminine touches to the sign. Sloane held open the door for her. She looked up at the sign again and then walked in, her expectations already surpassed.

The tavern was crowded; mostly with elves, but also with the spattering of dwarves and winged folk, all nestled into every crook and cranny within the room. An elf with short, cropped mahogany hair pranced back and forth throughout the room, chatting with patrons as she passed out beers.

“Tracy! Two pints of your house beer, please,” shouted Sloane over the crowd.

The elf nodded at Sloane and gestured to an empty table in the far corner of the room. Sloane, Duke, and Moira proceeded toward the table before another group of weary patrons could snag it.

Several patrons stared openly at Duke as they settled into their seats.

“Is it okay that Duke’s in here?” Moira asked.

“Oh yeah. He’s your companion animal, right? It’s fine to have him here. Everyone’s just curious about what kind of creature he is. He’s—unique looking.” She smiled down at Duke and ruffled his hair.

“He’s a poodle. How’d you know he was my companion?” Moira asked, leaning in.

“Hmm, poodle? Never heard of it. He has such interesting fur.” Sloane patted Duke’s well-shaped poof.

“How did you know he was my companion?” Moira repeated, more forcefully.

Sloane turned her attention back to her and rested her face against her hand. “Well, he’s so well-behaved. You’re obviously a Ranger class, and I can tell you guys have been talking.”

“How’d you know that I’m a Ranger?” Moira eyed the Tavern exit.

“Well, yeah, you’ve got that look about you—and I Analyzed you earlier.” Sloane replied sheepishly.

Moira narrowed her eyes, “You Analyzed me?”

Before Sloane could reply, Tracy walked up to them, carrying two pints of beer and a bowl of water. She placed the water down by Duke first and stroked his head. Then, she set down the two pints.

“That’ll be two coppers. Who’s your new friend Sloane?”

Moira pulled out a gold coin, realizing she should’ve asked Fendrik for some smaller coins.

“Do you have any change?”

Tracy looked back at Sloane, scrutinizing her carefully before turning back to Moira.

“Sure, honey, it’ll just take a couple of minutes.”

Tracy grabbed the gold coin and slipped it into the apron at her waist. Sloane turned back to Moira.

Sloane grinned and took a sip of her beer. Moira grabbed her beer and gave it a quick sniff before taking a sip. The beer was the perfect blend of wheat and hops with a note of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

She took another sip and groaned with pleasure. She’d missed beer.

“Best beer in Tersus.” Sloane raised her beer in a toast.

Moira drank a big gulp of beer and leaned back against her chair. It’d been a long couple of weeks, and this was exactly what she needed. To just kick back, drink a beer, and have some good conversation.

She didn’t fully trust Sloane, or really trust her at all, but after weeks of no contact with anyone but Duke, she’d talk to just about anyone.

Sloane nursed her beer while using her foot to pet Duke’s back. Duke’s tongue lolled out from the side of his mouth, and he rolled over on his back.

He looked up at Moira. “Like Sloane, let’s stay with her.”

Moira’s heart softened slightly toward the strange elf as she watched the two of them interact.

She sighed. “Sloane, tell me about yourself.”

Sloane sipped her beer for a moment. “I’m an elf, clearly. Rogue class. Just turned nineteen last week.”

“Rogue class?” Moira asked, looking down at Duke skeptically. She was beginning to rethink how much she trusted his judgment.

He barked once and shook his head. “Like her,” he said, his voice steadier in her mind.

“Yeah, you heard that right—rare for an elf. Most of us are Rangers or Nature Mages, really anything in tune with the cycle of life—blah, blah, blah. But, you know what I think—”

Moira took a drink, eyes widening as Sloane continued to ramble on about the absurdity of all elves having similar classes. The girl was clearly passionate.

Sloane gasped for air and stuttered to a stop in her rampage of commentary, finally out of breath.

“So, I’m assuming you get a lot of flack about your class?” Moira lifted her eyebrow.

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

Sloane nodded, gulping down her beer.

“Why don’t you leave just Tersus, then? The city seems to be mostly elves, not a lot of diversity.”

“I grew up here, been here pretty much my whole life. It’s hard to leave a place when it’s all you know.” Sloane gazed down at the beer in her hands, lost in thought.

Moira let the silence settle over them, giving her a moment. She recognized a sense of longing for something more in her eyes. She’d felt the same way her whole life. Lost, desperate to find her purpose. Then everything she’d had came crashing down and—she couldn’t think about that right now.

“See! Let’s keep her.” Duke’s tail sped up from a slow wag to a frantic bluster of excitement.

“How about you? Where’s home?” Sloane asked, looking up from her beer.

Moira looked down at the table, noticing the swirling wood grain, gently tracing it with her finger. “Home is very far away.”

“Do you miss it?”

“More than anything. But not the place, so much—just the people, my family mostly.”

Duke nudged his head into her lap, nuzzling her hand. A reminder that she still had one piece of home with her.

Sloane’s eyes darkened, and her face went blank.

A jangle of coins interrupted as Tracy set her change down on the table.

“Now, keep those safe, will you?” Tracy said, giving her a pointed look.

Moira scooped them into her hand and added them to her Inventory, nodding in thanks to the elf.

“Life, though, it takes us to the strangest of places,” Moira said, watching the tavern owner move on to the next table of outlandish beings.

Sloane raised her beer. “Cheers to that.”

Moira clanked her glass. “To wherever life takes us, may it always have cold beer and good conversation.”

#

“But I think I’m ready now. To leave Tersus and all of this behind. I finally hit level 15 a week ago. It feels like the right time, you know?” Sloane twisted her hair with her fingers.

“Where do you think you’ll go?” Moira asked.

“Not sure, yet. Anywhere, I guess. I’m ready for some adventure.”

Moira chuckled grimly. “Are you sure about that?”

Sloane pursed her lips. “Well, I thought so until you said it like that.”

“Sorry. It’s just, I’ve seen some of the dangers first hand. It’s not all fun and games out there.”

“You mean the Dungeon?”

“Not just the Dungeon, but that’s a part of it, yes.”

Sloane leaned in, placing her elbows on the table. “Tell me.”

Moira leaned back in her chair. Flashes of blood, and gore, and death flew through her mind. She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to push back those thoughts. She wasn’t ready yet. Talking about it brought up too many harsh memories, even with Duke back.

As if she’d called his name, Duke stood up and nestled his head in her lap. His large brown eyes met hers, and her heart rate slowed.

He whined softly. “Talk.”

“I don’t think I can, bud.”

“You can.”

Moira gave him one last look and sighed. “I’d just left the Silivia Forest—”

She told her everything. Once she started talking, the words seemed to just spill out of her, like a waterfall tumbling forward, an unstoppable force.

Sloane listened patiently, asking a question here or there, but mostly letting her talk. The only exception was when she got to Duke’s death. Sloane reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly; tears glimmered in her eyes.

Moira had rushed forward with her story, not able to stop for fear of breaking down.

When she got to the white room, Sloane’s eyes widened, but she didn’t interrupt. Not until she mentioned The Morrigan. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “You actually met her?”

“You know her?” Moira asked.

“Do I know her? Do I know the goddess of Fate and War? No, I don’t know her. Nobody does,” she muttered back in hushed tones.

“Goddess?” Moira’s mouth dropped open. She’d known the woman was powerful, but she hadn’t realized she was a goddess.

“You’ve never heard of her? How? You must be from the most remote village in Caelum, for Danu’s sake.”

Moira took a drink of her almost empty beer. “Something like that.”

“Please tell me you’ve heard of the other gods? Dagda, Danu, Lugh?”

Moira shook her head.

Sloane’s eye twitched, jaw open as she stared back at Moira.

“Can you tell me about them?” she asked.

Sloane flipped her hair behind her back and rubbed her face. “I never thought I’d have to explain this to someone, especially someone who’s met one of the gods.”

Moira waved for her to continue.

“There are four gods—Dagda, Danu, Lugh, and The Morrigan, who you’ve met. The four of them were just normal mortals. They were just living their lives until the system settled over Caelum. Together, they ventured out as a team. The first Questers. They figured out the system. Once they did, they progressed quickly and eventually rose to become gods.”

“They were like us in the beginning?”

“Just people. Scholars and priests both argue about whether it was luck or something else that led to them to becoming gods.”

“Tell me more.”

Sloane sighed. “I’ll start with Danu, goddess of nature, the cycle of life and death. Danu is the goddess of the elves. We worship her, and her alone. She brings peace and balance to the world.”

“They’re not just powerful beings, then? Do they all have something that they rule over?” Moira interrupted.

“Well, yes. It comes with the godhood.”

“Alright, continue.”

“There is Dagda, the god of magic, the old man. He’s worshipped by mages, alchemists, and sometimes healers.”

“Why sometimes?”

“Dagda respects power—and healers, while useful, are limited to healing magic. So, most healers worship Danu. You know, the whole, cycle of life thing.”

“Hmm. What about Lugh?”

“Oh, Lugh. The god of oaths, truths, warriors, and kings. He’s the god of humans. But everyone respects him. The royal line of Caelum are all direct descendants of Lugh.”

Moira nodded. “Then what about—”

“Shh!”

Sloane leaned in, looking over her shoulder before whispering. “Finally, there’s The Morrigan. The goddess of Fate and War. Out of all the gods, people fear her the most. They whisper that her presence brings dark tidings. Everyone’s superstitious of The Morrigan, and her symbol, the crow.”

Moira swore. “What does it mean, then? That I saw her?”

“I don’t know. But it can’t be good news for Caelum.”