Thorek clapped a heavy, armored hand on my shoulder, nearly buckling my knees again. "Aye, a meal ticket is as good an excuse as any! But give me a few minutes, lad. I need to pry myself out of this runic tin can before I chafe to death. Oh, and before I forget—this silent brooder is Hendrix."
The Dwarf gestured to the sleek Beast-Man, then turned and marched heavily down the hall toward the Vanguard-tier rooms, his boots clanking against the stone.
I was left standing awkwardly on the landing with the feline Beast-Man and his exotic pet. Hendrix didn't say a word. He just gave a curt, polite nod, then raised a single finger and pointed at the silver, feathered snake draped around his neck.
"Saura," Hendrix said. His voice was incredibly smooth and quiet, barely carrying over the ambient noise of the Guild.
"Nice to meet you both," I replied, offering a friendly, if slightly tired, smile. "I'm Noah. Noah Stargazer. And this demanding fluffball is Snow."
The moment the syllables of my last name left my mouth, Hendrix's calculating yellow eyes widened just a fraction. It was a micro-expression, there and gone in an instant, but spending a lifetime observing cats meant I caught it. He looked at me with a sudden, renewed intensity, but true to Thorek's description, he kept his mouth shut and simply leaned against the stone wall to wait.
Stargazer, I thought to myself. Note to self: find out if I accidentally named myself after a wanted criminal or a historical deity.
A few minutes later, Thorek returned, looking significantly wider without his armor compressing his chest. He was wearing a simple, thick woven tunic and heavy trousers, though he still had a hand-axe strapped to his broad leather belt.
"Right then!" Thorek boomed, rubbing his hands together. "To the tavern!"
We descended the grand staircase and waded into the chaotic, roaring blast-wave of the Guild's tavern. Thorek expertly navigated the crowd of rowdy mercenaries, dodging a flying wooden tankard with practiced ease, and led us to a sturdy, circular wooden table near the back wall.
No sooner had I dropped onto the wooden bench than a tiny, glowing ball of light zipped through the air and hovered directly over the center of our table.
I leaned back, expecting a classic, three-inch-tall fairy to ask for our order in a squeaky voice. Instead, the tiny glowing woman let out a small sigh, flared with blinding pink light, and rapidly expanded. In the blink of an eye, she went from the size of a moth to a five-foot-tall woman with iridescent, dragonfly-like wings protruding from her back and a stained server's apron tied around her waist.
My brain completely buffered. I just stared, my mouth slightly open, trying to process the casual violation of the square-cube law that had just happened right in front of my face.
Before I could even vocalize my shock, Snow hopped gracefully onto the center of the wooden table.
"You there. Winged peasant," Snow's voice echoed, though this time, she didn't just project it into my mind. She seemed to broadcast the telepathic intent outward. "I have had a profoundly irritating day. I require your finest, most premium cut of salmon. Raw. On a silver platter, if your establishment can manage such basic hospitality."
"Snow," I hissed, leaning forward and trying to grab her. "One, she can't hear you, and two, you're being incredibly rude."
"Premium raw salmon. Got it, hon," the fairy waitress interrupted, casually pulling a quill and a notepad from her apron. She didn't look shocked at all. She just jotted it down and looked over at Thorek. "And for you, iron-gut? The usual barrel of stout and a roasted boar leg?"
"You know me so well, Elara!" Thorek laughed.
I sat back, utterly defeated by the absolute absurdity of my new life. "You... you understood the cat?"
Elara the fairy popped her hip, giving me a dry look. "Honey, I work the night shift at the Vanguard Adventurer's Guild. Last week, I took a drink order from a telepathic sentient sword that sounded exactly like my ex-husband. A snooty cat asking for fish is the most normal thing that's happened to me all night. What can I get you, sweetie?"
"Umm..." I scratched the back of my head, feeling completely out of my depth. "I'll just have the special. I'm not local, so I have no idea what's on the menu."
"That works well enough for me," Elara said, tapping her quill. "Anything specific to drink?"
"I'll just have some water, please," I said. "And maybe some milk for the fluff."
Thorek slammed his massive fist onto the table, rattling the wood. "WATER, HE SAYS! NOT ON MY WATCH!"
The Dwarf stood up, his booming voice echoing over the crowd. "BRING HIM ALE! THE STRONGER THE BETTER! THIS IS HIS FIRST NIGHT AT THE GUILD!"
Thorek's shout riled up the entire room. The already rowdy tavern practically exploded with cheers and table-slapping. Before I could protest, heavy wooden tankards were being shoved into my hands by grinning mercenaries. The next thing I knew, the table was covered in food, the fairy brawlers were buying rounds, and somehow, even Snow ended up with her face buried in a shallow mug of something distinctly alcoholic.
Hours later, I lay sprawled on my back across the heavy wooden bed in the guest dorms, staring up at the dark ceiling.
My head was swimming in a warm, fuzzy haze. Beside my ear, Snow was curled into a miserable, silver-tipped ball on my pillow, mentally moaning about the room spinning while she refused to open her eyes.
Despite the lingering smell of ozone, the terrifying AR interface hiding in my vision, and the massive hangover I was definitely going to have tomorrow... I smiled in the dark.
I closed my eyes, letting the exhaustion finally take over.
Maybe, I thought to myself as I drifted off. Just maybe... this will be okay.