Your body aches.

You’ll make a note to wash your old clothes when you get the chance. But you aren’t exactly in a rush to do so. These new clothes are dry, comfy, and kind of help you forget about home. The belt is pretty nice too; it makes you feel sophisticated.

From your experience working in a tavern, you’ve learned two things:

One: Don’t leave Gnomanyan liquor near a flame. Horrible idea.

But more notably: There’s no place word travels faster than in a tavern.

If Captain Delaford, who is likely in Cohv at this moment, catches wind that one of the only Gnomanyans in Siltria is working in a tavern, your gray, fluffy ass is done for. She has your travel documents and knows your listed profession.

As much as you want to find Iron, and get paid, it seems you just have to lay low with Zeb for the night until his cousin can help you find this lightkeeper. Maybe they could help clear things up.

You hear the door click and open.

“Oh, y-you look great! I’m glad my old clothes fit – the colors suit you! Anyway, I got you something from the hunter section, though I did catch some weird glances – especially when I explained it was for the hunter in my room.”

Zeb sets the table. “Oh, I keep forgetting—would you like to join me in prayer?”

“…What does that entail?”

“You’re funny, Glass. Just hold my hands and close your eyes.”

“To the great liberator, he who guides all herds, we graze in your name. Please bless the souls of our ancestors, who endured so that we may prosper. I know not why you would send a hunter, but I am deeply grateful for the life you have spared me—twice today—so that I may remain with the herd and preserve our great pasture. By your grace I will host this savior in reverence to your name. Let it be so.”

…And to think you almost ditched the guy.

You start eating.

Zeb has brought you a warm, freshly baked loaf of bread with a fish stew. It is quite creamy with a blend of spices and herbs. The spicy aroma is making your mouth water, along with your eyes.

“I’ve been saving this wine for a special occasion, and with the way it’s taxed to the tail around here, I-I suppose this qualifies. I can’t think of a more fitting moment than after today, heh.”

About the circus? No… Look, you just met the guy. He’s probably happy someone is receptive to his niche interests—and, you know, keeping him alive. But now, sitting here with him, you can’t even remember the last time you shared a meal with someone—let alone went on a date. Wait—is this a date?

Erm… Let’s change the subject.

“So Zeb, what shall we drink to?”

“Well, uh, h-here’s to being alive! Heh. That’s a pretty good reason, right?”

You ask about any particular clothing customs in Cohv.

“Well, in Cohv people come from all over so they wear a lot of different things. It can get complicated. If you’re Herdish like me, you’re supposed to take off your shoes when you enter someone’s home—it’s considered disrespectful not to. But if you’re Mandaskan, I guess it’s okay to be inconsiderate? But to the Qoths, it’s actually illegal to be barefoot outside. So, we should probably get you some shoes, since, you know, it’s kind of the law here.”

“The Qoths have a lot of rules, huh?”

“They do. And while some of them are a bit… oppressive, or downright strange, they do keep us safe from the Nanzuul.”

“What about… The Circle?”

“I– I don’t know. I’ve never even heard of The Circle until today. They’d probably just think it’s some kind of rumor. I doubt anyone will believe what we saw. C-can we talk about something else please?”

“Of course. How about– say, your pants?”

He pauses, “My… pants?”

“Yes, they’re…very short.”

“Uh…thanks?  You really are from far away, huh? Siltria must seem like a different world to you.”

“It’s been… strange to say the least. Instead of beasts you have machines. The colors everywhere are so vibrant, it almost hurts my eyes. The food stings but the wine doesn’t. And the weirdest part is everyone I’ve run into has fed me for free– even those freaks from the forest. And when I first saw Cohv I–”

“W-wait. Hold on.” Zeb cuts you off. “They fed you?”

You catch yourself. “Oh, – uh. Yeah, you… They fed me you.”

“…I don’t find your jokes amusing, Glass.”

Zeb smiles, “But, I’m sure you’ll fit right in. Come to think of it, you do look a little more Siltrian now.”

“Well, that’s good. I appreciate the fresh clothes.”

“Of course… I like what you did with your hair.”

“Oh, thanks… I just undid it.”

You imagine possibly the least capable adventuring party: Some scrawny woman, a dainty bovani, and a drunkard, armed with nothing but a crappy little knife shared between the three of you. If a ferocious beast or a determined brigand turn up, perhaps you can all take turns shanking them until they stop being mean.

You’d love to just teach Zeb how to use a pistol and call it a day. If your dad was able to teach you when you were a little girl, surely it can’t be too hard to teach Zeb.

But let’s face it: You’re not in the west anymore. Until you can find one, you’re stuck feeling kind of defenseless. You have always envied the people that could scrap. Like just being able to punch, kick, or squeeze your way out of a mess somehow seems less exhausting than all the verbal gymnastics you’ve been doing today.

It’s still right here, in your now art-directed quest log.

You finish the last bite of your delicious dinner. The bread and stew was probably the most filling meal you’ve had in months. Though a touch spicy, it did help distract you from how raw your poor body feels tonight. The three cups of Siltrian wine that you had were refreshing, tasting like a nice fruit-water despite not really noticing the alcohol. You thank Zeb, who’s still working on his first cup, for the dinner and for being such an amazing host to you.

“It’sssthe least I can do. You ss-aved my life. *hic* Oh, goodness. I-I think I had too much.”

You help him clean up. Might be time to turn in for the night.

“Okay… I-I didn’t really think thisss– through, but there’ss only one bed. *hic* I can’t let you sleep on the floor because *hic* it would go againsst my faith, but I can’t–

“…Then we’ll share the bed.”

He stops. “A-are you ssure?…”

“There’s enough room; it’s no big deal. Unless you’re uncomfortable, then I can just sleep wherever.”

“N-no.. It’ss fiine. We’ll share.”

---

W-what are you doing… Oh goodness, there’s a hunter in your bed. Shama forgive you… But you’re just doing your duties as a host! You’d sleep on the floor, but it is also said that you mustn’t leave your bed unoccupied unless you are on pilgrimage, as it overlooks the unfortunate that cannot sleep on cushion. Okay, that’s fine. But there’s a dilemma: Shama didn’t mention twin-sized beds, so would it be sacrilege to vacate your side?

Thou shalt not bed with a hunter…

No no no– that means sex! …You think. Did it count when you kind of got a face full of her crotch this morning? No! Of course not! It was a necessary act to save you – and definitely not intentional!

Ugh, you idiot, this isn’t about God’s word. You’re utterly terrified of hunters– how did you end up with one in your bed? It’s not her fault she was created this way, and after the bath she already looks much… better? And– and she stood up for you and protected you, as she said she would! You’re being irrational and letting that stupid part of your brain act up again.

You should probably think of something else… Maybe you can just conversate with Glass. Yes! Just a normal conversation but laying down. That can help ease your mind—as long as she stops joking about eating you.

Oh my God her tail just brushed up against your leg.

AaAah.