Chapter 123 – A Very Productive Morning

I wake to warmth.

This is not unusual.

Avelyn has apparently developed a habit of migrating toward me in her sleep, frequently managing to seize one of my arms for use as a pillow.

The highly suspicious force that causes me to pull closer in return remains unexplained.

Mildly concerning.

Naturally, I choose the most dignified and efficient response available.

I sink slightly deeper into the pillow and continue pretending consciousness is optional.

The universe can survive a few more minutes without being allowed to bask in my grace and beauty.

My tail gives a weak but nevertheless haughty flick beneath the blankets.

…

…

Nearly an hour later, Avelyn finally decides that she has extracted sufficient value from pretending to still be asleep.

She lifts her head from my arm and sits at the edge of the bed.

Tragic.

I reluctantly follow, crawling across the mattress before settling beside her.

Then, without a word, I withdraw two hairbrushes from my spatial storage and hand one over.

Avelyn looks at me.

Her lips twitch, and she giggles.

Again.

I narrow my eyes.

Vengeance shall be mine.

...Eventually.

For now, there are more pressing matters. Namely, the disaster currently occupying the top of my head.

Several minutes of mutual brushing later, civilization is restored.

We dress and leave the room, heading downstairs toward the inn lobby.

Halfway there, I glance sideways.

…

Avelyn is still wearing my hoodie.

Despite now owning replacement clothing.

The sleeves remain slightly too short on her, ending just above her wrists, and the hem sits noticeably higher than it does on me.

I continue walking.

We find the rest of the party already awake and gathered around one of the larger tables.

Most of them look irritatingly functional. They have presumably spent the better part of the last hour participating in society rather than selecting the objectively superior option of continuing to sleep.

Unfortunate for them.

Greetings are exchanged, and Avelyn and I claim two of the remaining chairs.

Conversation wanders lazily from there.

Nothing particularly important. Which is excellent.

Roughly half an hour later, someone requests the chessboard.

I create one from Starlight.

Then, in an act of profound mercy, I choose not to participate. Demonstrating my overwhelming strategic superiority first thing in the morning would be needlessly cruel.

Instead, I observe.

This proves considerably more entertaining.

Zeke plays exactly how I would expect.

Defensively.

Painfully defensively.

Within five moves, most of his pieces have arranged themselves into a compact formation around his king as though awaiting an artillery bombardment.

Marek is somehow worse.

He appears personally offended by the concept of sacrificing a piece for positional advantage.

Avelyn dismantles both of them efficiently.

Sylrae proves substantially more competent. Also substantially more dangerous to herself.

She attacks aggressively, advances pieces early, and repeatedly creates situations that almost become excellent several moves later.

Almost.

Then she notices something shiny. metaphorically speaking.

Avelyn traps her queen.

Sylrae stares at the board for several seconds.

“Hm.”

Avelyn smiles.

“You almost had me.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“No.”

Rin sits down next.

This is a mistake.

He loses to Avelyn. Then loses again to Marek. Then a third time to Sylrae. By the fourth defeat at the hands of Zeke, he is leaning back in his chair with crossed arms and an expression of profound indifference.

“I don’t even like this game.”

His ears are nearly horizontal.

Nobody comments. We are all extremely compassionate, after all.

The morning continues like that for nearly two hours before Sera finally appears. She steps through the inn entrance carrying her spear and looking considerably more rested than yesterday.

…She is still wearing Aurelion’s cloak.

Although it appears to have been modified. Her tail is visible behind her, and the hem is no longer dragging across the ground.

Fascinating.

Her ears rise slightly when she spots us.

We greet her.

She comes over and takes the open seat on my other side, then notices the board.

“What’s that?”

Rin straightens immediately.

“A terrible game.”

“It is not,” Avelyn says.

“It totally is.”

Sera studies the pieces.

“I don’t know how to play.”

Rin’s ears perk.

Interesting.

Avelyn immediately begins explaining the basic rules while I provide occasional corrections and tactical observations.

Naturally.

Once Sera understands how the pieces move, she requires a practice opponent.

Every head at the table turns toward Rin.

He looks around.

“Really?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Absolutely,” Sylrae adds.

Marek chuckles.

Rin mutters something under his breath and sits down.

Sera loses. Badly.

Rin leans back.

“Still a terrible game."

His tail is swishing so hard it nearly strikes the chair behind him.

Sera looks at it. Then at him.

“You seem happy.”

“I’m not.”

“...Okay.”

His tail swishes faster.

Magnificent.

We allow the morning to continue at roughly this level of productivity for a while longer.

Sera gets several more games in. She loses most of them, wins one against Zeke through what appears to be equal parts improving understanding and his refusal to sacrifice anything, then spends several minutes silently staring at the board afterward as though attempting to solve it permanently.

Good.

She needed this. A week spent fighting alone inside a dungeon is not something that simply vanishes because one has eaten ramen and slept for a night.

Eventually, Marek rests his forearms against the table.

“Alright. Since everyone’s here, we should probably go over the plan.”

Sera looks up.

“We head back to Bramblegate first,” he says. “Stay there for a week or two. Pick up some jobs, earn money, get you and the Little Miss adventuring experience.”

His gaze shifts toward her.

“Main goal is getting you to Tier Two before we start the real trip.”

Sera nods.

“That makes sense.”

“After that, Ironvale.”

Marek taps one finger against the tabletop.

“We’ll take escort jobs where they line up with our route. Caravan work, merchant protection, anything heading the right direction.”

Right. Rather than simply traveling across the kingdom like normal people, we will be ricocheting toward Ironvale through a series of paid detours.

Like a game of pinball, except the bumpers provide travel expenses.

Excellent.

Marek’s expression grows serious.

He opens his mouth.

Then his stomach growls loudly enough to interrupt him.

…

Every head at the table turns toward him.

Marek slowly closes his mouth.

Under the collective weight of our scrutiny, the enormous Bearkin somehow manages to wither slightly before scratching the back of his head.

Well.

I suppose that is as good an indicator as any.

I reach into my spatial storage and retrieve the holy grail of convenient breakfast foods.

Pre-prepared breakfast burritos.

Another product of my increasingly productive alliance with the local baker.

After several experiments, we managed to produce tortillas in a variety of sizes, which I subsequently packed with scrambled eggs, fried potatoes, thin strips of boar prepared as my best approximation of bacon, and a small amount of cabbage.

Ideally, there would also be bell peppers.

Unfortunately, even after joining the mildly alarming crowd that descended upon the caravan a day and a half ago, I was unable to locate a single one.

I can only conclude that they are either unavailable in this region or sufficiently valuable that someone more determined reached them first.

A tragedy either way.

There is also no cheese, due to Beastkin and their deeply inconvenient relationship with lactose, nor anything even remotely resembling hot sauce.

Functional, and certainly delicious, but incomplete.

Annoying.

I distribute the burritos around the table, making certain Marek receives the pair I prepared specifically for him.

His are enormous.

The baker had looked at me strangely when I requested tortillas of that size.

Then I explained that they were intended for a Bearkin roughly the dimensions of a moderately threatening wardrobe.

Understanding followed.

Each burrito is also double-wrapped for structural integrity.

Which is completely necessary.

Marek could probably consume one of the normal-sized versions in two bites if sufficiently motivated.

…

Actually.

I watch him immediately take a substantial bite from the first.

Now that I think about it, he is probably this hungry because last night’s ramen was nowhere near enough food for him.

He compensated with an impressive quantity of vegetables and several additional skewers, but even then…

There is no chance he went to bed completely satisfied.

My ears droop.

A failure on the part of the party cook.

“...I apologize.”

Marek pauses mid-chew.

He looks at me. Then at my ears.

Understanding arrives almost immediately.

His expression softens into one of his usual warm, gruff smiles.

“All good, Little Miss.”

One enormous hand rises toward my head.

Absolutely not.

I lean backward just far enough for the attempted headpat to pass harmlessly through empty air.

Marek chuckles.

Indignity successfully avoided.

He returns to his burrito while everyone else begins eating their own. After several bites, he clears his throat.

“Alright. Attempt number two.”

Rin snorts.

Marek ignores him and looks toward Sera.

“You’re still good with leaving today?”

Sera finishes chewing before answering.

“Yeah.”

“Alright.” Marek nods. “Once breakfast is done, you want some time to pack and say goodbye to everyone?”

“Already said goodbye.”

Of course she did.

Sera glances briefly toward me.

“How much can I pack?”

Marek follows her gaze. So does everyone else.

Ah.

Apparently I have become logistics.

I take another bite of my burrito and grant it the full appreciation it deserves before answering.

“Approximately twenty cubic meters.”

Sera’s ears rise.

I reconsider.

“Perhaps only ninety-eight percent of that. I am currently storing a substantial quantity of various meats, mana cores, cooking supplies, spare equipment, and several objects whose future purpose remains aesthetically promising but otherwise undetermined.”

Sylrae glances at me.

“Feathers?”

“Among other things.”

Five perfectly good feathers do not constitute clutter. Neither do my rocks, nor Avelyn’s increasingly questionable collection of debris and loose screws.

Rin grins.

“Our pack mule is very convenient, isn’t she?”

…

Avelyn makes a small choking noise beside me before dissolving into giggles.

I slowly turn toward Rin.

His grin weakens.

“I have made the decision to burn your potatoes next time.”

His ears shoot upright. The color drains slightly from his face.

“Wait.”

I take another bite.

“You wouldn’t.”

I chew. Swallow. Then smile pleasantly.

“Would you care to test that hypothesis?”

Rin stares at me. His tail goes still.

“No.”

Excellent.

Vengeance has been served.

Unlike his future potatoes.

Avelyn giggles harder.

Marek also gives a chuckle at Rin’s undeniably deserved misfortune before redirecting the conversation.

“In that case, we finish breakfast, Sera packs up, and then we head out?”

Everyone nods. Decision made.

I return my attention to the remainder of my burrito.

…

It really does need hot sauce.

An unfortunate state of affairs.

I add it to the task list.

...That list is becoming distressingly long.

At some point, I may actually need to begin completing things on it rather than treating it as a steadily expanding monument to future productivity.

Perhaps once we reach Bramblegate.

We will be staying there for a week or two while handling Adventurers’ Guild work, after all.

Surely I will have plenty of free time.

Yes.

That seems likely.

Conversation drifts toward increasingly mundane subjects from there, lasting another twenty minutes or so before Marek finally finishes the second of his massive burritos.

He pats his stomach in clear satisfaction.

“Amazing as always, Little Miss.”

He gives me a thumbs-up.

I return it. Elegantly, of course.

After breakfast, we file out of the inn and split apart.

Sylrae intends to visit her favorite grilled corn stall one final time before departure and has somehow convinced Rin to accompany her.

The Catkin is almost certainly going to become temporary corn storage.

Deserved.

Marek and Zeke head toward the market to collect anything remotely useful for travel. Rope, preserved food, spare waterskins, the usual assortment of things that become significantly less annoying to carry when one owns spatial storage.

The ring I gave Marek continues to prove itself an excellent investment.

Sera, Avelyn, and I head toward Sera’s house.

Naturally, we take the rooftops.

Within seconds, the three of us are moving across the village at speeds that would probably cause several residents to develop concerns if they looked upward at the wrong moment.

I glance toward Sera.

Hm.

She is fast.

Very fast, actually.

Not quite matching Avelyn, but close enough that the difference is smaller than I expected.

And Avelyn’s Dexterity is hardly neglected. It is one of her secondary attributes, receives a respectable contribution from her racial growth, and she is currently level sixty-six.

Only one level beneath me.

Sera keeping pace this well despite still being Tier One says quite a bit about the direction of her build.

Speed and magic, then.

With enough physical investment to remain dangerous at spear range.

Excellent.

After all…

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Experienced Spear Warrior [Uncommon] (Level 49 | Tier 1)

Race: Catkin

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One level.

That is all she needs.

One more level, and she becomes eligible for her Tier Two advancement.

…

Which means I absolutely cannot allow her to gain it yet.

My ears perk slightly.

Two weeks, at minimum. Possibly longer.

Sera survived a dungeon alone for nearly a week, killed a Tier Two boss while still Tier One, raised Wood Manipulation all the way to Epic, and returned with enough practical combat experience to make several perfectly respectable guards feel inadequate.

That is already an excellent foundation.

It would be wasteful not to exploit it properly.

Avelyn is living proof that focused training under stronger and more experienced combatants can meaningfully improve an advancement. She managed to secure a Rare class at Tier One, and her progression since then has only become more absurd.

Sera is sitting directly on the edge of the same opportunity.

And unlike Avelyn, she is a melee specialist.

A spear fighter.

Someone who depends on timing, footwork, positioning, reading opponents, exploiting openings, and remaining functional when something very dangerous is attempting to remove her head.

Hm.

Who could possibly train someone like that?

Someone fast.

Someone highly skilled in melee.

Someone with an exceptional understanding of combat.

Someone capable of presenting an almost unreasonable variety of threats.

Someone beautiful.

Someone brilliant.

Someone utterly magnificent.

I consider the available candidates.

…

Me.

Obviously.

My tail gives a haughty flick.

Sera may currently be one level away from Tier Two.

That tier upgrade is going to have to wait.