The interior of The Longneck, as was customary for locals to nickname it, was something else. I'd describe it in detail but I think that the awe-struck outworlder said enough:

  "Hemp fishing nets on one wall, the mounted head of a buck deer over there, various trinkets dangling from the ceiling, a wagon wheel on a wood pillar, a ship's helm behind the bar, a whole section of wall with caricatures of people drawn on it, the horns of some kinda monster above the liquor shelf, barely an inch of the place not decorated with some piece of junk or other, saucy-lookin barmaids serving beer, guys playing cards, live music, and the distinct aroma of cooked meat…I love this place already!"

  Once we'd sat down I ordered us a couple of ales. I gulped mine down in an instant and slammed my mug down.

  "Pyaaah, that hit the spot,"

  Victor sipped his testingly at first, then he swallowed the rest in one go. "Not bad," he said, "it's like somewhere between a brown ale and a red ale."

  "This stuff's imported from one of the kingdoms on the border - last I checked it was called Hylaria but human borders change all the time."

  He nodded, "yeah we had this educational tv show - excuse me - this educational stage production broadcast to the masses by um," he scratched his cheek.

  "It's all right, you don't gotta overexplain, sis told me that the world you came from has some wild technology in it."

  He nodded, "right, the point was that when I was a little kid there was some serious upheaval going on across the ocean from me and it was happening so fast that the lyrics of the theme song had to be changed; they even needed to start warning people that the information presented was only accurate for the day it was first recorded."

  I slapped my knee, laughing, turned to the bar and shouted, "hey, two Oldbeard's Darkbrew, and some Longneck skewers." Grinning I turned back to Victor, "I guess our worlds ain't much different in that regard; can't change human, or elven, nature for that matter."

  "War, war never changes," he said. Wait, why is he chuckling after saying something profound like that? Come to think of it, sis mentioned he had a habit of doing this - speaking like he was quoting a play or song lyrics, then laughing or trying not to with a goofy smile.

  Tch. They really did get along pretty well, for her to have learned his quirks so quickly. Oh right. This ain't the first time he mentioned warfare. I had a burning question.

  "Back at the council you said something, and tonight you said the same thing," I paused, "all warfare is based on deception. You also said something about being a squad leader. Were you a soldier once?"

  Shockingly, he nodded, "yeah. I was part of the best damn military force in my world or in any other world - the Army of the United States of America. I only held the rank of specialist, which basically means I would be a corporal forever had I stayed longer than my four year term." he laughed, "man, I'm gonna be in deep shit if they call my reserve number, but only on paper given my circumstances."

  "Did you fight in many battles?"

  "Not a one. My job was to maintain our war machines so I didn't actually see combat. The first time I ever killed a man was the night I came here."

  I knew what he meant by that. Yeah. There I was balls deep in one of the palace maids, a beastfolk with cat ears, when I heard about what happened. Of course I stopped what I was doing, did my best to clean up, threw some clothes on, and went looking for her.

  All I'd heard was that she had shown up all of a sudden and reported surviving an assassination attempt. At first I thought she'd be covered in wounds and have sticks in her hair and stuff, but she was just as well as ever when she gave me one of her high speed tackle hugs.

  Oh I cried, I cried hard, I'd almost lost her after all, how I squeezed her, and asked all kinds of questions in rapid succession. She scolded me for reeking like a tart's handkerchief, but then she told me everything that had happened. I knew I had to meet the man who saved her, to thank him myself. But I ain't so good with words, y'know.

  My mood completely changed when I heard the exact method of attack the stranger had used - I thought it was hilarious and I started laughing - ow, cut it out, sis! Okay fine, it had to have been a traumatic experience for her but I imagined the look on the faces of those bastards as a big metal thing came out of the sky just before it flattened them.

  She spent the rest of the night talking about Victor and the Ca-dil-lac, on and on, gods that girl could talk, but she's my baby sister so I had to indulge her. Still. I found the guy intriguing.

  I didn't have to wait long in order to meet him in person: the very next day in fact. The war council Hanzorian had called. I could tell he was sizing me up, and I could also tell he was impressed.

  Sis introduced us of course, and she slapped a comprehension on me - reminding me again that he came from another world and didn't know common yet.

  Huh? You taught him a little common? Is that where you've been all day - well, she's got that adventurer's spunk like I do so it can't be helped if she wanted to risk her life going out the very day after she'd just escaped the very jaws of death.

  "Bo," he said, then switched to his native tongue, "forgive me your highness, I only know a few words and important phrases,"

  "Huh," such as?

  Then he proceeded to say three words that put a smile on my face: "an üisge, apri". One whiskey, please.

  "Ha!" So I burst out in the middle of the council chambers, what of it? "I like this guy already! Where didja find him again?"

  "I already told you!" she said, visibly irritated.

  Calm down, it's just a figure of speech. So, this was the man who saved my sister's life. What sort of fellow was he, I wondered? I could tell he wasn't some weakling; yeah even with his coat on I could tell there was a fair amount of muscle on him.

  I see my old man trusted him to carry a weapon here, too, he had some kind of knife on his belt. His eyes kept wandering to the hilts of my swords. Ah. I had to show off. Sis started and stood back, apologizing, as I drew the one on my right hip.

  "Here," I said, "you wanted to look at it, right?"

  He nodded, smiling, "a fine weapon, cool lookin' too. Do you guys name your swords here?"

  "Yeah," I cleared my throat, "this one's called Ghuldagyr, roughly translated, ghoul destroyer or zombie slayer - ghul is any sort of undead that ain't a vampire or a lich. The other one," I sheathed Ghuldagyr and whipped out, "Orkskyr, orc slayer. I guess it was crafted by my great uncle back during some primordial war or other."

  Victor stroked his chin, "ah, so there's orcs in this world, I see"

  Hm. Sis told me that he'd mentioned there's no dwarves, elves, dragons, or even magic in his world. But he knew what an orc was. They explained then and there that things like that, orcs included, were written about as myths and as fictional tales.

  Victor started rambling on about patterns existing in multiple words getting all thoughtful, and that's when the meeting started. Well to move things along, he went to save those kids and came back. Then a couple days passed and here we were about to - yes!!! Here comes the beer!

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Sweet Molly, a gorgeous human with red hair and freckles, brought us two large tankards of a deep dark ale. There was a loud clank and the foam wobbled. I knew the meat would come soon enough but for now…

  "So," said Victor, "tell me about this ale."

  "This, is Darkbrew from the Oldbeard brewery; simply put, it's dwarven ale."

  He cocked an eyebrow, "I thought elves didn't like dwarven stuff."

  "Nah not normally, I'm kind of weird that way. Comes with the territory of being an adventurer. It's much stronger than human ale, both in terms of flavor and in how fast it gets you shitfaced."

  "So a higher ABV," he smelled it, tasted it, and then took a bigger gulp, "wowza! Yeah you weren't kidding. That is a strong flavor. Might take some getting used to. Most beer kinda tastes a bit like bread, but this is like a thick molassessy pumpernickel; there's some kind of spice in it too.

  I have to wonder what they use for the malt, and how they managed to increase the alcohol by volume so high since yeast tends to die past a certain point. I actually like it more than Guinness, which has a similar color."

  Ghin-whattum? Ah must be a brew native to his world, "ya seem to know a fair bit about beer, and I'm talking more than just in terms of taste."

  "Oh yeah," he smiled, draining maybe a quarter of his mug, "in America we have a pretty solid home brewing tradition. Which is to say some of us have a hobby of brewing our own beer."

  "Is that so," I marveled, must be a peaceful land to allow people the kind of leisure time required to make beer at home.

  He nodded, "as it happens, I had brought twelve of them with me. I was on my way to meet an army buddy of mine and pick his brain about the flavor while we went on our hunting tr-"

  "Hunting? Ha! I should have known you were a hunter, too! Then let us go on the hunt together some time, you and I!"

  "I'll drink to that," he said, we clinked our glasses and finished off our dwarven ales.

  I called to the barkeep, one of Greasy's underlings, "hey when our food comes, could ya bring us a couple of whiskeys? The good stuff from down south, all right? All right so where were we?"

  "Reckon we were talking about booze," he said, "and in that vein I've gotta ask - what exactly is your whiskey made out of?"

  "Distilled grain alcohol," I said.

  "Obviously, but which grains?"

  "Oh," boy I felt dumb, I had to think about it, "barley I think, same as the beer. For the most part anyway. Wheat and rye are abundant in these lands too so I guess they'd use 'em.

  The Udunk mountain men use potatoes but they drink that shit straight without aging it, and the Dragon Sea folk use a mix of barley and rice - er that is -"

  He nodded, "we have rice in my old world, too. I wonder just how many worlds are there? Maybe this is more like an alternate universe operating on the same basic template."

  I shrugged, "I've got too much of a reptile brain for that one." I clapped, "ah-ha! It's here."

  Two glasses full of dark brown liquid, and two plates of steaming hot meat on a stick were laid out before us. There wasn't much in the way of seasoning; just plain old salt and pepper with a sprinkle of mixed herbs.

  Victor took his glass, examined the liquor, smelled it, then took a sip. "This," he said, pausing, "this is bourbon! Well, or something similar!"

  I didn't know that word, must have been a proper name if my sister's spell didn't translate it for me.

  Sensing my confusion he said, "this is almost unmistakably a spirit derived from corn and aged in an oak barrel. I mean, I'm more of a Scotch guy but - having access to corn means being able to make cornbread!"

  I nodded, "i see, I see. I've travelled across all of these lands and beyond. But as to what corn is -"

  "It's also called maize," he said.

  That word. Ah. When he said corn it came through translated as grain or particle, but when he said that new word, it translated to something I'd heard of. Damn that pedantic comprehension spell.

  "Let me guess, corn is another - er - idiom."

  Victor sighed, "and let me guess, maize rang a bell?"

  I nodded, "I'll show ya on a map some time but, beyond the Southern Cross mountain range there's a vast open plain where that stuff grows; I'd only ever had em roasted and covered in animal fat. Huh. I had no idea you could make alcohol from those.

  But I guess someone in one of the cities down there must have figured it out. So they import it to Cara's port town of Port d'Azune, then that comes by wagon, to here."

  "Yeah I'll bet you're eating the import costs. It's probably cheaper in its country of origin."

  "Yes, but the quality is so good that I don't mind having a glass of it on special occasions and the like. It ain't like that glorified bathwater they call whiskey at my brother's wine club."

  "It's most superb," said Victor, "and this meat is positively divine! What is this anyway, beef?"

  Huh? "No, it's loin meat from a longneck. A primal beast."

  He stroked his chin, "a primal beast. Now that you mentioned it, the princess did mention long-necked primal beasts involved in construction."

  "Yes, they're called longnecks, and when they're too old to work anymore, they get butchered for their meat. Heck, I'm pretty sure they send the prime rib up to the Platinum Flagon where you're staying," I pointed to the wall, "look, there's a painting of one right over there."

  When he turned his head, his eyes popped out of his head, and his jaw dropped. "I just ate dinosaur…no wait, I ate dinosaur twice didn't I?"

  "Good grief, just where do you think the name Greasy's Longneck came from anyway?"

  "I thought they were being ironic because he doesn't have a neck to speak of," he shrugged, said, "oh well," and started wolfing down another skewer.

  I couldn't help but laugh. After we got done eating, Victor suggested we head back to the Flagon. He wanted me to try a couple things from his world. We headed over but not before grabbing what he called a "roady".

  There was a fairly decent brown beer that he himself had made, and then a tall bottle of something else. He called it Scotch, said that it was from the highlands on some island nation in his world.

  "This is the kind of thing that I," he pointed to himself, emphasizing the I, "bring out for special occasions. Let's have a wee dram, as the Scots say, to new friends."

  I nodded. We toasted, and drained our glasses. Then we went out doing something he called bar-hopping, and by the end of it we could barely walk. He was wobbling pretty hard there, and I think only the mass of my armor was keeping me on my feet.

  "Hahaha, by the way what was that you was whistling when those thugs ran by you?"

  "It's called Dixie."

  "Ah."

  "Ya know Val, I noticed somethin'. You and the princess talk different from the other elves I've met. You seem more informal, more relaxed."

  I laughed, "my elders have been bitching about that for years. The younger generation, not just me and sis, interact with humans a lot more than they did at our age so we pick up their habits."

  "Ha. Boomers, what do they know."

  I assumed that he wasn't calling my uncle Fioril and the older divine generals "dwarvish demolition experts", so I just assumed it was an idiom and that he got what I meant. Man, I sure had fun today.

  If I had one key takeaway from the past couple of days it's that I could trust Victor, that he'd have my back on the field of battle. That I could trust him to protect Illiana with his very life. When you got right down to it, he was the sort of guy I wouldn't mind having as a brother.

  I had a hunch my sister was smitten with the guy, one of those "she has a crush and doesn't realize it" kind of banalities you find in trashy comical plays. Suppose that it actually went somewhere, and our households were joined?

  "Yeah," I decided, internally, "that'd be kind of nice, you know."

  A cry came from somewhere, "big brother! Sir Victor! Where the hells have you been?"

  There was my cute baby sister, glaring daggers at me.

  Victor chuckled, "You know what this means, right?"

  "Yeah," I said.

  After a deep breath we both said: "We're in trouble."