Voj’Kasak came in while I was peeling potatoes, and Loogie rolled around on the cloth beside my elbow, content to amuse itself. The old fart hobbled up and took a crack at my knee with his cane. I dropped the potato and swung a hand down to catch it, tugging it upward. I shot him a tusky grin—then remembered what I had to ask him.

  Alga brought him a bowl of the usual. I hadn’t really thought about how I’d ask him to help me out until that moment. What the hell was I supposed to say?

  “Old Fang,” I asked, going back to my peeling, but slower than before, trying to sound casual. “You’re like my family. Yeah?”

  Orcish had become as familiar as English, Moreso, sometimes. I didn’t question it or try to translate it in my head to English anymore. I even thought in Orcish when the words fit better than English did. Like when I was mad or surprised.

  His crinkled gaze lifted from his bowl. “Why?”

  Ugh. I finished peeling the potato in my hand. No cuts! Progress. I’d check my stats later to see what changed. But first, this conversation. I shifted on my stool to face him, hand braced on my thigh.

  “Well, I, um… Do you know Shardshore?”

  “Heard of it,” he replied, dipping a spoon into the gravy and slopping food into his maw.

  “I—I guess I’m engaged to Queen Hythsaa of Shardshore,” I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck.

  Chunks of potato and gravy spewed out across the bar.

  I winced. I stumbled to explain, “It was an accident.”

  “Rau’dajal!” Old Fang coughed, slamming his chest with a fist.

  Alga drifted over, then tossed a rag at Old Fang. He caught it and wiped off his face, and she scowled, hands coming to rest on her hips. She pointed at the bar with her chin, brow raised. Old Fang swept up the mess while glaring at me, as if it was my fault.

  Eh. I guess it was.

  “You’re engaged? To the district lord?” Alga asked, eyeing me like I’d transformed into an elf, her lip curled as if she thought it was insane. She wasn’t wrong.

  “Got you some lizard tail, eh?” Old Fang smirked.

  Was it wrong to want to punch your adopted grandpa?

  I scowled briefly, then snapped, “Look, I didn’t mean for it to happen. I need you to go with me to Shardshore and tell her I’m not allowed to get married.”

  “Who says you’re not?” Old Fang growled.

  He wasn’t getting the point. I thrust my fingers through my hair and sighed, then tried again. “I don’t want to marry her. It’s not in my plan.”

  “Pfft,” Voj’Kasak replied. “She’s no orc, but the strongest of her clan. Why would you turn that down?”

  I’d never told them my plans. Mostly in case I failed. I didn’t want them to hope they could go home, and then I blew all my lives at the Gateway, and the plan got smashed to pieces. I’d be whiteroomed, and they’d be… well, here. Which wasn’t the worst, I guess.

  And then there was the fact that I didn’t want to marry some chick with a tail. Beyond the occasional awkwardness I encountered with my new body, I didn’t know where I stood with the idea of romance anymore—with anyone. I’d never really been big on relationships when I was a human woman, and I didn’t expect that to change as a digital half-orc male. My status as a loner was comfortable, predictable, and reliable.

  I’d never expected all these ties. Never wanted them. Had ‘em, all the same.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  I put down my knife to tickle Loogie. It giggled a barely audible bubbling chirp, then curled around my finger, kicking with all its little limbs. The one simple, pure thing in my life.

  My answer had to make sense to him and Alga, who was idly stirring the pot over the kiln stove. I flicked a rueful glance between them and shifted on my seat. What a tangled web I wove. Never thought of myself as a liar; I’d always been an open book, but this place, my choices, they’d changed me.

  “I have to be strong without leaning on a powerful wife,” I said. That was the truth, as far as I cared to share it.

  “Bah,” Old Fang scoffed, shoveling his food again. “When I was an undeveloped child like you, I’d have killed my brothers for the chance at someone as great. How did you catch her?”

  “Well, I’m still not sure, but she proposed after I’d fought with a common enemy. Helped them catch it,” I said, pulling my sleeve up to show one of my newest scars. “She liked my scars, too, I guess.”

  “Best kind of proposal, blood in the air, heat in the chest,” he replied. He squinted at the scar and nodded approvingly.

  The flesh was twisted, puckered into a thick line across my forearm. I could still feel it tug when I moved, new muscles and skin getting used to each other. It’d loosen up soon enough. Magetech medicine and Druid healing. Good stuff. Five stars.

  “Just marry her,” Old Fang said, and slopped more food in his stew hole. Then he paused, his spoon halfway to his mouth and eyed me, gaze dropping to my thighs. “Or are you shy? That it? Don’t have what it takes?”

  I bared my teeth, irritation rising. “What I have is fine. I don’t even know if we’re physically compatible. I need you to tell her no, Old Fang. I can’t be bound to a district. I won’t be.”

  “Give me a reason,” Old Fang growled.

  “Tan’Fukshan’s claws,” I mumbled, then shot a look at Alga. “Alga? Can you help me?”

  “Such a whiny child,” Alga muttered, waving a giant ladle at me while still gazing into the stewpot. “Be grateful a female wants you!”

  “I can’t believe this,” I huffed, crossing my arms. I snapped up my knife, grabbed the last few potatoes, and finished peeling them, tossing them into the pot hard enough to make it skid along the bar. With much more care, I scooped Loogie into my palms and got up, giving them a hard look. I turned on my heel and moved toward the door.

  “Child,” Alga said.

  “What?” I barked, turning to look at them.

  Alga bent and pulled a basket out from under the bar. “This came for you, from Baruk.”

  Baruk? I hit a mental lag until I remembered—the slick carapace plates! I went back and shifted Loogie to my shoulder so I could open the box.

  Inside was a full armor set.

  Fuck. Yes.

  “Tan’skaama,” I breathed, pulling it out, piece by piece. It was smooth, light–colored like granite, but with a depth that went beyond the thin layer of polished carapace, bolted together with some kind of alloy I’d never seen before. As I scanned it, my HUD readings confirmed a boost to my Dodge and AC. I couldn't wait to see what would happen when I applied a blue slime core to it. It'd been looking for a reason to try the enhancements it promised, but nothing I'd bought was quite impressive enough to bother with the 'enchantment.'

  I looked up to see Old Fang and Alga smiling at me. It felt like fucking Christmas. Without the social cringe of getting hugged and kissed by people I only saw once a year.

  Old Fang chuckled, raspy in his frail chest. “You may walk like you don’t belong to anyone, half-blood, but it seems like you could. Think about what she’ll do when she sees you in that.”

  Looking hot in armor shouldn’t have been a bad thing. It was. So many expectations, so many eyes.

  I gathered up the pieces—chestplate, greaves, and bracers, and carried them into the back and up the stairs to the bunk room. Empty, as usual. That one orc player I'd seen briefly had vanished. Maybe he went to Lacunae, maybe to the Arena. Could have gotten himself killed five times already, for all I knew. But that meant the bunk room was all mine.

  The armor pieces were laid out on the bed, stacked so they were touching. I hoped that one slime core would enhance all five pieces as if they were one, if they were all touching. There wer no tutorials for using a component. It seemed like the System was designed to promote guesswork, trial, and error. I pulled a slime core out of my inventory It floated above my palm, radiating a cool sensation from its flickering blue light. I lowered it to my armor set.

  My aspect screen popped up, floating at half an arm's length from me with a question.

  [Blue Slime Core detected. Choose Enhancement type: Infuse or Assimilate.]

  What the magecore crap is this? I opened another window to search the definitions. I found it buried in a pivot table of additions and enhancements. Infuse was quick and dirty, much like a weapon or armor enchant that could be overwritten by other enhancement infusions with little trouble. Assimilate meant the item gained less power, but scaled with use. Ugh. I wished Akilah was with me, or Jake. They'd probably have good advice.

  I went with Infuse.

  The carapace armor, already dark gray and smooth as glass, flashed blue and seemed to gain a layer of slickness to it. I ran my fingers over a bracer. It was cooler than it had been, and slippery. Like someone spilled gel of some kind on it. Rubbing my fingers together, they felt dry, so whatever it was clung to the armor but not anything that touched it. Weird. Interesting. Kinda gross. Why did I always get the weird stuff?

  Oh, well. I had ghosts—and some friends—to impress with that set.

  -ARCHIVE-