In the end, Commander Wolfy—it was weird and obvious enough to stick—mostly just wanted to check to see if she was capable of being polite and interacting with people at political events. As if she hadn’t been doing just that all day.

  That or he just wanted to see if his wolves liked her. Dogs—wolves, same thing—were fine. Ranthia plainly preferred cats, not that she had any intention of doing a companion bond with even them, but dogs were fine. She was willing to pet the monochrome wolves and let them sniff her. She would have even been fine with slipping them a bit of food if the Commander hadn’t been graphically clear about them erupting from both ends if they ate basically anything that was on offer at the party.

  She successfully completed her role at the party without incident and, at long last, retired to her room in the secret underground section for Sentinels. Sleep’s siren call beckoned.

  The next day, Ranthia was finally allowed to leave Ranger Headquarters. A message waiting in a box outside her room invited her to lunch with her former Ranger Team 6 teammates—well, the six that still lived, Abillo’s death was a bleak note that she couldn’t quite forget—but she otherwise had her day free. While she hadn’t completely come to terms with Vert’s fate, she at least had worked through her emotions enough to blame herself a little less. Ultimately, she never wanted to become the sort of person that would rather let a crowd of people die just because of what they might (and might not have) become in the future—Green’s advice was always solid.

  If only she could forgive herself for encouraging Vert to become a Ranger. In some ways she’d been cursedly right. Vert’s heart was in the right place. She truly did her best to do good for the people of Remus. But Ranthia would have traded a lot to see her disciple live. It felt like a failing, like there was some piece of advice that she should have given the young woman that would have spared her. But Ranthia was no stranger to carrying on through guilt and she knew that the pain would, eventually, fade enough to set it aside most days.

  Dark thoughts aside, being back in Ariminum for the first time in six years was just weird. So much was the same, yet so much had changed. The shop she had bought her Adventurer’s armor from was just gone. The space was occupied by a shop that sold cured meats stuck between two thin slices of bread. That had to be a weird fad that would never catch on. Why would anyone want two bland slices of bread hiding their food instead of a nice chunk of bread smothered in meat and other ingredients?

  Worse, everything had become so slow. Ranthia quickly became annoyed at how carefully she had to move about. Even the courier lane through the streets was rife with slow-moving obstacles. Being over thrice the level of most people she saw—often closer to six times their level—was uncomfortably bizarre.

  At least on the flip side, her paranoia was much easier to manage. Only a relative handful of people in Ariminum were past their level 128 class up in their first class—there were even a few actual adults (her standards, not Remus’ eternally creepy standards) that somehow hadn’t acquired their second class yet. No one posed a real risk. Even if there was a shimagu parasite in the civilians and rare classers that she saw, they couldn’t truly threaten her.

  It was strange that the same thing that frustrated her could, simultaneously, make her feel at ease. But minds were weird, and she was slowly getting used to such nonsense.

  Ranthia wandered through sights strange and familiar until she found herself at a very familiar location. Ariminum’s Adventurers Guild branch had a bit more decorative flourish—was the mural of swords surrounding the door really necessary?—but it was undeniably the same building.

  It was kind of a relief to see that the Guildmaster was still the same man. The receptionist—a stranger—tried to gently turn Ranthia away, but one of his assistants recognized her and practically tripped over his own feet taking over. Soon enough, she was ushered upstairs and seated in the Guildmaster’s office.

  The Guildmaster had aged since Ranthia last saw him, but he was genuinely thrilled to see her and was openly proud that one of ‘his’ Adventurers had become a full-fledged Sentinel. The conversation continued for a while, though Ranthia was strongly suspecting that he was mostly just trying to coax her into serving some part in one of his political machinations. Still, it was kind of nice to talk to someone from her past for a while, until she had to excuse herself.

  It was time for lunch.

  Green hugged Ranthia for an uncomfortably long time, then grabbed her shoulders while she inspected Ranthia carefully for entirely too long. Worse, Green’s frown increased the longer she stared.

  “You aren’t aging.” The woman decided.

  Six out of the seven of them—Tertia still absent—were gathered for lunch, just like what they used to do for breakfast. Plates of boldly seasoned grilled vegetables were laid out for them. The aroma was delightful, but Green had intercepted Ranthia before she could sit down. A small piece of Ranthia couldn’t help but to be distracted by yearning for the familiar food.

  “Oof, yeah guess I have to start with the heavy stuff.” Ranthia grumbled as she mentally bade the food a temporary farewell.

  She took a deep breath to center herself while everyone gave her their full attention.

  “Turns out my original body wasn’t all that important. I’m supposed to keep this quiet, but I trust you all. Just… don’t spread it around. The last time I had updated my personal image was on my 24th birthday, back when I was with you all. So, when my true body… broke, I ended up looking like this again. It turns out I’m immortal?” The last part was said very quietly.

  Ranthia felt self-conscious as she explained. How would they react?

  Pyra, Lysia, and Art each said some variant of Pyra’s words: “So, all that worrying when you got torn up was for nothing?”

  “Green wasted her money then?” Was Juvenae’s take.

  None of these were the reactions Ranthia expected, but Juvenae’s words broke Ranthia’s brain for a moment. She had, quite literally, never even thought about what her treatment must have cost when she was nearly killed by the ornithocheirus flock. Green must have paid a fortune, [Healers] of that caliber charged quite a bit!

  “Oh Xaoc, Green, I am so sorry! I’ll p—” Ranthia started to promise.

  Green promptly smacked her across the top of the head with a vine. The older woman used enough force to crack the air, though the other women winced far more than Ranthia did. Green seemed to have a knack for just how much force to apply to deliver the perfect smack, no matter how high Ranthia’s vitality climbed.

  “Oh hush, don’t you even start. Money has never been a concern for me, and we had no way to know back then. If I see a single coin from you, I’ll beat you with it. That’s a promise.” Green replied with a playful—or possibly menacing—grin.

  She then gestured for Ranthia to sit, and they finally began to eat a tasty lunch. Ranthia had just enough sense left to not try to argue with her former leader.

  “So, you’ve been cursed, I assume?” Green asked in a gentle voice.

  Ranthia nearly choked on the mouthful of food she was about to start chewing. She had to pound her chest to get it down, before she drank half the watered-down wine in her mug to clear her throat.

  “You know about immortals?!” Ranthia finally managed to wheeze.

  “That wasn’t a dumb joke?!” Lysia demanded, far more loudly.

  Green shushed Lysia while Ranthia cringed.

  The Garden was never empty. Green had, if anything, picked up even more girls since Ranthia had last visited. One of them, a kid that was only about 20—oh gods, an eternity was going to make her worse than ever on how she defined adults—was plainly trying to eavesdrop. And Night had been very clear that her immortality was to be a carefully guarded secret. He had even hidden it from her fellow Sentinels!

  “Yes. I got lucky, I can adapt.” Ranthia explained swiftly, she didn’t want to linger on the topic.

  Green gave her a meaningful look but, finally, nodded.

  For want of a safer topic, Ranthia regaled her old comrades with her tale while they ate. She was a bit worried about the dark look on Green’s face while she covered how the Legions had abandoned them behind enemy lines, but the woman remained seated and silent. The story continued. Ranthia didn’t bother to sugarcoat anything, they were all Rangers. …Well, technically one was an ex-Ranger, and she was a Sentinel—but the sentiment was still the same. Despite the fact that Lysia and Pyra still felt so similar to how they were when Ranthia just met them, each and every one of them knew horrors. They could deal with Ranthia describing how she was forced to salvage what she could. The losses. Her desperate struggles to survive.

  At some point the eavesdropper moved on.

  By the time Ranthia finished her story, lunch was done. At a request from Green, fruit preserved in honey was served for dessert. Ranthia—never Pallos’ largest fan of sweets—politely worked to slowly eat a few slices and most of the others mirrored her with varying enthusiasm. Most. Lysia was packing them away like a woman on a mission, despite being half of Ranthia’s size by volume.

  Green finally bopped Lysia with a vine and chided her.

  “Don’t make yourself sick. You’re a grown woman.”

  Lysia stuck her tongue out cheekily, but she slowed down her rate of consumption. A little.

  Conversation drifted away from the topic of Ranthia, as the others shared their own shorter—and less dramatic—tales. Lysia managed to stop a large charging dinosaur cold just by being an “unmovable force.” Pyra and Juvenae had worked out a combination attack that was more powerful than any of their Skills were individually. Art—sure enough—had finally become confident enough to refuse to cower before their father and embraced that they weren’t a man or a woman; they wanted to establish an identity that was their own, free of assumptions (Ranthia was proud of her friend, but it made her feel even worse about her initial concerns that she confronted Art over… eight years ago).

  “Okay, I have to ask. Every Ranger Convocation I’ve seen, you two have ended up on the same team. How are you pulling that off?” Ranthia finally asked Pyra and Juvenae, after Pyra finished gushing about their ‘new’ (three years old) combo attack.

  “Surprised you never noticed.” Juvenae replied, dryly.

  She and Pyra, in perfect unison, held up their left hands. …With matching gold rings on their fingers.

  “I… wha… but… WHAT?!” Ranthia sputtered as her mind shattered.

  Pyra about doubled over laughing while Juvenae snickered at Ranthia’s expense.

  “Oh gods, that was perfect! Your faaaaace!” Pyra managed to get out between peals of laughter.

  Even Art and Lysia were chuckling. Green’s face was unamused, though Ranthia knew the woman well enough to recognize that her eyes shined with mirth.

  “How did you never notice Pyra and I wore these?” Juvenae asked.

  “Wait, are you saying you’ve always been married!? No way!” Ranthia was still quite broken.

  “Yup, we wed shortly before we even entered the Ranger Academy together. Wow, we had someone this unobservant as our scout?” Juvenae seemed to be having fun.

  “You’re just messing with me, right?” Ranthia hoped.

  Pyra finally recovered enough to join in on the conversation, and her good nature finally managed to edge out how much she was enjoying the hilarity.

  “Actually, we really are married. It’s how we keep together, we did it after we confirmed that there was no other way to always get on the same team. The Rangers didn’t exactly have a deep tradition about it, but there’d been a few married couples throughout time that served together.”

  “Neither of us is the settle down and have a family type. I mean, you know my interests. The ring helps with men who convince themselves they can keep me after we have sex. As for Pyra…” Juvenae trailed off awkwardly.

  “I love everyone equally. Like I feel just as strongly about you as I do my parents or Juvenae or Green or the baker I always buy bread from. I don’t really understand how people can fall in love and love someone more than anyone else. It doesn’t make sense to me. As for sex… I mean, I like it well enough I guess, it can be fun. But I’ll only feel any interest in having it like once, maybe twice a season at most. Sometimes I go ages with no interest whatsoever. I can have sex with just about anyone when I’m in the mood. I’ve even done it with Juvenae a couple of times, but when she’s not with a guy she has a lot of trouble g—”

  A red-faced Juvenae had clapped her hand over Pyra’s mouth.

  “Stop oversharing!” The woman begged her best friend.

  “Sorry! I also kind of struggle with the idea of boundaries, I guess? Sex aside, I’m a really physical person so it’s easy to be affectionate with Juvenae when we need to sell our marriage. I really enjoy holding hands and kissing and stuff.” Pyra continued, once Juvenae released her.

  “Really, you don’t think kissing is too intimate without romantic love?” Ranthia’s curiosity got the better of her. She had never actually shared a kiss with any of the prostitutes or casual encounters she had enjoyed. In a lot of ways, the kisses that she’d shared with Avyna were the most ‘casual’ kisses she had experienced.

  Pyra shrugged, then leaned forward and, when Ranthia didn’t object, planted a kiss right on Ranthia’s lips. Though when she tried to make the kiss deeper, a red-faced Ranthia pulled away.

  Memories of her crushes on all of the women of Ranger Team 6 still haunted Ranthia, and she was desperately trying to pull her mind out of those memories after that kiss!

  “Sorry, just wanted to show you. I meant what I said, I love everyone equally. Kissing just feels nice, like holding hands or hugging.” Pyra muttered, her face plainly showed her worry that Ranthia would be repulsed.

  “It’s okay, I was just a bit surprised. Oh, I forgot to even ask, what about Tertia?” Ranthia asked. Anything to change the topic, before her face caught on fire!

  “Yeah, I love her too, of course!” Pyra answered.

  Juvenae affectionately bopped Pyra gently on the head.

  “She had a prior engagement for lunch. She wanted us to tell you that she invited you over for dinner with her and her wife though. All I told her was that you turned out to be alive and are back in town.” Juvenae answered.

  Ranthia’s brain broke again.

  “She married another woman!? She never told me that she was…!” Ranthia protested.

  “You were always kind of weird with us about relationship stuff, because of your ex. Don’t blame us for you not asking and wandering off when we talked about this stuff! And I don’t think she was quite like you where she only wants women, I think that was just the best marriage offer she got when she put herself on the market. She’s a bit more mercenary, y’know.” Lysia chimed in.

  “Ugh, you’re right. I had weird intimacy issues for a long while. Then when I got over them, I developed crushes on every one of you except Art and…” Ranthia realized that her mouth had gone completely renegade and shut up and stuffed several pieces of oversweet fruit into her mouth while she blushed furiously.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not at all offended!” Art offered with a chuckle.

  Lysia and Pyra eagerly and mercilessly teased her for a while, with even Juvenae getting a few barbs in. Ranthia just got redder and redder until she tried to free herself with a topic shift.

  “Oh, by the way, speaking of relationships! Green, these are for you. They’re seeds for a fruit tree called a pear tree. I don’t know if they’ll grow here in Remus, but I figured if anyone can pull it off, it’s you.” Ranthia fished the small bag out of her pouch and offered it to the older woman.

  She had wanted to share the pears themselves with her friends, but they wouldn’t have lasted long enough. She had no way to preserve them.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  That was her excuse, and she was sticking to it.

  “Thank you, I look forward to the challenge.” Green smiled.

  “How is a pouch of seeds speaking of relationships?” Lysia needled.

  “Um, I kind of maybe might have a girlfriend in a year. I met someone in Coalition City. She was the source of the seeds.” Ranthia smiled.

  “Oooh, dish!” Lysia encouraged.

  “She’s a [Merchant], she ran a fruit stall I visited often. The day I was going to return to Remus she finally kissed me and told me that I was dense. Apparently, I had been missing a lot of subtle hints she gave me, hoping I’d try to court her. Guess she kind of lost patience. She said she’d put in to get transferred to whatever base I end up at when I go back to the front lines next year.” Ranthia enthusiastically explained.

  “You’re going back?” Green asked, her voice had an odd intensity to it, somewhere between frosty and surprised.

  “Screw serious talk, I want to hear more about her! Is she pretty? What part of Remus is she from?” Lysia insisted.

  Ranthia nodded to Green, before she allowed herself a sappy smile as she vividly recalled Avyna’s almost indescribably perfect appearance.

  “She’s very pretty. Her name is Avyna. She has a daughter that I don’t know very well yet. Avyna has blonde hair and vibrant green eyes. Long hair too, it’s so silky! Her horns curl back and encircle her cute, pointy ears. Oh! Yeah, she’s an elf, so she’s not from Remus.”

  Pyra looked excited and happy. Juvenae smiled. Art and Green seemed happy for her.

  Lysia, on the other hand, wrinkled her nose and made a face.

  “Oh ew!” The tiny woman vocalized.

  “What?!” Ranthia… had no idea how to handle that reaction.

  “How can you date something that’s not even human?! That’s just so gross, you might as well be hooking up with a dinosaur!” Lysia followed her words up with an exaggerated retching noise.

  The rest of the lunch went… less well. Ranthia took massive offense to Lysia’s comments—Lysia was her friend, but Avyna had already worked herself into Ranthia’s heart. Also, the idea of being biased against elves—or dwarves or any other species—was incredibly repellent to her. She owed her life to Rigira, had befriended other dwarves, and she was smitten with Avyna. Ranthia had started with an angry lecture about how elves and humans had a lot in common and that if two people can truly communicate with anyone, there’s always the potential for love—especially with attraction in play. Then when the argument continued as Lysia made more childish remarks, Ranthia—admittedly, in hindsight—maybe became a touch petty. …She called Shelly—Lysia’s massive shield that was somehow still in one piece—stupid.

  Green ended up separating them shortly after that.

  In the end they parted ways without apologizing to one another, despite Green’s best efforts. Green plainly wanted to speak to Ranthia further, but she was done and made an excuse before she made her own exit. She needed to cool off.

  Ranthia still had an afternoon to kill and had lost all interest in social niceties. Instead, she visited the main temple to confirm that her backpay and Sentinel pay were being delivered to her vault properly to take out her irritability on bureaucracy. …Naturally, they deprived her of the outlet. Night or Ocean or someone had already gotten everything taken care of, and the temple staff basically bent over backwards to be as helpful as possible to the Sentinel.

  After that, she decided that she could use more tranquility and needed to release some of her anger. Ariminum was still sorely lacking in spots where cats gathered—no matter how desperately she missed petting fluff—so she decided to immerse herself in piety. She wandered the back alleys and paths until she relocated the small temple dedicated to Xaoc that she had found years ago, certain that it would still be there. Seriously though, she could have sworn she took a left there, not a right—what was up with those alleys?

  It was weird, but what was weirder was that, almost the very moment she arrived, she was swarmed by three [Priests].

  “Oh, what an honor! Please, will you do us the privilege of leading our evening prayer?” One of them asked.

  Had any of them been the [Priest] she had all too often encountered at that temple in the past, she would have suspected it to be a trap and refused. But there was no sign of him, and… Well, the scheduling was tight with her dinner plans, but Ranthia figured she could make it work. She was a bit surprised that one of Xaoc’s temples would be the first place that immediately recognized her as a Sentinel despite her badge being stowed back in her pouch after she finished at the main temple. She was just wearing her mistweave tunic too.

  Years ago, she would have felt bashful, but she had gotten a lot of experience with leading prayers to Xaoc at the Unbreakable Image. She was perfectly willing to wing it.

  At the appointed time, Ranthia knelt before the altar to Xaoc, with a good forty-eight or so people crammed into the tiny temple behind her. The air was hot and humid from the press of bodies, but that was a small price to pay for devotion to Xaoc. She was surprised by the turnout, but she was also proud—Xaoc deserved every adherent He could get.

  “Xaoc, we are gathered here at a temple devoted to your glory. We offer you our prayers and our mana. Your chaos shapes us and enriches our lives. You are the chaos that renews the world and allows for progress. May each and every one of us bring a bit more chaos into this world and ensure that no one ever forgets your glory.”

  Ranthia began. The prayer continued until, at some point, she decided it felt complete. Her mana had been ravaged by the prayer. Over 80% of it was gone—accepted by Xaoc from the wellspring of mana that she possessed—by the time that she finished. Afterwards, many of the people that lived in Ariminum and the [Priests] that had joined her in prayer came up to her to thank her. Even better, each of them positively gushed about how they felt so connected to Xaoc.

  [*ding!* [Ranthia’s Covenant with Xaoc] has reached level 147!]

  It was a bit strange that just being a Sentinel had earned her the invitation to lead the prayer. She briefly wondered at how they had even known she was an adherent of Xaoc and not just exploring or patrolling, but she decided that one of the [Priests] must have recognized her from her prior—and unfortunately irregular—visits to the temple.

  She resolved to attend more regularly while she was trapped in Remus.

  After she finally got free of that obligation, Ranthia borrowed a back room in the temple to change into her sexy mistweave dress and pinned her Sentinel badge to her chest. She was not about to enter the wealthy district of Ariminum without her badge on, not with her luck with guards. …Plus, she had the foundation of an Evil Plot to mess with Tertia a bit. Too bad her Sentinel armor was back in her room at Ranger Headquarters.

  Of course, she was also already late. Ranthia was fast, excessively fast by Remus’ standards, but she also couldn’t use her shifting abilities while she was dressed in her mistweave dress. How had she overlooked making an image with it yet? That was definitely on her near future to-do list.

  The Hyrria estate was massive. Ranthia had always known that Tertia came from money, but somehow, she had managed to underestimate that. Part of Ranthia wondered how Tertia had managed to end up the new head of the family when she had two older siblings. Ultimately, Ranthia really had been a poor friend—she had considered herself close to Tertia, but ultimately it still felt like she knew precious little about the woman’s personal life.

  Still, Ranthia mustered herself and walked up to the front door and knocked. A servant opened the door remarkably quickly.

  “Sentinel Grace, here for the mistress of the Hyrria family. Tertia, I believe.” She announced stiffly before the servant could speak.

  “My apologies Madam Sentinel, but this is not a good time. The lady awaits an urgent appointment. Perhaps we can schedule you for tomorrow?” The servant replied, prim and proper.

  “I am afraid that I must insist. This matter cannot wait.” Ranthia replied.

  She allowed herself to tense slightly and not-quite-subtly moved her hand closer to the adamantium baton hanging from her belt.

  “O-of course, my apologies to the Sentinel. Please, follow me.”

  Okay, yeah, that had crossed a line. The poor man was visibly pale, and his movements seemed shaky. Ranthia promised herself that she would apologize to him shortly—once she had her payoff.

  They passed through the artwork-laden walls and halls until they reached a sitting room. Nervously, the servant bid Ranthia to wait a moment and poked his head in.

  “Madams, I apologize for this interruption. There is a Sentinel here on urgent business.” He reported.

  It felt like it took a small eternity, but finally Tertia emerged from the room, followed closely by a pretty younger woman that seemed to be around 20. They were dressed in red togas, and Tertia’s had gold trim. Identical gem-studded bangles were on their left wrists.

  Tertia and Ranthia gave each other a serious look. Fortunately, Ranthia wore her blindfold so no one could see the mischief in her eyes. Assuming anyone could actually recognize emotion in her creepy eyes.

  “By the gods. You crazy, chaotic bitch…” Tertia drew herself up.

  Ranthia broke first and grinned. Tertia laughed in delight and ran forward to embrace her old friend. Her wife just looked confused. The servant had left quickly when Tertia called the scary Sentinel names.

  Ranthia happily embraced Tertia. Questions bubbled on her tongue, but she enjoyed the moment instead. Questions could wait!

  “Geeze, you just had to try and give me a heart attack. And oooh, I am going to throttle Juvenae and Pyra for not telling me they made you a freaking Sentinel! Shouldn’t be surprised, mind; it’s wildly overdue. Ugh, the one time I decide not to buy a ticket to the Ranger Convocation, and I miss everything! Well, come on, if we’re any later to dinner my chef might hire mercenaries to hunt us down.” Tertia playfully grumbled.

  The three women walked, while Tertia introduced Ranthia to her wife—who certainly had a name and Ranthia had certainly and earnestly tried to learn it—between what Ranthia was increasingly less certain were just good-natured grumbles about being left out of the loop and cruel pranks.

  Once again Ranthia had to go through everything she had been through while they ate. Of course, with Tertia’s wife there, she took the excuse to cut out the bleaker bits and the more secretive stuff. In hindsight, the tale sounded entirely too heroic—like something a [Bard] would croon over—when it was sanitized. The realization rankled, but Ranthia really didn’t want to say too much to a stranger, even if she was entangled with one of Ranthia’s closest friends.

  At least the food was good. Though it felt like a completely excessive quantity of food for the three of them.

  Tertia no doubt knew well that Ranthia had sanitized her story, but the woman didn’t say anything. Her wife looked enamored at the tale of heroism and endurance, just like the audience of any tavern [Bard]. Ugh.

  Tertia, on the other hand, chose to not linger on the story or allow her wife to ask for further details. She changed the topic as soon as Ranthia was done.

  “Well, you got through all that and came back, that’s what’s important in the end. Got a new girlfriend yet? I know a few unattached wealthy daughters I could introduce you to, now that you’re a Sentinel.” Tertia offered.

  Ranthia froze briefly. After Lysia’s, frankly horrible, reaction she was more than a bit less excited about spreading her news about Avyna. Everyone else seemed positive, but… Ranthia steeled herself and tried to push the worries aside. She was looking forward to her new relationship—assuming Avyna actually waited for her, unlike Hexara (no, bad mind, behave)—and she wanted to share her potential happiness with the woman she considered to be her closest friend. She would just hope for the best.

  “Actually, I might once I return to the front lines. I met a woman—an elf—in Coalition City and the two of us really seemed to hit it off. We plan to try a relationship once I return to the front next year.”

  Lead with the worst, hope for the best.

  “…You okay with the waiting for your return thing? I know what happened with your ex…” Tertia offered friendly concern for her well-being.

  “Oh wow, an elf! Are they as beautiful as I’ve heard?” Her wife asked eagerly.

  Ranthia’s relief was palpable.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s why I wanted to wait until my return to start anything though. She was actually amused when I said a year was a long time. Elves just don’t look at things like we do. And yes, they’re very, very attractive. First time in my life I’ve felt any attraction towards a male, even if he wasn’t super masculine in appearance. But Avyna’s just gorgeous!” She bragged.

  “Well, c’mon. Dish!” Tertia encouraged while her wife nodded along eagerly.

  “Avyna’s a [Merchant], I met her at the fruit stand she ran. Okay, I admit it: I was crushing on her from the first time I saw her. She has long, silky blonde hair and vivid green eyes. Her horns curl back around her ears, in a very cute way. She does have a daughter, but her association with the father came to an end long ago. …Not going to lie, I kinda had a crush on her daughter too, but I think Avyna and I could be happy together.” Ranthia dished.

  “Ugh, I am so jealous! An elf! It’s like something out of an old story.” Tertia’s wife sighed.

  “Oh, now I’m not good enough?” Tertia playfully challenged.

  Ranthia politely tuned out the two women’s cute couple banter—er, among other things—while she allowed her mind to wander toward Avyna. She was, for the moment, still single by the agreement they made. She was still free to find happiness, long term or for a single night. But she hoped to build something special with Avyna once her year in Remus passed.

  “Ahem, sorry about that. If you don’t mind me asking, why did you seem so guarded when you first brought her up?” Tertia asked, once she separated from her wife.

  Ranthia politely declined to point out that neither woman’s cosmetics were where they were supposed to be anymore.

  “Oh um… I told the others from our team earlier, but Lysia… reacted kind of badly. Still can’t believe she likened Avyna to lusting after dinosaurs.”

  No small amount of heat entered Ranthia’s voice as she remembered.

  “Whoa! Careful, I don’t think you really understand just how terrifying it is to see you angry these days.” Tertia interrupted.

  Ranthia blinked.

  “What?” She was utterly side-tracked by surprise.

  “I’m serious. You’re one of the highest-level anythings in Remus right now. You could probably break cities with a wild enough tantrum. Every time you tense up or get angry it reminds the rest of us of an apex predator in our midst. Fair bet it even affects those who don’t have [Identify] or anything like it. My friend, you radiate danger when you get mad. My wife hides her negative reactions well, but I know her well enough to tell she got genuinely scared. We humans are used to being prey to big threats, and you’re definitely one of those. You probably have enough strength to put your fist straight through even my chest if you wanted to, and I know for a fact that your strength stat was always pretty neglected.

  “Just… calm down. Think things through from our perspectives. That abelisaurus we fought together back when, that was a kind of threat that could have killed any one of us had we messed up. Even with it being an abelisaurus, you might just outclass it in every stat now.”

  Ranthia opened her mouth to retort but thought better of it. She sighed and forced herself to really, seriously consider Tertia’s words. Once she pushed past her indignation, she found that there was more than a little truth to it. The abelisaurus comparison helped. It had been what, in the low 300’s? With her stats, could it have even managed to harm her as she was now? At the very least, she would have to basically be asleep to be in any danger from it.

  Ranthia sighed again. It was weird to think about. She had, of course, noticed that a lot of things felt fragile in Remus. But it was hard to shift her train of thought from subpar craftsmanship and a lack of maintenance to her just being wildly overpowered. Then again, as she traveled the roads, she remembered finding the couriers slow moving and weak…

  She was level 627. When she was young, unlocking your third class was generally thought to be almost impossible—something that even the oldest masters never achieved. Since the dawn of the war against the shimagu—and the end of the Formorian War—Remus had hundreds who had done it, but level gains slowed the higher level you got. She was pretty sure some of the veteran Sentinels had a higher level than she did, but she was still one of the strongest humans around.

  She was higher level than Sentinel Night. Sure, she was still dead certain that he could kill her. He was, somehow, significantly faster than she was. He knew her weaknesses. Even if he came at her ‘fairly’, head-on with forewarning, she doubted that she would be able to do much more than make him suffer for her death—at best. But, she had a large level advantage over him. Punching up was supposed to get harder the higher level you got, despite her own experiences being largely tainted by threats she at least partially countered.

  In Remus, away from almost everyone else of high level, she was a monster among monsters.

  And that was surprisingly hard to accept.

  “Thanks… I understand. My apologies to your pretty wife for unsettling her.” Ranthia tried to smile.

  It felt hollow.

  Would she have ever even realized it if someone hadn’t called attention to it? She knew from experience that most people in Remus didn’t bother with [Identify]. When your city rarely saw anyone much past level 100 except the decrepit and the Rangers, there wasn’t much point in the skill outside a few professions. Despite her level, her relative youth offered her quite a bit of anonymity with most folk. …At least until she got angry or otherwise revealed her relative ‘inhumanity.’

  After the realization, part of her couldn’t help but feel like there was no place for her in Remus anymore.

  “It’s okay, just try to bear it in mind. As for Lysia… She’s always been kind of immature, usually I say that in an affectionate way, but here we land on one of the bad points. Elves, dwarves, and such are just stories of strange non-humans to her. When you only know of another being as something that’s different from you—while you remain free of contact with them—it’s really easy to become convinced that there’s some critical difference. People want to believe that they—and our Empire—are special. Better. As news spread of the Coalition and the other races, I’ve seen quite a bit of it. People entrench their way of thinking and get stubborn about it, so they don’t have to try to change or adapt when our world changes. But Pallos isn’t just Remus anymore, and we’ll never go back to those days. My wife and I are both definitely on the side that we need to grow and adapt, but a lot of people won’t.

  “If she met your Avyna I’m sure her tune would change quickly. She’s a good person, just… Well, immature and inflexible.”

  There was wisdom in Tertia’s words. But Ranthia still struggled to accept it. She just couldn’t imagine being so close-minded. What did species or skin tone or horns matter next to the power of communication? How could anyone consider another being they could communicate on equal footing with to be anything lesser than themselves?

  …Of course, down that train of thought laid unpleasant reassessments of Remus’ civilization, especially due to its slavery practices. Thoughts that she probably should reassess, but it felt dangerous to look into the flaws in society when she arguably had enough power to just dance into the senate chambers—straight through the Praetorian Guard—and start culling those in power.

  Fortunately, she was saved from that disturbing line of introspection.

  “I hope this doesn’t come off the wrong way, but I’ve heard that elves can be kind of arrogant. I’m hoping the truth is different?” Tertia’s wife asked.

  Ranthia opened her mouth to soundly reject the notion but closed it and considered the question. Honestly, she could see it. And from there, she found a better response.

  “I can see why people with limited contact with them could feel that way. I don’t really think it’s meant as arrogance? Elves just have a slightly different perspective on things. They’re immortal. There’re probably elves that have been around since the dawn of Pallos, some five thousand years ago. Avyna’s lived for several hundred years… I… uh, I guess I never asked how many? But yeah, they have a lot of experience and knowledge that Remus… doesn’t. And I don’t just mean culturally, I literally mean each and every elf we interact with.

  “It's not about arrogance or anything. I’m sure we just sometimes frustrate them. Avyna’s a good person. Her daughter didn’t seem to like me much, but I see more arrogance out of the wealthy district—uh, no offense—than I have from any elf that I’ve interacted with.”

  Ranthia was dead certain of the accuracy of her words.

  Fortunately, neither Tertia nor her wife took offense to Ranthia’s almost insult. She had oh-so-briefly completely spaced on the fact that her dear friend lived in that wealthy district. Instead, the two of them happily regaled Ranthia with tales of arrogance and petty displays of power while they dined.

  Ranthia couldn’t help but to feel a stab of displeasure every time she watched a platter of food that had barely been damaged by the three of them get whisked away. It just seemed to be such a waste. A casual, arrogant display of wealth that Tertia and her pretty wife seemed to be blind to. Every time it happened Ranthia considered—and dismissed—saying something.

  It just wasn’t her place.

  It soured her appetite a bit though.

  Tertia’s wife had just requested the dessert course to be brought out when Ranthia was spared from her (wildly unimportant) moral dilemma by the rapid arrival of a different servant.

  “My apologies! There’s a runner from Ranger Headquarters for Sentinel Grace. Says it is an emergency.” The woman announced.

  Ranthia stood and smiled sardonically at Tertia.

  “Guess duty calls. It really was a pleasure to see you again and meet your wife. And… thanks for the advice. I probably needed to hear it.”

  She didn’t wait to hear the response or see what the dessert would be. It had smelled heavenly from the kitchen, but she wasn’t quite disloyal enough to cast aside her obligations for a bit of treat food that would probably be far less heavenly on her tongue. Heavy sweets could smell lovely, but they always just tasted overpoweringly sweet. Abusing her palate for the past several years had not helped.

  Ranthia made her way to the front exit by memory. Unfortunately, she never spotted the poor servant she had terrified with her arrival—she would have to apologize to him another day. In front of the manor, she found a winded runner who told her to report to the Sentinel meeting room for an emergency. He didn’t know any details, of course.

  Duty called.

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  Nozomi Matsuoka.

  Sarah "Neila" Elkins.