In Rond’s tavern, a crowd of people gathered. Some in work attires, other in their formal attires and few were in their everyday clothing took to drinking to one another.

  All were also loudly discussing regarding the future of Tamare. Who would take up the mantle of overseeing the village? How would one go about and organize it?

  Behind the bar, Rond was trying to mediate the rowdy debate. He spotted Arlene walked in, somewhat glittering with her new armours from the lighting.

  Other were too occupied in the talk they didn’t notice her.

  Rond mouthed to Arlene, “Please help me.”

  Arlene shrugged and mouthed back, “Good luck!”

  She knew the nature of politicking was way outside her station. And thus she quickly paced herself toward the stairways and to her room.

  Leaving the shouting of conflicted opinions and laughter behind.

  Her hand pushed down the doorknob, stepping through door to the room. Wattyson was inside. He was seated with his back turned to the door, his right arm vibrating.

  Why was he vibrating so fast?

  His robe sleeve was swaying so fast it just looked still in place with afterimage blurring to the sides.

  “Watty?” she let out a soft whisper. She stepped up slowly to him. “What are you doing?”

  “Writing” he responded.

  “Are you really? Your arm looks like it’s about to come off.”

  He stopped writing and took a look at his palm.

  “When you write a lot like me… reality bends to my will.”

  “What?”

  “When you write a lot like me... reality ben-“

  “I heard you! What are you talking about?!”

  “Thought of saying something profound… it didn’t work.”

  Arlene rested her hands on his chair stand, leaning over his shoulder to read what he was writing.

  “I can’t understand those. It looked like a priest’s handwriting!”

  “That’s rude. This is my writing style. If anything, those damn priests stole it from me!”

  “So what? Next you’re going to say priesthood stole your robe motifs too?”

  “Would you be surprised if I say yes?”

  Arlene didn’t reply, yet instead trying to decipher the scripts on that worn book.

  “Wait!” Her hand shoved Wattyson’s writing hand away. “I’m trying to read!”

  “You can’t even read it…”

  “I feel like if I channel your weirdness, I might be able to.”

  “That’s… not how figuring out a language work.”

  Wattyson’s reattempts to continue writing were met with Arlene’s blockade.

  “Can you stop swatting my hand away?”

  “Ohh? Is my greave too hard for your delicate hand?

  “No, it’s… wait,” he looked to Arlene whose gaze still firmly on the book. “Your greave?”

  “Mhmm… look!” her gaze on Wattyson, raising her arm to show the arm greaves. “I just got them repaired, it’s palladium and just as sturdy!”

  Wattyson stared at it, and then to her eyes. A look of confusion.

  “The arm greaves… aren’t those called bracers?”

  “The… what?”

  “Bracer” he raised his own arm, then tapping on it. “That’s to guard your forearm. Greave is for legs. Like your shin.”

  “Really? My mentor always referred to them as arm greaves and leg greaves.”

  “They’re… not the correct term. Well I guess they do give you the idea of what you’re referring to but… they’re called bracers or vambraces.”

  “So this entire time, I’ve been using the wrong term? Why didn’t anyone correct me?”

  Wattyson shrugged, “Who’s gonna stop someone excitedly use the wrong term like you?” He returned to his writing, content he put her to think for now.

  “Wait! Then what do you call this?” she raised her hands, revealing it in full.

  “Those’re your hands…”

  “Wait! No! I meant… what are the armoured gloves call?”

  “Gauntlets?”

  “Oooh ok!” she breathed in. “At least I know what those are…” She immediately bounced back and began to lean harder to read the chicken scribble.

  “You know… you could just ask?”

  “Are you going to tell me though?”

  “That chance decreases the longer this goes on.”

  She finally relented, backing out to sit on the bed instead.

  “Okay Watty, what are you writing about?”

  “Just… journal report,” a somber voice from Wattyson.

  It brought Arlene in. “On?”

  Wattyson exhaled deeply. “Regarding the search for a canned tuna mayonnaise… I refuse to believe they stopped producing it. I asked Rond about it and he didn-“

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  “Wait?! So when you agreed to join me… on this quest or adventure, you were actually joining to find that canned tuna?”

  “That… is one of my major reasoning yes.”

  “So when you said you were going to talk to Rond, trying to convince him to become a village mayor or whatnot… you were actually trying to find out about the tuna?”

  “That was a major part of it yes.”

  She rubbed her nose temple, having to hear about this. Wait… why was he here?

  “Are you not going to help Rond out?”

  “Nah.”

  “Huh?! Why? Wasn’t it you who tried to push him to become a leader?”

  “Yeah… it’ll be easier to maintain the fabricated tale but he kept declining. Something the whole village to join together and lead instead. I just gave him a few pointers and left.”

  A small pause before she asked, “Do… do you know anything about politics?”

  “No. Hence why I removed myself from whatever’s going on downstair.”

  Arlene didn’t retort. Instead choosing to fall flat on the soft bed. Wattyson continued to write in his unrecognizable scripts.

  A few moments later, Wattyson broke the silence.

  “So when are you going to tell me?”

  Arlene laid to the side, facing him.

  “About what?”

  “The quest. You said your mentor gave you a quest and told you to seek me out right? What is it about?”

  “I..” she paused for a bit, “I don’t actually know… all he said was to seek you out. Nothing about giving me a quest or anything.”

  “Then why did he write seeking me out will help you in this post-Dark Lord quest?”

  “I’m still trying to understand that.” She said as she flapped her hands about.

  “Then let me change my question. Where are we heading next?”

  “Why are you asking me?”

  “You invited me to join you. Ergo, you decide.”

  “Right…”

  Her mind opened up possible destination. None of them had any end goals in mind. A life of wanderlust adventure.

  Maybe they could go to the city of Toulasi just south from here. The enchanted forest of Mi’ir? Or maybe even retraced her steps back to the Dark Citadel, to see how much had changed and brought Wattyson along.

  And then a sudden realization hit her. Her leather bag had felt lighter after she paid for the repair. She rose up from the bed, quickly rummaging through the bag.

  “Watty... can we go to the city of Toulasi next?”

  “Sure… can I ask why?”

  “I… I’m running out of money.”

  “I see- wait what?” Wattyson looked startled. “Aren’t you the Chosen One? Slayer of the Dark Lord and Herald of Peace? How are you out of money?”

  Arlene shut her bag and laid back to the bed.

  “I didn’t bring that much money with me! Plus, I had to spend most of it travelling to find you! You weren’t exactly easy to find!” she paused to look at him, “Do you know how many red forests there are in the world? Too many!”

  “But… surely the world paid you a lot right? Defeating the Dark Lord and all. You were probably promised noble positions too or a royal marriage or something?”

  “They did. in a lot of gold. I just… deposited them back home in Roye’shi. And they did offer me those nobility things too… but I’m not cut out for it, so I rejected and left travelling.”

  Wattyson nodded, returning back to the previous topic. “So how is going to Toulasi fix your money problem? If I recall correctly… Toulasi is part of Bavasr. Are you going to withdraw your money there?”

  Arlene sighed. “No… Bavasr isn’t part of the commercial bloc with Roye’shi… I can’t withdraw my money there.”

  “But you got paid in gold? The gold standard should still apply.”

  “I don’t know! It’s all politics anyway!”

  “Bureaucracy… How I hate them,” he seethed before calming back down. “So how are you going to get money in Toulasi?”

  “Simple! Adventure Guild’s quest!”

  “They’re still around?”

  “Well yeah? They played important role during the Dark Lord’s War and even nowadays. They helped deal with problems too small for army mobilization.”

  She flashed a card.

  “I’m an SSSSSSSSSSSSSSS+ Rank!”

  “I don’t even understand what that mean…”

  “It used grading like S is top then followed by A, B, C all the way to E.”

  “So why do you have so many S?”

  “I think when I went to register, they don’t know how to rank me so they just made up one.”

  She sat up and showed the card clearer to him.

  “The Rank is a culmination of your ability. Like you can see here it include your strength, perception, agility, dexterity…”

  She continued but to Wattyson, it all felt like a dribble. He just zoned out.

  “…and those are all used to average out what rank you are!”

  Wattyson sighed. “Why are you explaining it to me?”

  “Well duh! You’re going to register once we’re in Toulasi! I doubt a recluse like you have one. Or would you rather sit in the Guild and listen to their longer explanation?”

  His eyes tensed, sharpened and narrowed to hers.

  “There’re longer explanations?”

  “They really love to go full technical… they don’t want to face any liability after all.”

  His hand placed on his forehead, slowly dragging down from this revelation. Muttered out a quiet “Fucking hell.”

  Arlene didn’t hear it, she continued to explain how Guild work.

  He interjected, “Can I not register? I should still be able to help you right?”

  “You must!” she slammed her two hands onto the cushy bed. “It’ll help with quest requiring duo to take!”

  He raised his eyebrows, “Even though you’re the chosen one?”

  “Even more so! It’s to help set a good example! Even someone like me need help!”

  Wattyson couldn’t argue back. He could relate that to his time hunting the supernatural.

  “Alright… I’ll register when we’re in Toulasi.”

  Arlene beamed up. “Alright! Let me tell you how the quest accept procedure go. First, you-“

  He held his palm up. “Just walk me through when we’re there… I don’t want to listen to it right now.”

  “Alright,” she pouted about it.

  Silence dawned on them again. Wattyson to his writing and Arlene this time respectfully leaned to decipher without pushing his boundaries.

  She could finally make out a few phrases. He really was writing about the canned tuna mayonnaise.

  “So how was today?” he broke it again. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

  “Yeah… I did. Got my armour repaired and went into a café for the first time.”

  “How was it?”

  “It was… an enjoyable experience. Everything seems lived in. I was taught by a little girl named Lini. Speaking of Lini,” she paused poking his shoulder. “Why did you give her that branch?”

  “Oh Lini is that little girl?” he glanced to her briefly. “Saw her swinging her arm around without holding anything, so I just gave her a random branch I found.”

  “A branch that coincidentally looked like a sword?”

  “Life works in mysterious way.”

  She rolled her eyes, “Well she loves it. And we had a good time in the café, what a lively child.”

  “That’s great to hear… you gotta teach me one day.”

  “Oh? On what?”

  “Café. I’ve never been in one too.”

  “Heh. I’ll show you all the correct way to behave in one!”

  She giggled out before asking, “What about you? Are you doing alright?”

  He didn’t answer, but he stopped writing.

  “I’ve... been here and there. I’m alright.”

  “Are you really though?”

  “I am. Don’t worry.”

  “You didn’t even notice I brought your staff back from the forge.”

  “I… well I was busy writing.”

  “Then tell me why did you even put it to repair? It was only a graze. You overpaid the repair too.”

  She looked to the staff, right beside the bed laying on the ground. It was in pristine condition. Something that could be achieved through simple cleaning. Why the repair?

  His voice was a bit shaky, but not enough to deter him from his usual calm and somewhat monotone speaking.

  “I feel uncomfortable if it was damaged.”

  Arlene didn’t push any further. The man before her was a tightly guarded person. Maybe with enough time, it would slowly be peel off.

  She placed her hand on his shoulder, “Next time… you can just ask me to fix it for you. I know how to do maintenance.”

  He glanced to her side, a faint smile crept in. “Alright… if you say so.”

  “So will you be sleeping anytime soon?”

  “After you. You get the bed still.”

  “Come on! You always let me have the bed! How about you this time?”

  “I’ll be fine”

  He turned, giving her a headpat.

  “I’ll be fine…”

  Arlene nodded, “Fine… but wake me if you desire the soft mattress okay?”

  “I will.”

  Arlene slowly undid her armour, leaving it gently to the side. She didn’t change out her tunic clothing.

  “Are you going to sleep like that? No shower?” he asked, his thumb pointing to the bathroom.

  Arlene exhaled loudly. “No… I’m quite tired today. A lot of thinking and enjoying myself happened.”

  “I see…”

  Wattyson reached into his inner robe, taking out an accessory. He handed it over to Arlene.

  “Here… you should have this.”

  “A headband?”

  “It belonged to Neciel. I thought you should have it.”

  She froze. Neciel’s hairband? Where did he get it from? Did he go to the mound today?

  He continued, “Something to remember her by.”

  Her line of thinking stopped and instead chose to accept it from him. Her hands moved to take it gently. Holding it and staring at the checked pattern of flower and sun.

  She chuckled, “The design’s a bit off though. I like it.”

  She raised her hands slowly, swooping the headbands in between her hairs.

  “How do I look?”

  Wattyson smiled, “Look like you’re full of joy.”

  She burst out laughing, “What does that even mean? Hehe.”

  She laid down for the final time now, resting her eyes. “Goodnight, Watty.”

  “Goodnight, Arlene.”