Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

One hundred gold pieces jangled in her backpack. Well, one hundred and fifteen, including the bag of extra gold she, ahem, borrowed from Master Akdov back at the monastery, tucked in her pockets. Elowen held his head low, hands curled, almost hugging himself-he definitely got a few glances as they walked back to the inn, and Elowen flinched at every stare. Ziggy played with the bag containing his fifty gold-Beetle now one hundred and fifty gold richer, something about a ‘new lute’ and ‘emotional damage tax’, but Ziggy didn’t seem to care, more focused on the glory that was sure to follow than the money. Jay was absolutely loaded at the moment, having taken her own pay and both Radan’s and Elowen’s. She presumed Jay was going to give the money back to their proper owners, but Elowen kept refusing it during their walk back.

Inside the Marigold, as innocent as ever, Toast chowed down on some sandwiches, crusts cut off and in a little pile on the corner of his plate. Clover polished a glass, narrowing her eyes as she watched the group come in.

“...Welcome back.” She said, cautiously.

That was about all it took to completely and utterly break Elowen. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I-I’m so sorry-”

He darted up the stairs, all creaking metal and dull, shaky breaths. Clover stared as Elowen disappeared, frowning. She put the glass down with a dull thud.

“Radan didn’t exactly say what happened,” Clover looked back to the group, looking rather tired and a bit worried, “But uh, I assume it wasn’t good.”

Tipsy shook her head. “It was not, no.”

“Was a little funny, though.” Beetle said with not a shred of empathy. Tipsy shot him a glare, but the tabaxi was already leaned against the wall, tail flickering back and forth as he relaxed. Ziggy whispered something to the same effect, and Tipsy briefly considered punting the grung into the ceiling before remembering that she was trying to keep a cool head here, and simply twiddled her thumbs.

“I don’t exactly know what happened exactly,” Tipsy supposed Clover deserved some kind of explanation, “But Von Iris was just staring out into nothing, like he was seeing something we couldn’t, so Radan tried to get him out of his trance there and Von Iris just...swung.”

“S-Swung?,” Clover stuttered, eyes wide with horror, “Like, his arm?”

“Yeah, practically cracked Radan’s skull open, punched Radan straight to the ground.” Tipsy noticed Clover’s brow furrow, a look of intense worry crossing over her face.

“I did see some scratches on their face when they came in, they seemed pretty down...were um, you able to find everything you needed in Merrick’s? I saw Fallon come in, a little bit before Radan did, and I gave him some supplies to make some care packages for the villagers.” Clover gave a faint smile.

Jay held up her pet broom.

“Well, Jay found a broom,” Tipsy said sagely, “Ziggy found some weird flowers-please don’t demonstrate them, Ziggy, and Beetle found uh...”

Beetle waved the hand with the cactus still attached to it around.

Clover’s eyes lit up, and she smiled. She stepped around the bar, and held her hand out. “Come on, let me see, lower your hand please.” She all but demanded. Beetle did as he was told, for once, and Clover inspected the stubborn cactus closely. “Oh, this is a Moonflower Cactus! Put your hand on the table, I’m gonna go grab some water real quick.”

As quickly as she left, Clover whipped right back around, a pitcher of ice cold water in one hand and a glass in the other. She trotted over to Beetle’s hand, palm (and cactus) on its side resting on the bar counter, and poured the water against the cactus.

Almost immediately, the cactus let go, popping right off Beetle’s hand, leaving nary a needle left-though there were definitely quite a few pinpricked holes in his paw.

“There we go!,” Clover smiled, and cooed at the cactus, pulling it closer to her, “Oh, weren’t you so dehydrated!”

Beetle pursed his lips as he watched Clover treat the cactus like a newborn baby. Clover glanced up at Beetle, back down to the cactus, and then jumped.

“Do you want it back? I just wanted to look at it, I haven’t seen one of these in quite some time.” Clover seemed completely in awe by the plant.

“What does it do?” Tipsy asked.

“It’s just a moonfall cacti, they bloom in the fall time, especially under the moonlight, which is why they’re, er, called moonfall cacti. They were native to Fenharrow, used to be pretty abundant from what I remember…,” Clover looked to the side for a moment, a somewhat mournful look ripping over her, “Haven’t seen one of these in over thirteen years, now that I think about it...yes, yes, but when they’re dehydrated they’ll latch onto anything they can and suck the moisture out of its victim, so it’s good I got to it when I did, otherwise you could be keeling over by now.”

“Too bad you had to show him how to get it off,” Ziggy grumbled, “It was funny.”

“Here, in fact, have the rest of this, you must be feeling pretty light headed.” Clover passed the waterglass to Beetle and filled it up. He didn’t say anything, but the way he eagerly sipped down the drink showed that he was at least somewhat grateful. “Why don’t I-oh, hello! I don’t remember you!”

A figure in a deep red cloak walked down the stairs, ignoring Clover. Tipsy narrowed her eyes; pale pink skin, round glasses, blonde, near white hair…

She knew this figure.

“Hey-hey!” Tipsy called out as the disguised god slid from the stairwell to the doorway. The god, Samaaris, it had to be her, paused, and looked behind her, glasses catching in the afternoon light. “Who are you?”

The goddess blinked, and smiled. “Oh, nobody.”

She walked right out the door. Tipsy grimaced, and marched over, hands curled. What the fuck? The god had harassed them enough already, why play some stupid little game with them now, here?

Tipsy kicked the door opening, ignoring Clover’s cries of protest. She looked around wildly, trying to spot the goddess-it had to be her, she knew it was her, but the crowd was thick in the city square and there was so much hustle and bustle it was hard to see two feet in front of her. Finally, she saw a glint of red, and the woman, staring back at her with pale blue eyes, making direct eye contact.

The woman smirked.

A man passed by with a cart loaded with fancy floral arrangements.

She was gone.

Tipsy slowly stepped back, letting the door shut on its own. She turned back, frowning, facing the group in stunned silence.

Jay held up her journal. That was the fucking grape, wasn’t it?

“Definitely.” Tipsy nodded, “And uh, she just disappeared into thin fuckin’ air, so um...”

Clover looked horrified. Oh, right, Clover.

“Just,” Tipsy repeated her now near-mantra for the day, “Don’t worry about that.”

“Feel like I should.” Clover bit her lip, eyes darting around the room.

“Well, just to catch you up,” Beetle leaned over the counter, “We met a goddess.”

“And she might be stalking us, so there’s that.” Ziggy added.

“We have a couple of problems.” Tipsy chuckled nervously.

Clover stared, eyebrows so far up they could touch the clouds. She nervous grabbed her dishrag off her apron, twisting and turning it around aimlessly. “I’ve never, eh, really considered myself a religious person, a-and you all are...scaring me. I don’t know what to make of this, r-really...”

“This god-she wants us all to go on a quest together, or something? But now Von Iris has punched the shit out of Radan and fuck if that’s gonna go well. We should,” Tipsy sighed, “We should probably do something about that...”

Almost on cue, Radan walked down the stairs. Their cheeks were a bit puffy, a bruise on one side of their face, and a somewhat red cast on them. Their hair was down, but they slowly were braiding it as they walked down, facing the floor. Without saying a word, equipped with the world’s most vacant expression, they sat down at the bar, finishing up their braid and folding their hands together as they looked into nothingness. Jay frowned, taking a seat next to them, and patted the faun on the side.

“Radan,” Clover asked tenderly, “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.” They replied, too quickly to really be ‘fine’.

Clover didn’t seem to believe Radan, and neither did Tipsy for that matter, but Radan clearly didn’t want to dwell on it. Toast took the other seat next to Radan, smiling, saying something in draconic that Radan gave a quiet answer to. Jay slid Radan his pouch of money-she stared at them expectantly. Reluctantly, Radan took the money, quietly tucking it away.

They turned to Tipsy. “Where’s Elowen?”

The million copper question. “He went up to his room almost immediately. I don’t-I don’t think he quite remembers what happen? He was acting pretty strangely.”

“Yeah,” Radan clicked their tongue, “I assumed as much.”

“Sh-should, uh,” Tipsy shifted around, increasingly uncomfortable, “I go get him or…?”

“No, no, I think he needs some space. Leave ‘im be.”

“Alright then. Um…,” Tipsy motioned to the side of her face, the same side on Radan that held the nasty purple and black bruise, “Do you need anything for that? Should I get a potion? I think Fallon should still have some.”

“It’s just a bruise,” Radan said casually, too casually, “I’ve certainly had worse.”

Ziggy cleared his throat.

“Well, now that we’ve established that the cow is okay, and that he’s got his money, and everything is fine, let’s go get food! I’m starving.” He grinned with sharp fangs in full view, “I believe there’s a feast waiting for us, especially me? Big hero feast?”

“I think you’re forgetting someone.” Clover crossed her arms.

Ziggy frowned. “No.”

Beetle smiled. “Who?”

Tipsy looked up the stairs. She supposed...well, it wasn’t like Radan was going to want to talk to Elowen anytime soon, so she supposed she might as well try to rouse the paladin out of whatever weird bullshit was going on with him. She wasn’t great with words and terrible at speeches, but...but...eh, who cared, the paladin was being strange and stupid anyways. If the bastard wanted to be bashful, fine, but Tipsy would be there to remind him that he was the one they called Valiant.

“You can go ahead if you want,” Tipsy said, “I’m gonna go…”

Thinkthinkthink

“Fix my hair.”

The perfect lie. No one would ever suspect what she was up to.

Except for Ziggy, apparently. “You never do your hair.” He said with extreme suspicion.

“Shut the fuck up.” Tipsy hissed, and scampered up the stairs. She was vaguely aware of Beetle following behind her a few seconds after, some slight words exchanged with Clover and Ziggy (something about the cactus being endangered, or whatever), and the nimble tabaxi was quickly able to outpace her and head into his room, leaving Tipsy alone in the hall, standing outside the closed room she was fairly certain housed Elowen.

Okay, she took a deep breath, You can do this.

She knocked on the door. Perhaps a little louder than she meant to, as Tipsy heard a loud thump and reverberating metal. She cursed-fuck, hadn’t meant to be that loud-and tried to compose herself.

“Um, Von Iris?,” Tipsy called, “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you, are you in there?”

“...Yes, I am.” His words were tinged with exhaustion.

“Just uh,” Tipsy fidgeted, unsure where to go from here, “The feast is basically ready at this point, was um, wondering...can...can you open the door?”

Metal against wood, a creak, and Elowen peered through the door, figure hunched and looming at the same time. He only had the door open a wee bit, just enough for Tipsy to see into a single slot on his helmet-she couldn’t really make out his eyes, but she could still sense the bags under them, and the tears welling up in them.

“Um-the-uh-er-,” Tipsy gritted her teeth, “Radan’s downstairs, they seem pretty okay, no harm no foul really. I mean, there’s a light bruise there but nothing major. I think it’s um...it’s all okay, I guess.”

“It’s not okay,” Elowen said, voice low, “I should have never hit them.”

Tipsy paused for a moment. “It’s fine, it was an accident.”

“I didn’t know what I was doing,” Elowen continued on like Tipsy hadn’t spoken at all, “I hurt them, I shouldn’t have done that, I didn’t know where I was and I hurt them.”

“Well-uh-” Tipsy swallowed her nerves, “Radan’s gonna help you regardless of what you did, you are paying them after all, so I mean-”

“They won’t help someone like me,” Elowen said with conviction and venom in his voice, “I don’t deserve their help.”

Something in Tipsy switched. She frowned, eyes narrowing, crossing her arms and straightening up her back. Who...who did this paladin think he was? He thought he was a monster? He thought he was scum of the earth? What, he had one moment of panic, made one mistake, one bad mistake, sure, but a mistake, and suddenly he wasn’t worthy to walk in this world? What the fuck? What the fuck? What did he know about being a fuckup? What the fuck did he know about...about…

A familiar rage filled her.

“You are a paladin,” Tipsy hissed, “You can’t just say that, you-look, come on, you’re not a horrible person for one mistake-”

“I’m a horrible person for a lot of reasons.”

Red seeped into her vision for the second time that day.

“You’re not! Stop it! You’re blowing it out of proportion, it was just an accident, Radan is fine, if you want to talk to them and apologize, fine, if not, go to the stupid fucking feast and get so drunk you won’t ever remember what happened. But I guess if you’re so convinced you’re such a monster, such a blight on this world you can stay locked up in your room, Valiant.”

“...”

Elowen looked at the ground, refusing to meet Tipsy’s gaze any longer.

“I’m not hungry.”

Tipsy grabbed the door handle and swung it shut.

She stood outside for a moment, trembling, breaths getting shorter and shorter. He-he had to be joking, right? He must be joking! Tipsy continued to silently rage as she stumbled towards This knight, so important and above the others that the prince of an enemy country knew tales of his great deeds, thought he was a bad person? Thought he didn’t deserve anything? What kind of stupid line of thinking was that? Didn’t he see how great he was? Didn’t he see all the good he was going? One mistake wasn’t going to define Elowen the Valiant, a thousand mistakes wouldn’t define him, he

He

In his shadow

She was blinded couldn’t see couldn’t feel he would prop them up bring them to great heights and what would she do who did she think she was

Inserting herself into their legend his legend he asked Ziggy she had to grovel she had to beg how could he think he she she her shadow her legends whywhy why

Why did

WhyBreath. Breath.

Breath.

Calm. Calm?

The water. Water basin. Need to. Calm down. Hands hurt head hurt lungs hurt breath in ignore the water breath out ignore the darkness breath in ignore the water ignore the burning it hurt it hurt it hurtThere was a knock at the door.

Tipsy screamed.

Her lungs felt like they were on fire, still coughing up water. The room was a wreck-brief flashes entered her mind, punches and screams, but only vague memories, pieces to a puzzle she couldn’t remember.

A deep sense of shame radiated through her.

She was a monster.

Tipsy stumbled to the door, trying to squeeze water out of her hair and failing. She fumbled through her pack, quickly grabbing the one hundred gold from her bag. She creaked the door open, cheeks flushing; Clover stood there, arms crossed, completely unamused.

“...Sorry about the room.” Tipsy croaked, handing Clover the gold and stumbling out, letting the door swing wide open.

Clover looked at the gold, the room, back to the gold, back to the room, back to the gold, glanced over at Tipsy, quickly retreating down the stairs, again at the room, and forced the world’s fakest smile.

“It needed an upgrade anyways!” The faun chocked out, tucking the gold into her pockets and angrily following behind Tipsy like she was about to snap her neck. Tipsy hoped she did.

Tipsy wasn’t sure this day could get much worse, at this point all she wanted was to disappear into a void of nothingness but...what…

What was that smell. Wood? Smoke? Burning?

Oh fuck, Ziggy-WHAT.

“The fuck-the-what the fuck happened!?” Tipsy screeched, pulling at her hair.

Clover huffed. “I could ask the same question!”

Jay laid back flat against the ground, a giant smile on her face and a thousand yard stare in her gaze. Her skirt was singed, and one of her boots was missing, off to the side in a half-melted heap. Her leg...gods, it looked terrible, skin all red and burnt and smelling horribly crispy, covered in some kind of strange salve mixed with bits of herbs. Tipsy could see the floor by the bar counter was completely burnt, though thankfully nothing was actually on fire at the moment. Ziggy was missing, the door to the Marigold wide open as if he had just run out.

At least Beetle seemed fine?

“Wh...wuh….wh...I...” Tipsy looked at Radan for answers. Radan shook their head and shrugged. Whatever had happened, they didn’t have an explanation for.

Clover disappeared into the back, tense and grumbling to herself. It made Tipsy feel horrible, and she probably deserved to; wow, so not only had Tipsy fucked up a guest room completely, but apparently Ziggy just straight up burned the Marigold, after they had just declared themselves Guardians of the Fucking Marigold. And because of her own stupidity she had to give Clover the hundred gold, when she needed that fucking money, and wouldn’t be getting the second part of that payment, the other hundred gold, until they reached Greymouth-if they reached Greymouth at this point. Why was she so stupid?

“A...Are you okay, Jay?” Tipsy asked dumbly.

Jay flashed a thumbs up, still on the ground.

“Aight.”

“I have the potion!” Clover held up a faint red and blue potion as she came back around, handing it off to Jay. Jay chugged it, grimacing at the taste, and flexed her leg.

It kind of healed. Still not great, but at least she didn’t look fresh from a roasting anymore. With her leg sort of fixed, Jay leapt back up in a way only an acrobat could do, perfectly balanced on her one remaining good leg (and one remaining shoe).

“There you go dearie,” Clover sighed, and pulled a pastry from out of her pocket, “For the road, yeah?”

Jay took the pastry and tucked it away. Guess it made sense, they were about to go to the feast and even with the motley state everyone was in, no sense in spoiling your appetite yet. She cast a glare at Beetle, who looked ever smugger, and leaned against Radan as she cautiously let her bad leg down. She could walk on it, but with a definitive limp-

“Tipsy...” Elowen trailed off, right next to her, the metal giant somehow managing to make his way close without Tipsy noticing. She nearly jumped out of her skin right there. “I’m really sorry. I haven’t had a good handle on my emotions and my mental state today, and I was harsh with you.”

The idea of Valiant being the one to apologize to Tipsy before she had even considered how to approach him nearly made Tipsy keel over with laugher. “Oh, it was nothing, don’t even have to ‘pologize, it was nothing. I was being a bit of a wanker anyways-I should probably find Ziggy, where’d he go?”

Elowen shifted his head ever so slightly. “I did upset you though, so I just...wanted you to know that.”

“Huh? You didn’t upset me,” Tipsy ignored the water still dripping off her hair and onto the floor, “I’m fine.”

“Are...are you sure?” Elowen didn’t exactly sound like he believed her.

“Yeah, no worries,” Tipsy wracked her brain for lies to cover what she had done, “Just uh, was trying to move the beds together so I could have more space and accidentally broke one of the headboards, heh. Had to move Ziggy’s water bath to the other room, and uh, didn’t go so well as you can see. Hopefully the gold I gave you helps to cover that, yeah Clover?”

Clover looked at Tipsy with complete disdain.

“...Yeah so anyways,” Tipsy clapped her hands together, “Let’s go to the feast!”

The sun was high in the sky, and Tipsy had to squint her eyes to adjust to the newfound light. Almost as soon as they exited the group found themselves surrounded by clapping and cheering villagers. Ziggy was up ahead, looking quite stunned, not moving even as Tipsy rushed to his side. Curled around his shoulders was Fireball-oh, for fucks that, idiot must of summoned the squirrel spirit, that’s why it was all kinds of fucked up in the Marigold-, who, despite Ironhaven’s supposed distaste for magic, no one seemed to mind too much.

As she regained some semblance of peace, someone tugged on her pantleg. Expecting it to be Ziggy, Tipsy glanced down; instead, a young child stood next to her, chubby little hands wrapped around a flower crown.

“This is for you, miss hero.” The child said.

Tipsy gingerly took the flower crown from the child’s hands. “...Thanks?”

She wasn’t sure if it was a prank or not, or if the flowers meant something horrible that an out of towner like her wouldn’t get, but sure, whatever, flower crown. Tipsy put it on her head, ignoring her own trepidation.

Ziggy was still shellshocked when the child went up to him, handing the grung the flower crown. He narrowed his eyes, clearly unfamiliar with it, and began to turn it around.

“Baby’s breath...daisies...bluebells...why are they all tied together?” He muttered.

“It’s a flower crown, Ziggy.” Elowen knelt down, his own crown hanging off one of his decorative antlers, and carefully adorned the grung with his crown, “It’s to honor us, they made it as a gift. Wear it proudly.”

“Not really sure you earned that flower crown, considering what you did to the Marigold.” Tipsy smirked, leaning over Ziggy. Ziggy puffed out his cheeks and began to walk a little faster to get out of range of Tipsy’s hands, presumably in fear she was going to dethrone the floral king.

“No, I earned it!” Ziggy pulled down harder on the flower crown. Tipsy rolled her eyes and walked forward, trailing behind Ziggy.

Several tables were pushed together in a semi-circular fashion, surrounding the same fountain Tipsy remembered she and Ziggy passing out in after the battle. Ah, that felt so long ago, even if, thinking about it, it was maybe, what, three days ago? Several tables to the side were mushed to form a long buffet stand, piled with plates of breakfast foods-not a lot of meats, most of that was stolen, but definitely enough yummy stuff to make her realize just how fucking starving she was. Steaming hotcakes, bowls of fruit and freshly made jams, crisp toast and golden eggs...gods, if she wasn’t in public Tipsy would go ballistic for all that right now.

As the group made their way to an especially well decorated table with six chairs waiting, Bran and Clover stepped forward.

Clover went first, angry demeanor melting away as she spoke.

“Well, this all couldn’t of been done without you.” She said simply, motion for Bran to go next. He lifted his glass, filled with some kind of sparkling white wine-champagne, did they call it?

“Here, here!” Bran cried, several other villagers also repeating the phrase and lifting their own glasses. He made his way to the edge of the fountain, standing tall and proud, smiling. He waved his hand, and the crowd went silent. “To you six, thank you for saving our town of Belimar. This day could not have been as joyous if it wasn’t for you six. And this spread could not have been done without the generous donations of the farm families surrounding our humble village, who came to us in our time of need. Thank you all for a wondrous afternoon of families rejoined, and as many lives as we have lost, we are here to celebrate their-their lives a-and their br-brav-bravery-”

Bran chocked up for a moment, wiping away a few tears.

“Well, let’s all just enjoy our food,” Bran raised his glass high into the air, “Shall we?”

No one disagreed with that.

The next few minutes went by in a blur; at some point Tipsy found herself seated next to Elowen on the knight’s left, Ziggy on her right and eagerly chowing down on his usual meal of eggs and more eggs. Tipsy nibbled at a few of the pastries and the few scant bits of bacon she was able to secure, as villagers, ones she kind of recognized, came up to the party and thanked them for their heroics.

When the last of the people subsided, and the party was left alone, Radan let out a deep, soul aching sigh, plucked a single daisy of their crown, and popped it into their mouth.

“This has been the longest three days of my entire life.” Radan said, deadpan.

“Well, this was certainly a detour that I didn’t expect to have happen, but I suppose it was more fortuitous than I thought.” Elowen picked at his food. He still wasn’t exactly eating, but at least with the straws provided by Clover he was sipping some kind of thick, blended fruit drink with a smooth, glossy finish to it.

“People definitely seem to love...oh, fuck.” Tipsy cringed as she saw someone approaching.

It was the bookseller, the crotchety old fuck carrying two books under his frail arms. He didn’t look happy, but he also didn’t look quite as miserable as he had in the shop, so that surely counted for something. He was steadied by a younger man, only a smidge taller than him, with a very nervous expression.

“Hello.” The old man greeted the group, if it could be called a greeting. More like a dying wheeze.

“Good day, sir,” Elowen politely bobbed his head, “How are you?”

“Doin’ better, thank you. If it weren’t for you lot, my bookstore would have been completely destroyed. It’s very singed but me an’ my books,” the man nodded, “We’rre gonna be okay.”

Jay raised her glass and took a sip. Tipsy was fairly certain there was either vodka or water in there, and she didn’t know which was funnier.

“Books are a precious resource, I’m glad they’re safe.” Elowen smiled-or, she presumed he did under the helmet.

The taller man returned the smile, though his face seemed permanently creased in worry. “Yes, my father, Bevon, and I are vary gracious that you were able to save his shop. And, actually, father, how about you give them the-”

Bevon slammed the books on the table with a loud thump. “Consider this my own payment.”

Elowen leaned forward and slid the books back. One of the books was familiar-the stupid godforsaken children’s book. Tipsy didn’t say a word as Elowen slid the book to her, silently tucking it into her backpack. Stupid fucking books and stupid fucking dust, gods. The second book was significantly heavier, a large compendium with an ornately illustrated cover, one depicting several dragons of varying designs. Must of been some kind of encyclopedia, then. At least Elowen got something useful.

He flipped through the book carefully, one page at a time, clearly trying not to rip the pages with his metal gauntlets. Tipsy leaned over, with some interest, Radan chewing on some kind of strange leaf the size of their head while also leaning over towards the book.

“You wanna look up the kinda dragon we fought in that cave?” Radan asked.

Elowen thought for a moment. “That’s not a bad idea...”

The bookseller cleared his throat-a gross hack of mucus and...Tipsy didn’t wanna think beyond that, really-and nodded. “Hope you found that in good taste.”

“Alright father,” Bevon’s son slung an arm around his father’s shoulders, “Let’s go-”

“Ehm, wait,” Radan said suddenly, head shooting up, “We...well, my friend here,” they motioned towards Jay, who seemed slightly uncomfortable at the attention, “Bought a sorta interestin’ journal at your store the other day, an’ I was wonderin’ if you could tell us where you tell us where it came from or how it ended up there.”

The son gave something of an apprehensive look to Bevon. “Well, uh...”

“What kind of book?” Bevon had no time for nonsense, staring directly at Jay.

Jay shifted around, and finally procured the journal, which she cautiously held out to Bevon. Bevon grabbed the book, quite carefully all things considered, licked the tips of his fingers, and in a truly oh gods why manner, began to flip through the pages with wrinkled hands.

His eyes seemed to hold some flicker of recognition as Bevon turned to his son. “Felix, take a look at this.” The bookseller said sharply as he shoved the book into Felix’s hands.

“Uh...oh, oh!,” Felix gave a small smile, “I remember this book! Wasn’t it-”

“Yes, yes,” Bevon nodded, “A rather young elf came in with a box of assorted items. I assumed the journal was empty so I put it on the shelf, but apparently it was not.”

Elowen tapped his chin guard. “Did he have long, reddish brown hair? Perhaps even worked at the apothecary down the street?”

Bevon thought for a moment. “Might have been, yes.”

“Well, nice to know all the journals came from the same place.” Elowen relaxed a bit, clearly in thought, turning to Radan.

“Seems to me that every Fenharrow related item came from the same place.” Radan took another long, savoring bite of the strange leaf thing.

“Obviously Merrick had more ties to Fenharrow than I thought...” Elowen put down his glass.

“Fenharrow?”

As if he had almost forgotten entirely about the bookseller and his son, Elowen briefly tensed. “Ah, nothing sir,” Elowen said airily, “Why don’t you just go and enjoy your brunch? There’s no need for all this heavy talk amongst the townspeople.”

Bevon grunted, clearly suspicious. But he was just a meager villager, as Elowen had said, so he passed the journal back to Jay, and simply looked at Felix, who could only shrug. Slowly, father and son walked away, Felix nervously muttering something about ‘other people to see’-whether an excuse to get Bevon away from them or to get himself away from them, Tipsy wasn’t sure.

Poking at a pastry, some strange little puffy thing filled with a delicate vanilla cream, Tipsy sighed. Finally they could left alone...or not, as they realized about a second later than Beetle that Rowan was at the buffet line, holding two plates, quietly filling them up and passing by the “hero’s table” as he went back to the Marigold.

Beetle reached a long arm out and grabbed Rowan’s hand, purring. “Hello there stranger, where ya going?”

Rowan nearly dropped the plates.

“Oh, um,” Rowan seemed slightly disappointed to see Beetle, “I was just gonna take these back to the inn...how are you all doing? Jay, it looks like your leg is doing better.”

Jay forced another smile. Didn’t her face hurt doing that? It was a real ear-to-ear kinda grin. Elowen patted her shoulder, turning to Rowan.

“You probably shouldn’t bring that up right now.” Elowen said politely.

“Probably not,” Rowan shook his head, “Just wanted to make sure she-erm, you were okay. Uh, oh! Anyways, if you guys want to come meet us at the private rooms at the Marigold later today, after all this is over, we can discuss payment.”

“I’m sure Clover will be so excited to see us again.” Elowen took another small sip of his weird fruit drink.

Ah, shit, Tipsy cringed, remembering the damage to the room, Where the hell are we gonna sleep tonight? No, no, wait, there’s the other key, the spare room Ziggy was gonna be left alone in, you can just move in there. “Uh, Ziggy…,” Tipsy started. He looked at her, mouth full of eggs, and she lost her nerve almost immediately. “Eh, never mind, actually, we’ll talk about it later.”

“...Right, well, good luck with that,” Rowan nodded, “I’m gonna head back in, we’re gonna eat, and uh, feel free to pop on in.”

He left in a hurry after that, Beetle vaguely disappointed. Elowen turned back to the dragon book, clearly getting somewhat frustrated by the slow pace-Tipsy glanced over his shoulder, eyebrow raised.

“That’s a pretty big compilation there…,” some kernel of nostalgia wormed its way through her words, “I wonder if they have any dune devils in there?”

“Or one for a dark scary star dragon of death?” Radan put their head on their hands.

Elowen flipped back to the table of contents, dragging a finger along the worn out pages. He paused, though his hand obscured what he had found, and he quickly flipped forward past several long texts to get to the page. He tilted the book towards Tipsy, though some of the ink was faded and smudged with time. “Is this what you want to see?”

{Dune Devils. Rare, underground dr____s, found only in Dunefold. Primarily native to th_ _____ regions, but can be found _____ as we_l. Masters at di_____, with the on__ ____ be__g the ___ sh___ that they leave in their wake. Highly dangerous, and rarely leave ____vors. Only the most experienced of h__ters should try to trifle with Dune Devils.}

“Uh, n-no,” Tipsy stumbled nervously, “I already know about them, you don’t have to worry about that-uh, just focus on trying to find whatever the hell we fought back there.”

He gave a slight pause, then flipped back to the index.

“You haven’t encountered one of those beasts, have you?” Elowen asked.

Son of a bitch-“It was a long, long time ago,” her voice began to speed up despite herself, “Kind of a funny story, actually-”

A voice echoed in her head. Everyone has their limits, and you need to learn yours….we can handle these kind of battles. You can’t.

The fork bent in half in her grip. “I mean, I don’t have any experience with uh, normal dragons anyways, but that beast we fought was pretty weird. Haven’t-haven’t you had, uh,” Tipsy did her best to recall what little knowledge she had on Hammershire and its paladins, “Friends that fought dragons? What dragons did they fight?”

“…,” Elowen tilted his head to the side in clear confusion, “Are you referring to Droyn the-no, my apologizes, Frederick the Turbulent? I really shouldn’t be getting them confused, I had a rough morning. But Frederick came much before me. I never met the man, he died shortly before I became a paladin.”

Huh. Not the answer Tipsy expected. She supposed she didn’t know what she expected; Elowen the Valiant and his little gang of similarly titled paladins sitting around a table much like this one, with tea and biscuits, discussing what town they were gonna save from certain doom next. What kind of a title was Turbulent?

“Ah-ah!,” Elowen brightened up, “I believe I found it. ‘Nightmare dragon’...”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Radan nodded, probably thinking about...whatever the dragon had growled to them in draconic. Probably how tasty the cow-man would be, or something.

Elowen flipped through several pages, finally landing on his prize. He murmured and mumbled, “Hmm...alright…okay….says that they can only hatch during the longest night of the year, with clutches of three to four, typically.”

Very helpful, Valiant. Tipsy resisted the urge to snark.

“They’re known for cloaking themselves in darkness and are typically found-oh,” Elowen looked a little closer at the text, “Northern Heartcrest and Fenharrow border...no known origin, but it’s presumed they’re from the Moaning Wastes.” He tapped against the text block print of ‘Fenharrow’, deep in thought. “This pretty much confirms it in my mind, Merrick was from Fenharrow and brought the dragon in here. It wouldn’t have surprised me if during his stay he was able to hatch it.”

“But...why?” Tipsy frowned.

“That’s the thousand coin question now isn’t it.” Elowen fidgeting with his hands, tapping a finger against the table.

“He has to be working with other people,” Radan looked over the page, eyes freezing over the illustration of the dragon, “It couldn’t have just been him.”

“Why would a man from Fenharrow decide the best place to set up his base of operation was in Belimar?” Elowen’s tapping got quicker, “And who would order him to come here?”

“Was he looking for revenge?” Tipsy leaned in, trying to keep her voice down, “I mean, not to say anything that’ll get our heads lobbed off but uh, from what little I know, who could blame him?”

“I can understand why he’d be upset with Ironhaven, but just senselessly targeting villagers, you would think he’d want to take his anger out on someone more...important...” Elowen straightened his back, “Did he know that Prince Fallon was going to come here?”

Tipsy bit her lip. It sorta made sense, and yet…“How would he know that? No one but Clover would have known he was coming.”

“And yet,” Elowen set the book down on the table, still opened, “Somehow he still ended up with the prince in his clutches, and managed to enact his plans while the prince and his royal guardian were here.”

“Do you honestly think those kobolds would ‘ave been smart enough to take instructions on which people to abduct? Toast doesn’t even remember what ‘appened.” Radan swung their hoof around, slumped over on the table. Bored, clearly.

“You think it was just sheer dumb luck?” Less an accusation on Elowen’s end and more a genuine way to try and get the conversation moving.

“I mean,” Radan shrugged, “Belimar wasn’t the only town that was ransacked, was it?”

“Lawmaster mentioned that uh,” Tipsy tried to recall the conversation she had, it felt like ages ago and her brain was already mush from the day’s previous events, “There were a few other towns that had been ransacked, but before Belimar, and never anything of this scale. Just look at the destruction...”

She motioned to the half burnt buildings and injured villagers. The scars would take months, if not years, to heal.

“It would have been a gathering of resources,” Elowen said confidently, “Building up strength for a final strike. Perhaps he did just get lucky that the prince was in town, but...”

Jay slid Elowen the journal, looking at him expectantly. It was opened to, of course, the pages with the strange entries-the ones that they probably shouldn’t have been flouting around in public, but no matter, most of the townspeople were too busy laughing or eating to pay much attention to a crusty old journal. He looked between the journal and the book. There were pieces to a puzzle here, a puzzle that Elowen clearly understood, but didn’t have all the parts to.

Radan brought their voice down to a half-whisper. “I find it interestin’ that the founder of Ironhaven was a woman with ehm, you know, elemental magic.”

“And I believe the rulers of Fenharrow were her descendants. They carried the name Mapleglade in their royal line.” Elowen traced his fingers alongside the edge of the journal, though with a quick glance from Jay, decided it was best to simply hover just over the journal instead of risk ripping its delicate pages. “When I reading back in Bevon’s shop, it said the founding of Ironhaven came with the original King Archeron uniting with the woman who held the Mapleglade name. His weapon and her magic allowed them to seal the demon king Hadeon away. Ironhaven has a foundation in magic, but I am left wondering why the Mapleglade name is associated with Fenharrow.”

Tipsy was acutely aware of a few pointed gazes on her. She looked up; a few younger villagers, children really, spying on them between bites of food. Easily scared off by the glare she gave them, but a definitive reminder.

“Yeah, um, how about we keep this conversation to the inn? Not to interrupt, but,” Tipsy gave a vague motion to the children, “But uh, you know, feast going on, don’t wanna get arrested.”

“Ah, yes.” Elowen handed Jay her journal back and tucked the dragon compendium away.

It was a good thing too, as Tipsy noticed Harkin approaching, a hearty grin on his face. He clapped his hands together and waved, giving a small bow.

“Yoohoo! Hello, heroes!” Harkin leaned over, looking around, “Can I get you anymore food? Perhaps clear away your plates?”

Jay handed him a plate with a single bite taken from a piece of bread. Harkin blinked, but thankfully said nothing.

“Could you get me more ale?” Tipsy asked.

“Sure, sure, I’ll check with Clover.” He said, collecting the plates one by one. “Here, let me get that all cleared away for ya...”

“No, no,” Elowen shook his head, “Allow me, please.”

Tipsy looked over. Wow. It had to be an act, right? She flashed back to when Elowen had knelt down like he was nothing, cleaning up the mess Tipsy made. He saved villagers and he helped clear away plates, it was stupid how good he acted. Didn’t even want money, didn’t want attention, refused the name he had earned because...what, bashfulness? Perhaps, like Tipsy, waiting until he could earn the right to reclaim it as his?

She became acutely aware of the fifteen gold she kept on her.

Hm.

While Elowen was leaning forward, handing the plates to Harkin, Tipsy slid her fifteen gold against a side crevice in his armor. She wasn’t even sure if Elowen would ever notice it there-gods, she wondered what he had lost because he accidentally dropped it and it disappeared into his armor-but there was always the saying about the counting of thoughts, right?

“Tipsy!,” Clover cried, hopping on over, looking significantly calmer and significantly happier, “I heard you needed some more ale. I have some more in the back of the inn, if you wanna just hop inside, and I can get you a big ol’ pint.”

“Works for me,” Tipsy shrugged casually. She looked back at Ziggy, who seemed preoccupied with trying to murder and-slash-or eat a fly that had landed on his eggs. “Are you done here, Ziggy?”

Ziggy froze, like a deer in front of a carriage.

“Why would you call me out in front of the lady?!,” Ziggy half whispered and half shouted, so it was said in a normal, if slightly strange volume, “I’m trying to keep my head low. Shut up.”

You know what, fuck it. “Okay, fine then, walk to the Marigold yourself and get your feet dirty!”

She had enough of the feast, anyways. Tipsy strolled through sturdy oak doors into the tavern, eyes immediately relax upon seeing the dimmer lighting and the beautiful, beautiful pink waiting for her. Clover gave a polite smile, but watched her carefully.

“Ow-watch it, gold man!”

Tipsy turned. Apparently the rest of the party had decided it was also time to head inside, with Ziggy hitching a ride on Elowen’s shoulders. He shot a smug, pointed look at Tipsy.

“Should we head to the private rooms?” Tipsy asked.

“The private roOh! Right, I just saw Rowan and Fallon head in. The rooms are just back over there, behind the double doors.” Clover motioned to the far back of the inn, where sure enough, a nondescript set of doors. It was funny, as Tipsy vaguely recalled seeing those doors, when she and Ziggy had first settled on a spot in the bar where they all first met. Where they all...first met….

Tipsy took a couple steps forward, about to eagerly sip down her drink, but paused just before glass met mouth.

“Did you tell anyone, anyone at all, when, you know,” Tipsy motioned back to the private rooms, “The reservation was made?”

“No, no, it’s all me.” Clover shook her head.

Tipsy furrowed her brow. “Not a soul?”

Clover carefully stood out from behind the bar, concern clearly written in her features. “It’s just me and my books that run this inn.”

“When was the reservation made? For Rowan and Fallon?” Elowen asked, catching on to the conversation topic.

“I’d say it’s only been...hm...well, I got a courier letter about a week or two ago. Was officially sealed and everything, didn’t look like it was opened.” Clover answered honestly, frowning. Elowen sighed, and tugged at the feathers of his helmet.

“A courier letter, huh...” He trailed off.

“Why don’t we just ask Fallon this?” Radan sounded annoyed and apathetic. An interesting combo, that.

“Aight.”

Tipsy began to chug her ale. By the time she reached the double doors, kicking them open, her glass was empty. She carelessly slid it onto the closest nearby table, heart almost freezing when she realized how close the damn glass was to the edge of the table, but relaxing when she saw it stop. Eh, if it crashed after that it wasn’t her problem.

The hallway was long and narrow, surviving the brunt of the fires to showcase ornate red wallpaper on either side. There were three doors, two to either side and one at the far end, cracked open with light inside. With slight hesitation, Tipsy opened the doors.

It was a long room, fit for maybe twenty people. Rowan sat hunched over, arms crossed, looking at Fallon, who had his legs casually propped up on the table, a thin, twisting crown that resembled branches perched on his head.

“That’s a bit pretentious, don’t you think?” Tipsy shot a look. A crown. Really?

“Oh, this lil’ ol’ thing?” Fallon giggled, “I quite like it.”

“I can tell.”

She took a seat, Jay taking one just next to her, an eyebrow raised as the mime took in the new look. All the nervousness of before seemed to have vanished; he appeared more like a proper prince now, and by that Tipsy meant an absolute twat.

Beetle sauntered right over to Fallon and Rowan, taking a seat not in a chair but on the table. “There are my two favorite people! Oooh, love the new look Fallon, I wonder what changed.”

Tipsy looked a little closer. Fallon’s eyes were a little dulled down, she supposed, not glowing like before. Must of put those contacts in, from the disguise kit.

“Ehehe, dashing as ever!” Fallon gestured for the rest of the party to sit down.

Like a true knight of Hammershire, Elowen thumped down into a chair, sighed, pulled his knees up to his chest with a horrible scraping sound, and wrapped his arms around his legs. Ziggy glared at Tipsy, sticking out his tongue, remaining on the paladin’s shoulders. Tipsy frowned, and as petty as she usual was, turned to Jay.

“Hey, look,” she whispered, “I just wanna like, show ‘em up I guess, so can you like, get on my back? I mean, no problem if you don’t wanna, but I just, he’s being a real ass right now and-”

Wordlessly (although, Jay was always wordless so…), Jay jumped onto Tipsy’s shoulders, pulling out a few tiny ballbearings and juggling them absentmindedly. Tipsy made direct eye contact with Ziggy, who seemed both in awe and in complete jealousy, and finally turned back the prince.

Head on his hands, Fallon began to speak. “First of all, thank you for saving the townsfolk of Belimar and myself, it really means a lot to me.”

“Of course,” Elowen nodded, “If people are in danger, I have an obligation to save them no matter what. I’m honored that I could have helped.”

“I would also like to thank you for putting up with my friend over here.” Fallon winked at Rowan, who rolled his eyes.

“He only called me a prat once,” Elowen chuckled, “So I think I can deal with it.”

“Oh really? That’s interesting, he’s usually much more vulgar,” Fallon cast another glance at Rowan, whose face was going a dark red as he sat back in his chair, curled up into himself, “Well, first of all, I would like to offer you all two hundred gold each for saving me.”

“Holy shit!” Tipsy covered her mouth, stunned. The cost of fifteen villagers’ lives were the same as the life of one prince, on the spirits.

“And I thought Rowan was Jay’s sugar daddy...” Radan mumbled, just under their breath. Not quietly enough, though, as Fallon snorted indignantly.

“I’m actually Rowan’s sugardaddy, so, you know.” Fallon wrapped a lock of hair around his finger. Rowan, meanwhile, had resorted to staring at the individual specs of dirt on the floor. Beetle imeddiately began to laugh, Tipsy entirely unsure whether he was forcing his laughter or if it was real, and leaned in close to Fallon.

“Got room for one more?” Beetle asked, licking his lips.

Fallon raised an eyebrow. “I dunno, what are you offering?”

Beetle leaned in closer.

“Anything.”

Rowan had now resorted to staring at the individual grooves on the table.

Fallon thought for a second, lips pursed. “I’ll get back to you. Anyways, second of all, I would like to replace any equipment of yours that got burned or destroyed or...”

Jay held up her singed barefoot.

“Yeah, I can replace that, sure.” Fallon went from cringing to smiling prettily at Beetle, “I know of a great craftsman, one of the best in Erora, who can fix you up with a new lute.”

The bard did not cry when a bunch of kobolds came into town and nearly killed him.

The bard did not cry when he got hit with a mysterious ancient spell and faced off against a dragon.

But the promise of a new lute?

Beetle’s eyes became suspiciously watery. “You’re too good to me.” He chocked, wiping away a few stray tears.

“...Don’t know if I want the king’s money.” Radan grumbled.

“Well, if the king’s money is not something you want,” Fallon gave a devious little smirk, “Maybe I can offer you something different.”

“Like what?”

Fallon grinned, showing off pearly chompers-Radan had fallen for his trick hook line and sinker. “As I’m sure Rowan had mentioned yesterday, we came into Belimar to pick up some champions for a festival happening in Greymouth later this month. And...unfortunatley,” his tone got more serious, “All of those contestants were killed.”

Tipsy’s mind flashed to the lovers.

Gods…

“We were going to meet up the night of the attack, and that obviously didn’t happen.” Fallon gritted his teeth, fidgeting a little.

Rowan picked it up from there. “Yeah, so, we’re in a bit of a pickle right now. The tournament is less than a couple of days away, and Fallon was told-more so ordered-to find a team, and have them compete.”

Somehow, Tipsy got the subtle inkling that this wasn’t the answer Radan wanted. Maybe it was by the way they were hunched over, or their hitched breath, or the fact that literally everything about their body language right now screamed horribly uncomfortable and about to throw hands.

“Well,” Elowen slowly straightened his back, legs back on the floor now, “That really sucks, huh. Good luck!”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know if you’re aware, but I’m not really welcome in Greymouth.” Radan rubbed their temple.

“Aww, come on, it’ll be fun-I’m down to go to Greymouth,” Beetle winked, “I have no problem with that.”

“Sorry,” Tipsy sputtered, trying to regain some semblance of order in the quickly spiraling conversation, “Can you, uh, just, a little more about this tournament?”

Rowan nodded. “The tournament, of course-”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Fallon waved his hand around, cutting Rowan off completely, “So, the tournament. First off, I don’t need all of you. I only need, say, four teammates-there’s only four events. And I bet you would all be very interested in the prize...”

“Tell me what the events are first.” Radan practically growled, a slight intensity overtaking their usual casual demeanor.

“Let’s see...we have a feat of strength, an archery competition, a slight of hand competition, and the last one, well,” Fallon shrugged, “The last one’s a mystery, I haven’t the slightest idea what the fourth event could be.”

“I hope it’s a Make Ironhaven Look Like a Goddamn Fool competition.” Elowen sneered.

Fallon rolled his eyes, though his irises seemed to glow just a touch brighter than before. “We do that plenty on our own.”

“You do.”

“So…,” Tipsy’s mind was sent reeling. An archery competition? A slight of hand? A feat of fucking strength? “Essentially, you’re asking us, a bunch of random nobodies, the only one here who has done anything remotely worthwhile to society being a paladin of, essentially, an enemy country, and you want us to go in front of hundreds, if not thousands of people, and you, prince Fallon, want us to get our skulls cracked open and embarrass ourselves in front of everyone.”

She wasn’t even aware of Jay hopping off her shoulders until she noticed Jay glaring, now seated next to Radan. What did Tipsy say?

“Or,” Fallon held up a single finger, “I offer you the chance to live comfortably. I offer you the chance to get exposure, really get your name out there. And I haven’t even mentioned the grand prize, which is a meager, eh, I’d say ten thousand gold coin and an estate in your name.”

Her jaw fell to the floor.

“Deal,” Beetle nodded like a goddamn bobblehead, “I was already in, but now I’m like, super in.”

“How many people did you say were gonna be there…?” Ziggy narrowed his eyes in deep contemplation. Ah, hells, of course Ziggy was gonna be interested in the tournament.

Fallon leaned back. “I’d say close to around ten thousand people.”

Ziggy pursed his lips up, and tilted his head to the side, deep in thought. “Coming from many different places?”

“From all around Ironhaven, certainly,” Fallon paused for a moment, “Maybe even some others as well. I know some of my superiors who have chosen teams did ask outside in neighboring allies, and I can assure you, you will be very known around Ironhaven.”

“Ah, that’s exactly what I want!” Elowen slammed his hand into the table, voice full of false pep, “Hooray, Elowen! Ironhaven’s hero.”

Radan went through several expressions, all of them bad. “How about,” they said after some consideration, “We let Ziggy an’ Jay an’ Beetle an’ Tipsy do their thing, aaaaand me an’ Elowen will just not! We’ll just not.”

“I never said I was gonna do this.” Tipsy grumbled.

“Must be interested in the prize, at least.” Radan gave a weak smile. Tipsy rolled her eyes, but the faun was right. Ten thousand gold...as much as she didn’t deserve it, that’d be enough to set her for life.

Sensing the rising tension again, the room a smidge colder than before, Rowan leaned over to Elowen. “I know you have your own business.”

“I did say that,” Elowen nodded, “But listen to me very carefully.”

Her blood turned to ice in her veins as Elowen stood, towering above the prince and his guard. Fallon kept smiling, eyes beginning to glow, just like before; and the cold in the room couldn’t just be a figment of her imagination, as she saw Beetle’s teeth chattering, and Jay’s puffs of breath.”

“I’m. Not. Fucking. Fighting. For. Your. Goddamned. Country.”

Elowen stopped.

“Are we clear?” He asked sweetly, as if he hadn’t just near-threatened the prince of a nation.

Fallon narrowed his eyes, almost challenging Elowen. It was a contest Elowen refused to break from, as the knight completely refused to sit down, claws slowly digging into the table.

“Listen here, Elowen the Valiant,” Fallon spat with venom laced in every word, “I know that Ironhaven is not at its greatest right now, with my father in charge. But what I do not need you to do is insult my people, and my country. I am trying as best as I can to get us out of this shithole, and the last thing I need is more outsiders coming in and blaming it on my people.”

This was, in hindsight, a mistake. Elowen’s claws grew-literally grew, no denying that, as he dug his fingers into the table his claws began to extend and his armor almost seemed to puff up, like a bird of prey trying to scare of another beast. He shoved his face mere inches away from Fallon’s, the room going so cold Tipsy almost couldn’t stand it. Briefly, she saw Ziggy, pleading for held as he trembled, either from fear of Elowen or the bitter cold in the room, but Tipsy couldn’t do anything, she could hardly even breath.

“I will start respecting your people when you stop killing mine,” Elowen growled, “Don’t play this game with me, prince. I know your people mean a lot to you, but they are not the ones being murdered.”

Fallon’s face was blank. He looked at Elowen, and down to his claws, dug deep into the wood now, cracking and splintering the table, then leaned back in his chair.

“Fine,” Fallon said casually, “Don’t participate in the tournament, that’s fine by me, I only need four. But, I would be a fool if I didn’t ally myself with one of the last great paladins left standing, and push you away, so...so. I would like to offer you the chance to start an alliance with me, and the people I know, to help put an end to this.”

Elowen took a deep breath. His claws shrank back, and he slowly sat down, as if he hadn’t been transforming into some kind of armored beast just a second ago. “I would be very interested in that. And like I said earlier, I would offer you my fullest protection. I believe that you are very valuable to both my people and yours, and keeping you alive-”

Tipsy tried not to dwell on the implications there.

“-Would most certainly be in my best interest. But I will tell you now, Hammershire will always come for me, and if I, at any point, feel that my country is going to be more endangered by your actions than saved, I will not hesitate to turn on you.”

He stopped.

“But as long as our interests align,” Elowen must’ve been smiling under his helmet, not that anyone could tell, “I will consider you a valuable ally.”

Delicately, Elowen took Fallon’s hand. He shook it, and then pressed the lower half of his helmet against the top of the hand, in some attempt to mimic a kiss.

The chill in the air dissipated. “I consider this the start to a great partnership.” Fallon said, nodding absentmindedly.

Rowan, who had been watching all this go down with a nervous look in his eyes, cleared his throat. “Erm, anyway, we were planning on leaving in the morning. Would you like to accompany us back? Since we’re all heading the same way.”

“That would be most convenient.” Elowen tapped against his leg, only sounding like he was halfheartedly listening at best.

Ten thousand…Tipsy frowned. “Well-”

“Yes?” Rowan looked over.

“Ah, never mind,” Tipsy shook her head, “It’s not important, continue on.”

Rowan wouldn’t drop it. “We have time now, speak your mind.”

Tipsy sighed, and leaned forward. “Will anyone from Dunefold be there?”

“Not that I know of, no,” Rowan started, “Dunefold’s been pretty silent at the moment, and we aren’t exactly on great terms with them at the moment.”

“Good.”

Jay looked alarmed as Tipsy spoke, and frankly Tipsy was alarmed at herself.

Elowen mustn’t of been paying much attention, though, as perhaps if he had heard her words he wouldn’t have snapped his fingers together and cheerfully proposed, “Why not after the tournament, we make a quick stop there? I have some unfinished business in Dunefold. Perhaps we can work something out with them. Hammershire was in the middle of forging an alliance with Dunefold when I left, they would make powerful allies.”

And Tipsy

Saw

Her.

“Dunefold!?,” she stood up so fast the chair fell over, “No! You can’t-you can’t just go to fuckin’ Dunefold, why would you ever want to go there!?”

“Well I-”

“You-you can’t-I-FUCK IT!”

Tipsy stormed to the door, biting down on her lip. She spun around, unsure where her eyes just felt like acid or if she was actually going to cry again, and looked a surprised Fallon directly.

“I’ll do your damn tournament, but just-just-give me a bit.”

She walked out. She walked out right past Clover, up the stairs, back to the same goddamn room she had just destroyed because she was so STUPID and she was so CARELESS and she was so she was so she was so SHE WAS SO-

“There’s better techniques to calm yourself down, you know.”

Surrounded by broken splinters of an already destroyed room, head submerged in a basin of water with no intentions to let herself back up to breath until instinct took over, Tipsy screamed, a smirking goddess waiting by the side.