Chapter 24
Alsen barely recognized himself.
The tailor had done extraordinary work in a short time, motivated by the generous handful of gems Alsen dropped on his counter.
The result was a deep blue doublet over a white linen shirt, dark trousers that actually fit, and leather boots so new they squeaked.
The doublet had subtle silver threading along the collar and cuffs, enough to signal wealth without screaming it.
He studied his reflection in the shop’s bronze mirror.
The face looking back still belonged to this world’s body, younger and sharper than his old one, but with his soul behind the eyes, the expression had settled into something more comfortable.
The charisma stats didn’t change his appearance. They changed how he carried it.
He looked good. For the first time since arriving in this world, he actually looked good. He went to meet Arleria for what definitely wasn’t a date.
The Silver Antler occupied the second floor of a stone building near the merchant quarter.
Its entrance was marked by a carved wooden antler painted in actual silver, mounted above a door flanked by two lanterns that burned with a steady, expensive white light.
Enchanted, Alsen noted, and not in the easy way.
Someone had paid real money for ambient lighting.
Or, the owner did it himself.
He arrived early. The host, a thin man with immaculate posture, looked him over with moderate interest. No recognition, but the clothes faked just enough status. “I’m here for Arleria’s reservation,” Alsen said.
“Of course, sir. This way.”
With a faint smirk, Alsen followed him.
The interior matched the entrance. Dark wood, white tablecloths, candles on every table, the kind of place that he expected to serve a bit of food on many plates. A quiet murmur of conversation filled the room, wealthy merchants and minor nobility speaking in the measured tones.
The waiter led Alsen to a table near the back, partially screened by a lattice partition. Three chairs awaited, prepared around the table, so there would be a third wheel to their date.
He sat, ordered a glass of whatever the waiter recommended, and waited.
Arleria arrived a few minutes later.
She wore a complex dress. The first time he’d seen her out of adventuring gear, the effect nearly broke his composure.
Dark green fabric that caught the candlelight, cut to suggest rather than reveal, with a high collar that framed her neck.
Her hair fell past her shoulders in loose waves.
She’d done something to her eyes, some cosmetic or minor glamour, that made them catch light.
She spotted him and smiled. A small one, controlled, but real. The waiter led her to him.
“You clean up well,” she said, approaching the seat across from him.
“It’s a rare occasion among all the traveling.” He pulled her chair out before the host could. The charisma nudged him into the gesture with the ease of something rehearsed a thousand times, even though he’d never done it in his life.
Arleria acknowledged the gesture with a tilt of her head.
“The reservation is for three. We’re expecting a Lord Edric Halthorn.
He’s a minor nobleman with significant holdings in the northern trade routes, who has somehow managed to get close to Verathras.
He’s been looking for adventurers to handle a problem in the mountain passes. ”
“A job interview over dinner?”
“Everything is a job interview if you’re ambitious enough.
” She leaned closer, lowering her voice.
“Edric is cautious. He’s been burned by adventurers before.
Groups that took his money and either failed or ran.
He needs to be convinced that we’re worth the investment, and more importantly, that we’ll actually finish the job. ”
“What’s my expected role in this? Aside from tending to your personal amusement, of course.”
She chuckled. “What’s more convincing than a mage? Two mages.” Her eyes held his. “He has been doubtful of our group’s strength. When working for the dragon, a failure isn’t an option, so a group that isn’t far beyond the job’s expected difficulty isn’t enough.”
Turned out Alsen’s stunt at the adventurer’s guild brought more benefits than he expected it to. “I see.” Alsen leaned back. “This will be a great evening, then.”
“Hopefully, not only professionally.” The almost-smile returned. “You’re also here because I enjoy your company, if I am allowed to be honest for a second. The job still is the priority, though.”
“Money only always comes first.” The waiter finally brought him a drink, which looked fancily named wine with some extra cinnamon.
She studied him for a moment, the same intense focus she’d given the vase earlier that day. “You’re different from earlier. At much more ease.”
“I’ve had time to settle.” He smiled. “And the bath and fresh clothes helped too. I had a rough night last night, so the morning didn’t do me well.”
She arched an eyebrow. “A rough night?”
“I was attempting to access the Pellicle through drugging myself. Admittedly, I succeeded at the latter, not at the former.”
Arleria’s focus sharpened. She clearly recognized the word Pellicle. “We will continue this discussion after the professional part.” She motioned with her head toward the door.
A waiter already led a man toward them. Lord Edric didn’t measure much in any dimension.
A compact man in his fifties with gray-streaked hair combed back precisely, wearing subtly expensive clothes.
His hands looked soft, like those of an office worker, except that in a medieval world, that was an achievement.
He had two rings, one signet, one plain gold.
No visible weapons, but Alsen sensed a faint magical signature from the signet ring. A protective ward, probably.
The waiter stopped a few steps away, letting Lord Edric approach alone. “Lady Arleria.” Edric took her hand briefly. His voice was measured, careful, weighing every word before it was spoken. “But I do not recognize the gentleman. Is that a new member of your party?”
“Yes,” Arleria said, lying with perfection. “He’s an extremely talented mage focused on direct destruction. He complements me perfectly, and represents a massive increase in our party’s overall power.”
Alsen stood and shook Edric’s hand. He pushed just enough power into his own hand so that even a commoner could feel it when touching him.
Edric’s eyes widened slightly. They both sat down.
The pleasantries started. Alsen somewhat paid attention, intuitively handling the conversation that Arleria carried, anyway. They ordered food, more wine, discussed weather, trade routes, adventuring, and politics.
Alsen spent about a third of his attention on it and two-thirds on Arleria. She looked even better up close, dressed up, and arranged. She had such a cute mouth, and his mind couldn’t help himself but imagine all the sweet things she could do with it.
The topic of his adventures came up. Alsen told them an appropriately enhanced story of his travels with Garrett’s group.
He dropped no names, also leaving out Sonja’s death.
Rather, he focused on how many constructs there were and how he blew them up, together with rock bears and the architect and the linguistic puzzle.
That kept both of their attention.
Alsen really liked the way Arleria looked at him. In all the ways.
After the meal came the pitch. He finished the steak, whatever meat it may have been from, and once the waiter cleared the table, Arleria brought up the job. “A mage as capable as Alsen is indeed a true blessing for our party. With him, we will complete your job with effortless ease.”
Lord Edric’s expression turned a notch more serious. “I do not doubt that. Yet, at the same time, I question the potential risks. There would be five of you with him, you two, Derell, Malick, and Kern. An impressive group, but a rather smaller one, and without a healer.”
“A healer isn’t necessary when all obstacles get annihilated with overwhelming magical power,” Alsen said. “For more subtle situations, detection magic still cheats out most of them.” And for everything else, there was Luna. He didn’t want to bring her up now, though.
“Indeed,” Arleria joined in. “A smaller group also moves faster, more efficiently, and requires a smaller payment than a horde of twenty adventurers. Not to mention, we are readily available to be at your disposal.”
Edric stared at his glass. “It is true that there is a budget for every operation. This one also requires a precise hand, for a part of it might turn into a rescue.”
“Which is where my specialization comes in,” Arleria said, smiling. “You can accuse me of many things, but a lack of subtlety cannot be one.”
“I suppose.” The lord flashed his own smile. “Let us talk numbers, then.”
The negotiation over details broke out. Alsen left most of it to Arleria.
She spent over an hour haggling with the lord.
The budget turned out to be in thousands of gold, which sufficed.
They settled on departing on the morning three days from now.
An entire pile of conditions got arranged, too, but Alsen mostly ignored that.
They finished the negotiations by ordering a dessert. By the time dessert arrived, something dense and sweet involving honey and nuts, Edric had agreed to the final terms.
Arleria and her group, which now included Alsen, would clear out the mountain pass, find whatever attacked caravans in there, also find tracks of the vanished drakes, and rescue them, if possible.
After the dessert, Edric shook both their hands. “I look forward to results,” he said, and left with the contained satisfaction of a man who had found what he was looking for.
The table fell quiet.
Arleria exhaled. It was the first unguarded moment he’d seen from her all evening. She picked up her wine, took a long sip, and set it down. “That went well.”
“You were brilliant.”
“I was prepared. There’s a difference in the method.” But the smile she gave him was softer than any she’d shown in Edric’s presence. “Thank you for the help. He’ll remember you.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” He smiled. “To make sure the evening goes great for you.”
She chuckled, faintly blushing. “The evening has stretched a bit. How about we meet tomorrow to discuss the Pellicle in greater detail. The discussion has drained me more than I would have liked it to.”
Meh. He was hoping for a whole lot more. But she did sound a touch tired, and pressing her had no obvious benefit.
The candlelight caught her eyes, and the guarded intelligence behind them had loosened into something warmer. “Would you walk me back to my inn? The streets here are awfully dangerous at night.”
They left the Silver Antler together, the bill already paid by the lord.
The night air welcomed them, the moon high in the sky.
The hour had progressed more than Alsen realized.
The streets of Vellhorn’s merchant quarter were quiet now, the vendors packed up, the cobblestones slick with evening dew.
Lanterns hung from iron brackets, casting pools of amber across the stone.
They walked close enough that their arms brushed.
“So,” Alsen said. “If the job’s confirmed, shall I take it that I will come with your group?”
“I hope that’s not too much of an inconvenience. The lord will see us depart, so at minimum, I need you to come with us and not return to Vellhorn before we do.”
“I will be honored to join your group on this quest.”
“Good. Malick and Kern will warm up to you. Derell won’t, but Derell doesn’t warm up to anyone. He’ll respect your abilities, and that’s enough.”
“And you?”
“What about me?”
“Have you warmed up to me, or do you merely respect my abilities?”
She laughed, deeply, more than what social reflex demanded. “I think you already know the answer to that.”
He did, or so he thought, at least. Every signal, every micro-expression, every glance that lasted a beat too long. She liked him. Not just as a mage, not just as a useful addition to her group. She liked him. And he really liked her back.
They stopped at the corner where their paths diverged. Her inn was east. His was south.
“Thank you for tonight,” Arleria said. “I haven’t enjoyed a dinner this much in quite some time.”
“Neither have I.”
She stepped closer. Close enough that he could smell the faint herbal note of whatever she wore. She put her hand on his arm, squeezed once, and held his gaze for a moment that lasted longer than words. Then she pulled away.
“Tomorrow,” she said. “Come find me at the guild. We have planning to do and the Pellicle to discuss.”
“I’ll be there.”
She turned and walked east. He watched her go until she turned the corner, the green dress disappearing into the lamplit street.
Alsen stood there for a while, the evening air cool against his face, his heart doing things it hadn’t done in years. Maybe decades, if he counted his old life. The city hummed around him, and for once, every sound in it seemed pleasant.
He walked back to the inn in a state that could generously be called dreamy and honestly be called stupid.
The streets blurred past. He replayed the dinner, the way she’d laughed, the warmth of her slender hand on his arm.
His mind circled it all with the obsessive focus of a man who had spent most of his life caring about mana flow and spell theory, and was only now discovering that there were things in the world that hit harder than magic.
The inn appeared in front of him. He walked in, nodded at the barkeep without registering them, and climbed the stairs.
He opened the door to his room. It was dark. He walked in, pulled off his boots, dropped the doublet over a chair, and fell into the bed. The sheets were cold. He didn’t care. He stared at the ceiling, smiled like an idiot, and fell asleep within minutes.