43. Your Seat Is Saved
Chapter forty-three
Your Seat Is Saved
Ronan
Micah's place is exactly where it always is.
I made sure of that when I made sure the table was ready, although calling it a deliberate gesture feels more significant than it is.
He sits beside Cami because that is where he sits.
His black dice tray goes slightly to the right of his character sheet because he prefers enough room to write without knocking into it.
His mechanical pencil is across the top of the page, and his miniature is already on the map with the others.
There is also a paper bag of cinnamon-sugar dough knots beside his place.
That part is technically less routine, but only because I usually order one serving for the table instead of two. Micah likes them more than everyone else does, and this week seems like a particularly poor time to make him fight Dex for dessert.
Three days ago, Micah told his parents the truth about his life and lost most of his biological family in the span of a few hours.
Today is Thursday.
We play Dungeons & Dragons on Thursdays.
Those facts do not cancel each other out.
There are several ways I could handle tonight badly.
I could ask Micah whether he feels up to playing, which would require him to decide whether his grief has made him sufficiently inconvenient to alter everyone else's plans.
I could offer to cancel, which would do essentially the same thing while pretending to be generous.
I could tell everyone else to be careful with him, which would guarantee that four people who are already watching him too closely become unbearable.
I could also rewrite the entire session into some painfully obvious allegory about belonging, loyalty, chosen family, or wicked relatives who fail a morality check.
Micah would recognize what I was doing within five minutes.
He might kill me.
I would deserve it.
Instead, I made three minor changes to an encounter I planned six days ago, shortened one section that was likely to drag, and added an alternate route through the aqueduct because Micah generally prefers having more than one way to solve a problem.
Then I ordered pizza.
That is the extent of my therapeutic intervention.
Dex opens the first box and immediately announces, “Wild card,” with the reverence of someone revealing a sacred artifact.
Griffin looks over from the counter, where he is distributing drinks. “Did you expect something else?”
“No. I just appreciate consistency.”
“You weren’t this excited the first time Ronan ordered it.”
“The first time, I had not yet grown as a person.”
“You called it a crime against crust,” Micah says.
His voice is quieter than usual, although quiet is a relative measurement with Micah. Most people probably would not notice the difference. I do.
So does Dex.
He points across the table. “And now I defend it with my life. Character development.”
Micah's mouth moves slightly.
Not a smile exactly, but the beginning of one.
Cami notices too, because she has spent most of the last three days finding reasons to be physically attached to him. She reaches around his shoulder for a slice of pizza even though there is an entire box closer to her, then leaves her hand resting briefly against his back as she sits down.
It is not subtle.
Cami rarely is.
Micah has not objected.
That is probably the only reason the rest of us have resisted telling her to stop hovering.
Dex sits across from them and reaches for Micah’s paper bag of sugary madness. “I was informed these are communal.”
Micah opens the top, looks inside, then looks at him. “They're not.”
Dex places a hand over his heart. “Wow.”
“You have your own.”
“That has nothing to do with the principle.”
“What principle?”
Dex considers this for several seconds. “I haven't decided yet.”
This time Micah actually smiles.
Small. Brief. Real.
Dex sees it and, to his credit, does not react like he has accomplished anything.
I take my seat behind the screen before anyone can ruin the moment by acknowledging it.
Once everyone has food, dice, character sheets, and whatever assortment of drinks they have decided qualify as campaign provisions, I open my notebook.
“Alright. When we stopped last week, you had finally crossed the northern wastes with an artifact that at least three unpleasant organizations would like to remove from your possession, preferably after removing several necessary parts of your bodies first.”
Dex lifts one finger.
“No.”
His hand stays up. “You don't know the question.”
“I know you.”
Cami laughs into her soda.
Dex lowers his hand with exaggerated dignity. “Continue, tyrant.”
“You've reached the ruins of Vael Toren.
The main road through the old city collapsed approximately two hundred years ago, so you have two practical options.
You can take a three-day detour through territory currently occupied by the faction that's been following you since Easthaven, or you can use the old aqueduct system beneath the city.”
“Aqueduct,” Griffin says immediately.
Cami nods. “Absolutely aqueduct.”
Micah leans forward to study the map, his attention moving over the streets and broken structures I sketched earlier this week. After a moment, he shakes his head. “Too obvious.”
Dex points toward him. “Sad Boy has spoken.”
The nickname has existed long enough that nobody usually reacts to it.
Tonight, Dex hears himself say it and immediately looks like he would like to pull the words back out of the air.
There is a pause.
Micah lifts his eyes. “And yet I'm still right.”
Dex's shoulders loosen. “That's my broody little murder elf.”
Micah flips him off.
The tension around the table dissipates without anyone needing to discuss why it existed.
“Marching order?” I ask.
“Me first,” Micah says.
“Griffin behind him,” Cami adds.
Griffin nods. “I'll take rear.”
Dex slowly turns toward him.
Griffin closes his eyes. “Don't.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“I know exactly what you were thinking.”
Micah laughs softly.
Dex glances at him, but manages not to look too pleased with himself.
I make a note behind the screen mostly so I have something to do besides smile.
“Micah, make a Perception check.”
He picks up his d20 and rolls without hesitation.
“Eleven.”
“The tunnel is old enough that most of the original stonework is cracked or covered in mineral deposits. There's water around your boots, maybe two inches deep, and you can see disturbed silt ahead, so something has passed through recently. Nothing gives you an obvious direction.”
“I want to look at the walls. See if the construction changes anywhere.”
“Investigation.”
The next die lands badly.
“Four.”
Dex winces. “Rough night for the click-clacks.”
Micah gives him a flat look. “Do you want to roll for me?”
“No. I respect your journey.”
“You're insufferable.”
“That's practically affection.”
“It isn't.”
I let them have another few seconds before continuing.
“You find a section where the masonry changes, but whatever you're studying has your attention long enough that you don't see the wire running low across the passage until your boot catches it.”
Micah's eyes narrow. “Dexterity save?”
“Yes.”
He rolls.
Seven.
Cami mutters, “Fuck.”
Originally, the trap involved six blades, a collapsing section of floor, and enough damage to make the beginning of the session considerably more annoying than entertaining.
That was excessive even when I wrote it.
Tonight, it would be stupid.
“The wire pulls tight, and you hear something release inside the wall. A blade swings from a narrow slot at waist height, and another follows from the opposite side.”
I make the attack rolls behind the screen.
“Eight slashing damage.”
Micah marks it down. “Could be worse.”
“It is.”
He looks at me.
“A dart shoots from the opposite wall and catches Griffin in the shoulder.”
Griffin sighs. “Of course it does.”
“Five piercing damage. Constitution save.”
“Why?”
“Because I enjoy when you ask questions you already know the answer to.”
He rolls.
“Eighteen.”
“You feel something burn around the wound, but your body manages to shake it off before the poison does anything meaningful.”
Dex leans across the table. “Strong immune system. Very sexy.”
Griffin points at the map. “Play your bard.”
“I am providing morale.”
Cami is already looking at her spell sheet. “Can I use Healing Word on Micah?”
“You can.”
She turns toward him rather than me. “You good with that?”
Micah nods. “Please.”
Her healing roll is mediocre but useful.
She gives him back enough hit points to make the mistake inconvenient instead of dangerous, and then they continue.
Nobody tells Micah it isn't his fault.
They don't need to.
He missed a trap. The party took damage. They adapted and kept moving.
That is the game.
More importantly, nobody decides that one failed roll means he should stop going first.
By the time they reach the cistern, Micah has settled more.
Cami is still pressed against his side whenever she can reasonably manage it, Dex is making a concerted effort to irritate him from across the table, and Griffin has apparently decided everyone's emotional regulation is not his problem as long as nobody is actively bleeding.
A healthy development.
The cistern contains four mercenaries, a mage, and one additional problem beneath the water that none of the characters have noticed.
Dex notices the expression on my face instead.
“Why are you smiling?”
I stop.
“I wasn't.”
“You absolutely were.”
Cami looks at me suspiciously. “Oh, that's bad.”
Griffin moves his miniature closer to hers. “I want to stay near Cami.”
I look at him. “You're all very predictable.”
“I have a job.”
“You're a paladin.”
“Exactly.”
Dex gestures toward him. “He understands branding.”
Initiative is rolled.
Micah goes first.
Dex goes last.
He stares at the three showing on his die as though it has personally betrayed him.
Cami pats his forearm. “Maybe we'll survive long enough to participate.”
“I don't appreciate clerical bullying.”
Micah doesn't look up from his sheet. “You'll live.”
Dex freezes.