She might have been freed from the Unbreakable Image and the constant peril she endured, but her subconscious plainly hadn’t adapted at all. She was less than surprised to learn that she was still only able to sleep for the bare minimum. She even tried abandoning the cot and laying on the floor with the blanket instead—which felt more natural—but she couldn’t make herself fall asleep again.

  Eventually, she gave up and put on another clean tunic and left her room.

  The Sentinel-controlled compound was plainly built by Reman military sensibilities. It was like a wooden, simplified replica of their Headquarters back in Ariminum. There were oddly few rooms that had windows in them, but inscriptions—or possibly someone’s Skill—kept the air fresh and pleasant… though, even as she thought about the oddity, an explanation came to mind. Sentinel Night probably needed to avoid windows so he could move through the building by day.

  Knowing secrets kind of sucked the fun out of life.

  One of the rare rooms that had actual windows was the large meeting room that had been claimed by her people as a place to hang out. The staff kept an assortment of food on the tables in the back and Ranthia entered to find a solid 64 or so of the Unbreakable Image’s survivors sitting at tables chatting, playing games, or eating.

  The Subcommander spotted her immediately and was enthusiastically waving her over. She had… mixed feelings. She did legitimately need to speak to him about what Night had told her, but she had also been all too aware of his interest in her. She wasn’t remotely interested in reciprocating—she had even tried telling the man she only was interested in women, but it hadn’t helped. And she was more than a bit worried about what would happen now that she was no longer the woman in charge.

  She still took the invitation, she just paused to grab Paulla and a bowl of soup on the way.

  “Did they really do it?” Her (former, she supposed) Subcommander asked.

  Ranthia fished her new badge out of her new belt and tossed it on the table.

  “Yup, Sentinel Grace.” Ranthia answered before she tasted the soup.

  Oooh spicy, she hadn’t had spicy in ages.

  …Also, who makes spicy soup? Was that a thing? It was oddly hard to remember.

  “Congratulations! It’s well deserved.” Paulla beamed and several—blatantly eavesdropping—others in the room piled on their agreements.

  “Yeah, yeah. Alright, since everyone’s listening anyway—spread the word. I want to have a final meeting this evening, a touch after sundown, to decide something as a group. After, I’ll try and answer any questions anyone has if you’re on the fence about joining up with the Rangers. Also—and I’m kind of talking out of my ass here, but I’ll make it happen if anyone wants—if anyone just wants out and wants to go home, let me know. No pressure and Xaoc knows I won’t judge you for it.” Ranthia called out to the room.

  “Yes ma’am!” Came the chorus of replies.

  Ranthia could only roll her eyes. They knew she wasn’t their leader anymore.

  “So, what are your plans after this, Ranthia?” Lae—nope, she couldn’t do it, he was still Subcommander. Even just him using her name felt weird.

  She was half tempted to insist that he should refer to her as Grace, she had to get used to that someday after all.

  “I have no idea. Worst case there’s got to be a training space in here somewhere.” Ranthia admitted as she continued to enjoy her tasty (but weird) soup.

  “Why not visit the city?” Paulla suggested.

  “Because every last coin I had got turned into armor patches.” Ranthia offered the first excuse that came to mind. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to deal with crowds of strangers; the coalition force had been bad enough.

  “Oh, right, you weren’t there when we got told about the local economy. They don’t use coins here.” The Subcommander shot her excuse down.

  And raised about a hundred and twenty-eight questions.

  “How on Pallos does that work?” Ranthia asked the broadest one first.

  “This city isn’t just humans. Dwarves, gnolls, elves, centaurs, and more are around. Instead of dealing with as many currencies as there are people, the coalition leadership decided to simplify everything. For those of us who have been involved in the war, we get to earn contribution credits that can be exchanged for goods and services in the city. I don’t really know how the rest of it works, but basically after so long in an active base we all have quite a few. So long as we don’t go nuts, we’ll be covered until the next convoy back into Remus.” Paulla explained.

  “Huh, so we get these ‘credits’ just by being in active bases?” Ranthia asked.

  “Yes, but you earn more from doing all sorts of things. I’m expecting to get a big pile for my work on the shimagu language—I handed off everything I had put together earlier. You contributed to that, but you also led a base… and supposedly there’s big bounties for killing twins.” Paulla answered with a grin.

  Ranthia trailed off as she processed that. Plainly Paulla believed that she had more than a small amount of wealth. She was kind of curious to see how far that truly went.

  “If you want, I’d be happy to—” Oh gods the Subcommander was acting shy and nervous.

  Nope.

  Ranthia snatched her badge up and drank the rest of her soup out of the bowl as swiftly as she dared before she stood.

  “Thanks for the information, see you both tonight!” Ranthia called out, cutting the Subcommander off, before she sprinted from the room at speeds just low enough to not cause problems.

  She had a city to explore!

  She had regrets.

  The noise level and crowds were worse than she had imagined.

  As she stiffly wandered the city streets, Ranthia struggled—hard—with her fear that some stranger would attack. Especially since she was without armor. Her War Ranger armor was more destroyed than not. Her personal armor had been consumed to patch it over the years. Even her arcanite vest that she had carried since she was young was gone now. A brand new belt was around her waist, with her pouches of arcanite, divvied out from the sack she had stolen from the troll. She, of course, had her adamantium and even carried the remaining shaft of the spear that she hadn’t yet bonded with through [Adamantium Symbiosis] in a holster on her belt, like a club.

  She still felt vulnerable in her tunic. Paranoia was awful, even when she knew it was nothing but stupid concerns. She found herself avoiding larger crowds—anything to avoid being forced to brush up against another person. She had to hope that any pickpockets had the sense to check her level—she was pretty sure if someone tried to steal anything off of her she’d end up killing them before her rational thoughts could catch up.

  She shouldn’t have left the building.

  The war had left its mark on her. Part of her actually felt guilty at leaving the lines of combat before the shimagu threat was ended. As if she, somehow, hadn’t earned a break after fighting for years beyond what she was supposed to. She just had to keep reminding herself that the war wouldn’t end overnight, that she—and everyone else—needed breaks sometimes. She wasn’t just a killer.

  The idea of coming out into the city and seeing the culture of a blended city with numerous different peoples had sounded wonderful until she was there. She even, allegedly, had a fair fortune in contribution credits. Yet she wasn’t convinced she could make herself relax long enough to use any of it or even enjoy the sights.

  Ranthia wandered until she found herself immersed in the crowds at an open-air market near the wall. The crowds weren’t too dense, so she decided to press forward, relying on her stats to deftly avoid people—lest she ended up accosting someone over lightly jostling her.

  Which was ridiculous. It was a safe city. At least two healers had to verify every single person that was there. There was supposedly an anti-parasitic aura that covered the entire city. Coalition soldiers served as guards when they weren’t out fighting, to earn extra contribution credits. The base was, arguably, probably harder for the shimagu to infiltrate than any city in Remus was.

  She was safe.

  Yet she didn’t believe it for a moment.

  Ranthia completed two circuits of the market without paying any real attention to the other stalls; she had already seen a stall she planned to visit. She had spotted it almost as soon as she arrived in the market. She just… wasn’t sure she remembered how to buy things. Her tunics and new belt had been provided by the Ranger support personnel that were there to serve the Sentinels.

  Finally, she forced herself to approach the extremely attractive elf lady who ran a stall filled with exotic fruits she never saw in Remus. She loved trying new things, even if most fruits were too sweet for her tastes. Still, it had been an age and something juicy sounded refreshing.

  “Hello there! Do you need any help, or do you just want to browse for a bit?” The beautiful blonde asked with a smile.

  Gods, even her voice was gorgeous… Elves were so unfair. Her chaos-granted knowledge that elves were impossible to miss was certainly true.

  “Mmn, got any recommendat—”

  Ranthia trailed off when her eyes found a display box filled with large, bulbous green fruits.

  “Are those…?” She asked instead.

  “Oh! Those are… Hrm. Not sure I know the name in the language of Creation, actually. I mostly grew up speaking the language of my people, but in that language their name is beautiful. It is pronounced…” The overly attractive woman made a musical sound that, somehow, came off as poetry in the form of a single word.

  Ranthia did NOT trust her coarse throat to recreate such beauty. The elven language was plainly some total opposite of the shimagu’s abhorrent tongue. She was even willing to overlook the blasphemy inherent in the elves turning their back on the language the gods provided if they were able to create such beauty.

  “I’ll take one.” Ranthia announced.

  “Sure, I just need your name and ID number, along with a signature. Thank you for your patronage!” The elf picked up a stack of… something.

  “Ra—er, Sentinel Grace.” Gods and goddesses, that still felt weird. The ID number had been given to her by the staff when she let them know she was intending to head into town. She had such an awful head for names, yet she was able to rattle off all eight digits without a hitch.

  Minds were weird.

  The elf hummed to herself as she flipped surprisingly quickly—wait, no, [Artisan – Gemstone] level 768, [Artisan – Arcanite] level 768, [Mage – Spatial] level 681. So, her speed wasn’t as surprising as everything else was. Holy gods and goddesses, how does a [Merchant] get that high?!

  The elf’s magnificent eyebrows briefly looked like they were going to climb off her head before she nodded to herself and set whatever that was down. Her faceted green eyes wandered over Ranthia swiftly, before she returned to the sale.

  “Right, no worries there. Just sign here to authorize the transfer, kindly. Then pick whichever fruit you want.” The elf offered Ranthia a dazzling smile.

  Then she leaned just a bit closer. Oh Xaoc, she even smelled good.

  “Just between you and me, I put the juiciest ones on the bottom. They bruise more easily, so I put smaller fruit on top since it looks prettier.” The incredible woman whispered with a wink.

  Ranthia nearly misspelled ‘Grace’ (there was no s!) out of sudden nerves of an entirely different sort. But she took the beautiful woman’s advice and selected a fruit that was buried deeper in the display.

  She picked it up carefully. It was a fruit with vibrant green skin with natural dark brown spots here and there, along with a few subtle imperfections, and a thick stem. She took a cautious bite. Juice burst from the fruit and dribbled down her chin. Refreshing flavor splashed across her tongue.

  She knew the fruit.

  She had never seen one before.

  But she knew it.

  “A pear!” She cried out.

  “Oh, yes, that is the name in Creation!” The elf excitedly confirmed.

  Ranthia bought a dozen more on the spot.

  The meeting with her people was bittersweet. Tomorrow the other 118 survivors from the Unbreakable Image were to join a convoy returning to Remus. Many of them would enter—and likely break the standards of—the Ranger Academy. Some were going to directly join the Ranger support staff—the vast Ranger Team 0, as they were semi-formally known. A handful intended to return to their families and never leave Remus again. War affected everyone in different ways, and that was fine. She didn’t begrudge anyone their choice.

  The meeting itself was emotional. They were about to part ways, and Ranthia still needed to discuss whether or not to pursue justice for the names on their monument. It wasn’t a matter for the leaders, it impacted each of them. Ranthia tried to relay Night’s position as best as she could, but she was nowhere near as eloquent or reasonable as he was. The arguments proceeded late into the night.

  “24 in favor, 86 against, 8 abstain—and I included the attempt to hit on me as an abstain. Also, I’m married.” One of the staff saluted Ranthia after she finished tallying the results, then made her escape with her role in everything done. The scraps of the scroll Ranthia butchered went with her for disposal.

  And so, they voted against making inquiries against the scouts that had erroneously reported them dead. Ranthia was more than a bit surprised, but part of her was relieved. It wouldn’t change anything. Ruining some brave scout’s career wouldn’t bring their friends and comrades back. Gods, it might not have even mattered—something that Ranthia had only thought of while they were discussing it. The troll’s throwing prowess likely meant that Sentinel Aurora couldn’t have evacuated them. More people might have died had an army tried to reach them before they were strong enough.

  So, yes, she was relieved to know that it was done. Some of her people would be displeased with the result, but they all trusted and respected one another too much to make waves. The anonymous vote ensured there would be fewer grudges too.

  After that, they settled into a farewell party.

  Ranthia made sure to personally say goodbye to each and every man and woman. Some of them she would no doubt see again soon, once she inevitably found herself in Remus. But realistically others would take on lifepaths that would never cross hers again. She had a strong bond with each of them; she would never forget those years spent with them in the Unbreakable Image, not even if she lived for a thousand years—which… she might.

  Okay, partying with her people until it was time for the Sentinel meeting at dawn was probably on the list of bad ideas. Ranthia was a bit drunk, somehow—she would have expected her vitality to render alcohol moot, but apparently there were limits. She was also kind of tired. But she attended.

  Ranthia had expected more follow-up questions about her time at the Unbreakable Image, but apparently the report had already been finalized. She… hadn’t thought she had given enough details for a thorough report, but she wasn’t going to complain about being spared from opening old wounds yet again.

  Instead, the meeting was fairly boring and perfunctory. The most interesting bit was that she was going to remain in Coalition City for the time being. Night wanted her back in Remus for the Ranger Convocation to be presented, and was insisting that she needed to spend at least a year there. Which was fair.

  What wasn’t fair was that she was officially on break until she returned to Remus.

  “I don’t care if Coalition City is on fire. Assume we and our allies have the situation in hand.” Was how one of the older Sentinels put it. He wasn’t one of the ones that had been present when Night made an utter fool of her combat efforts after her first round—only Night was from there. Aurora she knew from her trip to the front lines. The rest… well, she would learn their names eventually. Probably.

  “Wait, there’s such a thing as cloth that can’t be cut?”

  Ranthia was at something called a spa. It, apparently, was basically a brothel that didn’t allow you to have sex with its employees? Being on a break was hell. She felt restless, but no one would allow her to do anything. One of the staff at the compound had recommended the business as a way to relax.

  Ranthia had mixed feelings about it. Getting naked in a pool of salty, hot water while another unfairly beautiful elf scrubbed at her body had felt intensely uncomfortable. The same woman was giving her a massage while they chatted—which was nicer, once Ranthia forced herself to stop being paranoid, even if she was having trouble restraining other thoughts and urges. There was still some sort of fruit and vegetable relaxation treatment to go too.

  But then the lovely elf had dropped a bomb during casual conversation that stole Ranthia’s attention back from her desperate attempts to relax and not lose herself in lewd thoughts (non-brothel massages were dangerous).

  But if this cloth was truly so resilient, she might finally have a solution to her unwanted nudity issues when her armor inevitably took damage! She’d been impatiently waiting for the potential she had planted in [Void-Kissed Wrappings] to bloom—and for something else to merge to give her an open Skill slot—but it hadn’t appeared as of yet. Absent an armor Skill, a layer that could survive meant everything.

  “Never heard of it taking damage, at least. Most attacks pass right through it. It’s common in my hometown. Mistweave is the fabric’s name. It really is beautiful, and you should see what some of our fashion designers can do with it.”

  Ranthia tuned the woman’s lovely voice out and made plans to try to find someone selling the miraculous clothing after she finished at the spa.

  After failing miserably to find leads herself, she decided to ask her favorite fruit merchant pear dealer—after a generous bribe of selflessly buying three pears. The beautiful elf just laughed while she watched Ranthia pick the pears clean of edible bits and told her about an elven tailor in a different area of the city that she was confident carried the material. Ranthia got the directions, memorized them and, after that, the gorgeous (and wise) lady spent what felt like an inordinate amount of time teaching Ranthia how to say the tailor’s name properly. She refused to let Ranthia go until she was able to say it back perfectly three times in a row.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Predictably, Ranthia still left the gorgeous woman with zero idea of what the tailor’s name was. In her defense, she was wildly distracted! But she had a personal rule about never, ever asking women out while they were at work. People at work were focused on their jobs and often needed to be polite and personable when interacting with customers. That requirement made social cues like flirtation complicated—even before the fact that they were different species and had entirely different cultures—and, honestly, it was rude to force a captive audience to hear her advances.

  Didn’t stop Ranthia from grumbling at herself the entire way to the tailor’s shop. She was possibly also daydreaming a bit. At least she hadn’t let herself ask if the woman could feel it when her horns were touched—that was probably weird!

  Gods and goddesses, she could barely withstand being massaged and her stupid mind was already desiring a woman that probably wasn’t even available! She should be thankful for the woman’s fruits and helpfulness.

  The tailor shop was a new wooden building. The tailor, a male elf that was juuust androgynous enough to make Ranthia feel a touch flustered until he opened his mouth, unsurprisingly wasn’t too impressed with a random young woman that was barely armed and wearing a simple tunic claiming she could afford his high prices.

  The contribution credit system (or just the ‘point system’ to most people, it seemed) was, somewhat, on an honor system typically. Even if you had the credits, you could theoretically spend them all, repeatedly, at different merchants if you moved quickly enough. Aside from the tiny fact that trying to defraud a military coalition was something of an incredibly idiotic idea. But, even with that reality check in play, it wasn’t surprising that the more valuable merchants were warier.

  Ranthia waited patiently while a shop assistant checked her name and ID number at a broker (whatever that meant). The man returned white as any linen and suddenly the tailor was excited to serve such an illustrious figure.

  Typical.

  A short time later, Ranthia’s face burned deep crimson as she stared at the garments that the tailor offered her.

  “You cannot be serious!” Ranthia complained in a quiet voice.

  “You requested something that would work under any armor. If you brought the specific armor to me I could custom fit something more… conservative, but these will work under any armor, I guarantee.” The tailor answered with the utmost sincerity.

  Ranthia tried to work out a response. She had wanted something for modesty, but she felt like [Sexy] practically salivated at the idea of wearing that. It was almost as bad as being naked!

  “Unless you’re the sort of [Warrior] that prefers to go into battle bare chested?” The tailor asked quizzically—as if that was the problem!

  Ranthia didn’t think her blush could get any worse than it was. She was wrong.

  In the end, she ordered multiple mistweave garments. The first she would have to wait for, a Remus-style plain white men’s tunic that the tailor seemed to be actively insulted to be asked to make—for a heartbeat there she thought for sure he was going to refuse. Off the rack she purchased a gorgeous two-piece outfit—a dark blue legless bodysuit that offered ample cleavage trimmed in deep green, with a ‘dress’ that was to be worn over it that was a sheer white almost floaty material. The rest of her orders were prepared while she waited. A new deep blue blindfold with silver threads woven through it in elegant patterns—technically a mistweave ribbon he had on hand and could cut down to size. A second blindfold in dark green with gold thread.

  And, yes, she bought two pairs of very skimpy garments that were plainly meant to cover the tips of her chest, what she had between her legs, and very, very little else. One set in light blue and the other in dark green.

  An everyday outfit. A gorgeous outfit for parties—or serious dates—to replace her old garment that had already suffered from its time in storage even the last time she saw it. And new blindfolds that were supposedly almost indestructible, along with garments that could, supposedly, be worn under armor and still be there when the armor was inevitably destroyed.

  It was expensive, but if the material was as good as the elves claimed, it was worth every credit.

  That night, Night offered to take her memorial stone she carved from the watchtower with him when he reported back to Remus to get her Sentinel status formalized and everything else. He promised to find a home for the stone in Ranger Headquarters, so she agreed—many of her people would be stationed there, so it was the best place for it.

  And, admittedly, she was curious to see where she would find it when she arrived in a few more months.

  Slowly, Ranthia felt more comfortable in this facsimile of civilian life. She felt weird calling it civilian life when she was in the middle of what was supposed to be an overgrown military base, but she was aggressively off-duty. Even when a runner from Legion command called out to her, he somehow ended up intercepted by a runner from the Sentinels and dragged off. Very nearly literally.

  Of course, this had another side effect. Ranthia felt listless and directionless as time passed. There was just nothing to do. As her sleep schedule slowly stabilized, she would wake up a bit before dawn. Then she was denied access to the daily Sentinel meeting yet again. Breakfast followed that. Then she did light training and exercise in the Sentinel compound after invariably failing to find a sparring partner. Once that was done, she provided prayers at a nearby temple of the five gods—specifically at Xaoc’s altar, of course—while most people ate lunch. Then the bulk of her day was spent exploring food stalls that her nose dragged her to and trying small bites while she wandered and made other vain attempts to find something new and interesting to do until dinner. Then it was back to the Sentinel’s building for dinner, followed by light exercise until it was time for her final prayers to Xaoc before bed. Repeat.

  Mid spring arrived. During one of Ranthia’s amorphous evening time blocks she, as usual, reported to her favorite fruit stand. Juicy pears and more opportunities to subtly admire one of the most gorgeous beings she had ever met? Yeah, it wasn’t really surprising that she continued to end up there. She didn’t want to bother the woman, but she was a paying customer! She just couldn’t resist the fruit or the woman that sold it, even if she was forcing herself to be content with a light friendship.

  And there was no way the beautiful elf was flirting with her. It was just a sales tactic—not that the woman needed to further incentivize Ranthia to spend her accidentally earned credits on her favorite snacks.

  Even if she had still utterly failed to absorb the woman’s name and cursed herself for it at every opportunity. It hadn’t come up again since she bought so many pears on their first encounter.

  “Oh, good timing Grace, I was just about to close down for the evening! My daughter finally got back to the city with new supplies with the elven convoy. Would you like to join us? She brought something I think you would enjoy.” The elf offered.

  Ranthia agreed without really realizing it. She was too deep in her own disappointment to learn the gorgeous woman had a child and thus, presumably, a spouse. She wasn’t surprised though, of course someone so perfectly beautiful was claimed.

  Still, Ranthia helped the amazing (and amazingly unavailable) elf that she had pined—and, yes, lusted—over for far too long pack away her goods. It was easy enough to lift the crates and carry them too, so there was no reason to force the lady—just a friend at most—to rent a cart. [Vision of the Void] even let Ranthia see through the empty space in the crates that weren’t piled up with fruit just enough to avoid running into everything.

  After she steadfastly refused to let her pear-dealer worry about anything, she followed the bemused elf back to her apartment. Okay, the door proved to be a minor obstacle, but Ranthia managed to split the stack into two and gracefully adjusted her body around the doorframe when she slipped through the doorway. …Even if she was left a bit baffled afterwards, in retrospect she absolutely should not have fit still, even doing that. Yet she had, so she shrugged her confusion off and, as the [Merchant] directed, she gently stacked the crates in a corner that was covered in some sort of inscription.

  “Wow, that usually takes me so long! I never have actually taken a physical-focused class like [Warrior] before, maybe I should take one if I decide to do another reset cycle.” The elf woman enthused.

  “Reset cycle?” Ranthia asked, curious.

  To summarize a long lecture, elves knew how to take advantage of their immortality. To increase their class quality, most elves got to level 768 in all three classes and stopped. Then, one by one, they reset their classes and leveled them back to level 768. It sounded absurd, but Ranthia supposed when time was no longer a factor, spending more time for better stats and more potent skills made sense. It was briefly tempting—and she really needed to work on adapting her own immortal mindset—but the concept sounded suicidal for someone that engaged in combat like she did. The idea of trying to survive a shimagu or threat anywhere close to her level without [Diffuse Reflectance] or [She who Dances with Chaos] sounded… unpleasant. Unpleasant was a nice word for it. Plus, resetting her third class sounded blasphemous in the extreme and there was a real chance that Xaoc wouldn’t deign to provide the offerings again.

  Still, it was fascinating and she was grateful for the woman taking so much time to explain the nuances of the process.

  Shortly after their conversation finished, the promised daughter arrived. And… yeah, Ranthia completely missed the introductions. By all the gods, how did both mother and daughter look so gorgeous!? They didn’t look like parent and child; they looked like siblings of a similar age! The mother was more angular and leaner while her daughter was curvier, but the two both pushed entirely too many of Ranthia’s buttons.

  Gods and goddesses, she hoped she wasn’t blushing.

  The hard pear cider that the daughter brought was really tasty though. They didn’t drink much—apparently it was brewed by a pretty high level [Brewmaster] and was strong compared to what she was used to—but she definitely enjoyed the flavor profile. Even better, her pear hookup was planning to seek approval to sell it and other fruit-based ciders and wines!

  “I would love it if you would be willing to… personally endorse my efforts to get licensed to sell alcohol. Perhaps if we went in together…” Her favorite merchant offered in a warm tone. Even as she gently set her hand on top of Ranthia’s.

  She’s wildly out of my league and she’s not available, it’s probably just the alcohol or cultural difference—it’s not flirting. Ranthia desperately reminded herself.

  “Of course! I am one of Remus’ Sentinels. I’m sure a recommendation from me would have some meaning to whatever coalition commerce bureaucrats you’ll have to deal with.” Ranthia offered sincerely.

  The elf’s daughter fell into a fit of gentle, melodic laughter for some reason. It seemed that some elves were bad at holding their alcohol too, same as humans!

  Ranthia’s dreams that night were terrible in a way that would make it difficult to look at either mother or daughter the next day.

  It was a nice change from her ever-present nightmares though.

  The next day Ranthia had planned to avoid the woman out of sheer embarrassment, but the fruit-selling elf managed to spot Ranthia when she passed through the far side of the market and called out—attracting stares from numerous shoppers.

  A red-faced Ranthia approached and was more than a bit surprised when the woman engaged her in conversation instead of the usual light banter while she encouraged Ranthia to buy a pile of pears.

  “Nah, they made me a Sentinel after I killed the troll twin. We were… on a long assignment, so I hadn’t been back here until after this place turned into Coalition City. But was it seriously only last year though that this place became Coalition City instead of a military base?” Ranthia tried to change the subject. She wasn’t sure how much more she could say about her role in the war without badmouthing the Legions.

  “Well, our respective leaders finally accepted that the place had changed and let the name change last year. I was here well before that; I came almost as soon as word reached us back in the Tympestshard Council’s territory about the alliance, roughly a year before the name changed. A good [Merchant] knows opportunity when she hears it, after all.” The too-attractive elf explained with a confident smile.

  “I mean, I’m obviously not complaining, but why fruit?” Ranthia asked.

  “Obviously, she says. Yes, you are quite plainly my best customer these days. Even if I struggle to get you to try everything else that I offer…” The woman’s giggle was as intoxicating as the cider had been. “I sell fruit because I was confident that no one else could match the quality of my wares. I made numerous contacts when I was with the man that fathered my daughter, and I pride myself on having Pallos’ finest fruit.”

  Ranthia’s mind almost tripped over itself. The way it had been phrased… was the most perfect woman she had ever met… available?!

  “So… you’re not with him anymore?” Ranthia asked not at all smoothly.

  “Oh, no, when our relationship contract ended, neither of us was interested in renewing it, even after we separated for a while. We just moved on with our lives. I was fortunate enough that my daughter decided to follow in my footsteps for my merchant business, rather than his farming business. I had… originally planned to stay single for at least another century or two, but sometimes you meet someone unexpected. You never know when plans might change…”

  Ranthia almost had to physically shake herself out of it. The beautiful elf wasn’t flirting with her, there was no way! She was just being social because Ranthia kept buying pears.

  …Speaking of, Ranthia beckoned for the transfer ledger and signed it again. A refreshing pear would help her think.

  “Yeah, I get what that’s like. I mean I haven’t really dated since my ex-girlfriend found someone else while I was away for my work. I haven’t tried to seriously get into a relationship ever since. I mean before I got sent out here, I’d had plenty of… um, well, you know…”

  What in Xaoc’s name was wrong with her?! Why was she mentioning that she’d been enjoying random hook-ups when the opportunity found her?! Ranthia cursed herself in her head as she tried to consume the pear in record time to mask how scarlet her face had gotten. As if the pear could have possibly hidden that.

  “One of these days I really need to convince you to try something else. I can offer you far more than just pears.”

  “Oh, Grace, nothing brightens my day quite like seeing you!”

  “Your new tunic looks wonderful, craftsmanship like that deserves to be worn by someone so fascinating.”

  Ranthia had mostly convinced herself that it was just a cultural difference. Elves were just really open with compliments and unguarded compared to humans. Which was great! She was still embarrassed every time it happened, but she was thrilled that such a magnificent woman—a [Merchant] with experience and levels that surpassed her own—was willing to be so friendly with her. It was thrilling to be friends with someone not from Remus.

  She wanted to learn more about the Tympestshard Council and its people, but it was hard to convince herself to spend time with other elves. She was spending more and more time with her pear provider, and she hoped that the feeling of friendship was mutual.

  Perhaps someday she’d work up the courage to ask.

  Ranthia’s birthday had come once again, but she still tried—as usual—to join in on the daily Sentinel meeting.

  “Nah, we don’t need you today.” Sentinel Aurora was the one that rejected her that day.

  “Okay. Well today’s my birthday, so I guess I’ll try to find something to do in town unless you guys want me to stick around for a bit, just in case?” Ranthia offered, trying to keep the open hope out of her voice.

  She wanted something to do. Living as a normal civilian was starting to grate already. The only thing she had to look forward to each day was interacting with the elf that she still didn’t know the name of! Gods and goddesses, if she could just hear it one more time, she was sure she would have it.

  Sentinel Aurora blinked at her, then gave her a ‘just a moment’ gesture. The woman poked her head back into the meeting room and yelled, needlessly loudly.

  “It’s the new girl’s birthday. Imma gonna take her out before I hit the hay!”

  Ranthia’s amorphous plans and ideas for her 31st birthday most definitely did NOT include visiting a dwarven tavern first thing in the morning. Yet there she found herself, with a woman several years her actual age’s senior. Even before a mug of some strangely scented beverage was in her hand, she was already regretting saying anything about her birthday.

  Unfortunately, she also had gotten arrogant towards alcohol after being mostly unaffected by the hard pear cider. And thus, the second and the third women to ever become Sentinels both ended up quite drunk. Whatever the dwarves did to their drinks hit hard and fast.

  A very groggy Ranthia woke up with her head killing her. Details were a blur and trying to think just brought pain. Gods and goddesses, she needed water. Ranthia tried to roll out of bed, only for a groggy grumble to emerge from the other side of what was, in retrospect, definitely not her assigned cot.

  Her amorphous plans and ideas for her 31st birthday decidedly would have never included getting blackout drunk again after so many years and, worse, sleeping with a coworker that she barely knew!

  Ranthia scrambled out of the bed and hurriedly shifted into a fresh body. It cleared her head and removed the lingering pain of whatever insidious toxin the dwarves added to their brews to break through her vitality so readily. The only problem was that immediately every single memory of everything that happened returned in perfect clarity. Cursed, cursed memories.

  “Look, what happened was a mistake. I’m not into you and I don’t know how you convinced me to do… that with you. But it was a one-time thing and a mistake. Let’s just forget about it and pretend it never happened.” Sentinel Aurora snapped, still wrapped in the blankets from her bed as she tried to boot Ranthia out of her room.

  Ranthia bristled at the accusation. It was supposed to be a celebration of her birthday and none of it had been her idea! Plus, she clearly remembered that it had been Sentinel Aurora that kissed her when she drunkenly admitted to being interested in women only when the other woman started bringing up what guys she thought were attractive.

  The older woman’s tone did her no favors either in Ranthia’s mind.

  “Yeah, no problem. Had I been sober I would have never let you kiss me.” Ranthia retorted.

  When Sentinel Aurora gave her a disgusted glare, Ranthia couldn’t help but default to petty and petulant.

  “Besides, it’ll be easy to forget. Everything you did was incredibly forgettable.”

  With that, Ranthia stormed off while the woman sputtered in anger behind her.

  How had she managed to have an even worse birthday than the ones she had behind enemy lines?!

  There was an obvious flaw with how Ranthia handled that though. It was only a relatively short time later that the day came. Ranthia had packed her personal effects into a new backpack and that night she was to depart for Remus. …With Sentinel Aurora.

  She had finished creating a new image of herself in her mistweave tunic with her new belt and backpack. She was rusty, but her image development still came just as naturally as it used to. It still took longer than she would like—and plainly took longer than it was supposed to—but at least she hadn’t gotten worse at it.

  The sun hadn’t set yet, so Ranthia went to her usual open-air market to see her favorite fruit vendor one last time—plus her new backpack could be expanded to a larger size, and she fully intended to take full advantage of every bit of space it offered. She needed enough pears to last her for… er… godsdamnit, she had no idea how long pears lasted. She was pretty certain that the elf’s inscriptions and/or Skills were somehow prolonging the fruit, and she couldn’t match either.

  “So how long do pears last?” Ranthia asked.

  The woman was watching with open amusement as Ranthia tried to fit the entire stock of pears into her backpack. Though Ranthia suspected that the sum of credits involved in the sale was also helping the woman’s mood.

  “Probably less than a week, unfortunately. I am unable to give you an exact figure, but I recommend trying to finish them within a few days, not that I expect that to be a problem with your appetite for them.” The elf answered with a mixture of amusement and… sadness, perhaps?

  Nah.

  At length Ranthia finished and smiled warmly to the woman.

  “I should be back in a year or so, though I’m not sure which base I’ll end up at. But if I get the chance, I’ll be happy to visit your shop again!” Ranthia promised. Though she found herself suddenly too shy to ask if her newest friend planned to stay that long.

  The perfection that was the elf sighed softly and shook her head.

  “I really did try, you know. Has anyone ever told you that you can be kind of dense?” The woman asked in an exasperated tone.

  Ranthia blinked, confused.

  “No…?” Ranthia replied. She prided herself on her awareness! …Usually!

  The elf leaned over her stall and grabbed Ranthia by the shoulders, pulling her forward. It would have been trivial to resist the pull, but out of a mix of surprise and trust Ranthia let it happen.

  The elf’s lips found her own.

  After a long kiss—high vitality was amazing—the elf broke the kiss and pouted at Ranthia.

  “Never before have I had to be so overt with my interest before someone noticed! You have really done a number on my pride, you know!” The elf huffed with exasperation.

  Ranthia was pretty sure that she was about to melt.

  “Y…you really… with me?” Ranthia finally stammered.

  “I am quite certain that I was not wrong about your initial interest. You were hardly subtle! But yes, since subtlety truly seems to be beyond you: I still believe that I would enjoy attempting a relationship with you for a time, once you return from the unfortunate territory that your homeland is within.” The elf replied with the most incredible smile that Ranthia had ever seen.

  “…Ranthia. My name isn’t Grace, that’s just my title. It’s Ranthia. I… I think it’s important that you know that.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “Mmm, Ranthia it is then. I am still Avyna, of course. So, are you willing to see if we are compatible enough to spend at least a few decades together?” The elf offered with a playful smile.

  “Yes!” Ranthia answered—not caring that she was loud enough to draw attention from others in the market.

  Nothing else mattered.

  Ranthia spent the rest of her evening with Avyna—finally the name stuck in her head—and hated herself for missing so many moments with the wonderful, gorgeous woman. Elf and human didn’t matter. The fact that Avyna was probably centuries older didn’t matter. They could communicate, so they could explore the possibility of finding love together.

  Avyna had closed her fruit stand and the two shared dinner together while they just talked. It was, arguably, similar to what they had always done together. But with them both of like mind about what their relationship would become, it was far more wonderful.

  When the time to part came, Ranthia made sure to write down multiple copies of Avyna’s address and stow them in different places. The elf had no intention of leaving, so long as the war continued, at least for several more decades. And so Ranthia would write to the woman as soon as she came back to coalition territory. Avyna was surprisingly confident that she could get permission to set up at any major base, so they could be together.

  They shared their second kiss just before Ranthia had to go. It was even better than the first, not that Ranthia could let it linger for nearly so long. But it was so incredible to kiss such an amazing woman and there was no way she could ever grow tired of it.

  There were probably logistical obstacles that they would face in exploring their relationship. Ranthia was a Sentinel and Avyna was from a different nation. They were different species, and they had different cultures and backgrounds. But she was willing to navigate around all of that.

  Her heart insisted that it was worth doing.

  And so, with a blatant spring in her step, Ranthia made her way back into Remus-controlled territory within the city and made her way to the sky docks that Sentinel Aurora used for departures and arrivals.

  She was already impatient to see her ordered year in Remus done and was hoping that she could find some way to cut it short. She, allegedly, had an eternity to live, but a single year suddenly felt intolerably long.

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  Nozomi Matsuoka.

  Sarah "Neila" Elkins.