(Dylan)

  Ni’ot took a seat, squeezing her large, muscular frame between Dylan and Nathan. There wasn’t enough room, so she made enough, pushing her hot body up against his to settle in. More than just a euphemism, the shiny red-scaled draconi was almost too warm to touch.

  “There we go, like a glove,” Ni’ot said with a wink to Meekan.

  “Ni’ot!” Nathan huffed, forced to pick up his plate and scoot further down the table.

  “Oh, hi Nathan.” Ni’ot grinned, leaning comfortably against Dylan. “Sorry, didn’t see you there.”

  Nathan shot her a flat look, unimpressed. “You remember I can tell when you’re lying, right?”

  “You can?” Both Charles and Dylan asked in unison.

  Dylan took a nervous sip of water. ‘Did Nathan mean he’s perceptive?’ he wondered. ‘Maybe he knows Ni’ot really well? Or… was it an ability—’

  “Yeah, one of his more annoying passives,” Ni’ot said, digging into her first steak with a knife.

  ‘Fuck.’

  “But we still love him!” She gave Nathan a playful shoulder bump. “Especially with those beautiful, shifting eyes,” she said teasingly.

  The hot draconi peered down at Dylan, a hint of amusement lingering in her golden eyes. Whitney and Hay’len recounted Wedge’s fight with the goreasaur, their voices rising as the fight went on. Ni’ot leaned in closer, her scales brushing against him as she lowered her voice. “Heard a rumor you saw some action. Any chance you got to try out the reaper round?”

  Dylan rubbed the back of his neck, sweating. Sitting next to her felt like being under a heat lamp—not just because of her sweltering, bare-scaled arm pressing against him, but because of how direct she was in both speech and intentions.

  “I uh…” Dylan hesitated, glancing at the others. W’itney and Hay’len were still focused on the goreasaur fight, oblivious to the conversation. He couldn’t risk lying—not with Nathan nearby and his uncanny ability to detect it—but telling the truth wasn’t much better if his friends were paying attention. No one but him remembered what happened before a reset. Finally, he whispered, “Yeah.”

  Ni’ot finished chewing, swallowed, and when he didn’t expand on the experience, she asked, “And…?”

  “It… bounced off and exploded mid-air?” Dylan said with a weak smile, shifting uncomfortably under her intense gaze. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be too upset with him for wasting the shot.

  “What did you shoot? A boulder?” she asked haphazardly and then started cutting up her second steak.

  Dylan’s lips pursed to one side. “An… arcbeetle?” he said, bracing himself for her reaction.

  Ni’ot stopped chewing. She looked up at him, her gaze unwavering and gauging his sincerity. After a moment, she asked, “Nathan, is he lying?”

  Nathan shook his head, but he didn’t meet her eyes. “Nope,” he mumbled, his focus shifting to his plate. It was fish—something Dylan knew the prismatic elf normally enjoyed. His usual warmth was missing, replaced by a distracted air, as if his mind were focused somewhere else.

  She burst out laughing, her booming voice echoing through the guildhall. The kitchenware on the table jumped as she slapped it, overcome with mirth, sending heads turning her way. Conversations faltered for a moment before resuming, quieter than before.

  “You shot,” she said between breaths, “an arcbeetle. With a firearm?”

  Ni’ot wiped the corners of her eyes, shoulders still bouncing with humor. “You’re hilarious. Honestly, you may be the luckiest person I know—not sure how you survived after pulling a stunt like that. Its carapace is nearly impossible to penetrate. Of course, the reaper round bounced off…” She continued to chuckle to herself.

  “Listen, when I said find a hard target, I didn’t mean a kaiju,” she said with a smirk, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Nice hat, by the way.” She gave him a slow, deliberate wink. “Fetching.”

  “But seriously, you are eating something, right?” she asked, her golden eyes narrowing as she took in his frame. “You’re wasting away—nothing but skin and bones.” She was exaggerating. Dylan knew he was still overweight and had a long way to go before hitting his goal. “You haven’t even been gone for two weeks. What in the pits happened out there?”

  Dylan shifted under her scrutiny, taking respite behind another gulp from his mug.

  He opened his mouth to explain, but W’itney, fresh off recounting Wedge’s shield bash victory, assumed Ni’ot was asking them. W’itney dove into the story from the beginning, embellishing every detail—especially the part about Dylan “saving the princess” and waking her with a true love’s kiss, complete with theatrical flourish.

  Eury’s face turned red, her lips pressed into a thin line, while Meekan leaned back with a knowing smirk, her gaze flicking briefly to Dylan before settling on W’itney. She seemed especially amused by the whimsical retelling of the kiss, like she was watching a game unfold exactly as expected. Dylan’s own face warmed with embarrassment as W’itney’s tale grew more ridiculous.

  Charles let W’itney finish before he asked, “Him?” He arched an eyebrow as he gestured across the table. “Dylan killed an arcbeetle?”

  “Yep! Disappeared right after, too. We all thought he died!” W’itney said, leaning forward with a grin. “But then Quinten found him in the blast zone. Turns out he’d stumbled—”

  W’itney yelped, jerking back as Hay’len’s foot connected sharply with their shin. “Ouch! What was that for? Mother that smarts” They glared at their twin, who scowled back a silent warning.

  Ni’ot leaned closer to Nathan, her voice dropping slightly. “Have you asked him?”

  Nathan looked away, his shoulders stiffening as he shook his head. “Not yet,” he muttered.

  “When’s his meeting?” Ni’ot pressed, her golden eyes narrowing slightly.

  “Tomorrow…” Nathan said quietly, pushing his vegetables across his plate. His movements were slow, almost mechanical, like he was avoiding something.

  “Not much time.”

  “I know…” Nathan said. He ran a hand through his spiky, slate-blue hair. “Don’t worry. I’ll get it done.”

  “What are you two talking about?” Dylan asked, leaning forward and attempting to peer around the hot draconi.

  Ni’ot turned to him with a wide, toothy grin. “Nothing to worry about, handsome.” She finished her drink and redirected the conversation. “From the exploits I’ve just heard, you should celebrate. Got any plans tonight?”

  “Not really,” Dylan said with a shrug.

  “Want some?” Ni’ot asked, her bold grin making her meaning unmistakable.

  Dylan froze. Both Eury and Meekan’s attention perked up, their gazes fixed on Dylan as all three women waited for his answer.

  Dylan swallowed hard, feeling the weight of their stares. “Um, I’m good. Bit tired, I think.” He let out a fake yawn and a mock stretch as he avoided meeting anyone’s gaze.

  Eury’s shoulders relaxed, a subtle hint of relief crossing her face. Meanwhile, Meekan frowned slightly, and Ni’ot let out an exaggerated sigh of disappointment.

  “I really shouldn’t keep First Mate Echo waiting,” Dylan said quickly as he glanced toward the nearest exit.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Nathan stood and caught Dylan just before he left. “I’ve got a surprise for you after your meeting with Guildmaster K’hab tomorrow,” he said, more like himself. “Well, more of a gift… Not that I want to encourage your reckless behavior! But you’ve more than earned it.”

  “Can’t wait,” Dylan said with a grin. He loved gifts—always had. One of his favorite things to do was give gifts randomly and without reason. He never subscribed to the idea that you needed a holiday to give or receive a gift.

  “Oh, I see how it is…” Ni’ot said, turning around to join their conversation.

  “How what is?” Nathan tilted his head slightly, glancing at her with a bemused frown.

  Ni’ot rose to her full height, towering over both Nathan and Dylan. “What’s the gift?” she asked, leaning down to bring an ear closer to Nathan.

  The prismatic elf hesitated, glancing back at Dylan before stepping closer to Ni’ot. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he whispered something into her ear. Whatever it was, Dylan couldn’t hear.

  Her golden eyes widened. “No way!” she exclaimed, crossing her toned arms over her chest. “That’s cheating. How’s a girl supposed to compete with that?”

  She sighed, before calling out to Dylan. “Hey, handsome…” She jutted her chin toward him with a playful grin.

  Dylan blinked, his brain stuttering over the nickname, as it always did when she used it.

  “Yeah?”

  “Just…” Ni’ot’s golden eyes darted to Nathan for a brief moment. She hesitated, her usual boldness faltering. “Good luck with your trial tomorrow,” she said softly.

  Dylan frowned, her phrasing playing at the edges of his mind. Maybe it was just a translation ring thing? God knows he’d run into plenty of those. Besides, his trial had already taken place back in the jungle—tomorrow was just a meeting about it. Wasn’t it?

  “Thanks,” Dylan said with a nod. He turned to leave, his steps heavy as he headed toward the ship. The dining hall’s chatter faded behind him.

  ‘First Mate Echo’s probably still onboard,’ he thought, groaning inwardly at the memory of the rope ladder. His head dipped at the thought of climbing it again.

  Dylan made his way through the guildhall and back out to the field where the Everafter floated above. The airship still impressed him, even with the scars of her last excursion marring her Disney-like frame. Deep gouges and scratches told the story of her fall from the skies.

  The rope ladder waited for him, gently swaying in the late afternoon breeze. The ambient temperature wasn’t cold, but felt cool compared to the oppressive heat and humidity of the jungle.

  Dylan took hold of the side rope, its coarse fibers giving his palms grit so as not to slip. Without looking down, he ascended the ladder, one rung at a time. The climb felt easier now, his body adjusting to the demands of this world. By the time he reached the deck, the ship already felt like a second home.

  “Welcome aboard, captain,” First Mate Echo said. He stood there, hands clasped behind his back, business as usual.

  “Have you just been… waiting there for me to get back?” Dylan certainly hoped not.

  “Negative, sir. Spotter Echo’s still in the nest. He sent word the moment he saw you step out of the stronghold.”

  “So,” Dylan said, the word hanging awkwardly in the air.

  First Mate Echo stood motionless, his hands clasped neatly behind his back, waiting expectantly. Dylan shifted his weight, glancing around as the silence stretched just a little too long.

  “What happens now?” he asked finally, his voice breaking the tension. “What about the ship and the crew? And me? I’m about to join a guild and start training to be an adventurer.”

  The first mate chuckled. “You’ve just got back from an adventure, sir. I believe that already qualifies you as an adventurer, regardless of abilities.”

  He noticed his words didn’t completely disarm Dylan of his concerns. “If you’d follow me to the Captain’s Quarters, we can go over your options.” He gestured for Dylan to go first.

  Dylan obliged and made his way to the meeting room. He stopped short when he opened the door, surprised by what he saw. Most of the smaller effects—paintings, stands, and other decorative items—had been replaced. What caught his attention wasn’t just their presence, but how the replacements looked… authentic.

  “Where’d you get this stuff? I thought we left it all behind in the jungle?”

  “We did. Quinten was kind enough to store whatever fit inside his trunk and returned it once we got back. There isn’t much conventional value in most of the items, but sentimentally, this was all priceless. I’ll be forever in his debt for this kindness.”

  The first mate took a moment to admire the meager effects in the room before he resumed his usual stance and said, “Normally, I’d have drafted a formal proposal for your review, but given your… illiteracy, we can go over the details together now.”

  Dylan winced at the word, wishing there was a way to get all writing to be the magic kind that translated for you. He studied four semesters of Spanish in high school, and only remembered, ‘?Dónde está la biblioteca?’ How was he going to learn a whole new language that didn’t even use normal letters?

  “Do you wish to settle the crew’s wages now, or issue vouchers for payment once the treasury is in a more favorable position?”

  The question took Dylan by surprise. ‘What the fuck’s a “voucher for payment?”’ he wondered and then asked, “You mean… not pay them?” His face soured as the words left his mouth.

  “Affirmative, sir.” First Mate Echo’s posture remained rigid, unflinching in the face of such a grotesque choice. The lamprian was made of sterner stuff than Dylan.

  “Just so we’re clear,” Dylan lifted a finger to make his point. “Not paying them isn’t an option.”

  “Understood, sir. We still have two choices: garnish their wages, dispersing vouchers to be paid after the next charter, or pay them in full and dismiss them.”

  “First, you want me not to pay them, and now you want me to fire them?” Dylan shook his head, his face twisting in confusion and disgust. “Jesus, Gym’othee—sorry—Echo.”

  “Negative, captain, it is not my desire for you to do either,” the first mate said calmly. “I am merely presenting you with your options. But if I may?” He waited for Dylan, who gave him a nod to continue.

  “Paying and dismissing them would be the most prudent choice. They’re the finest crew to be found, and keeping them idle during the refit would waste both their considerable skills and the treasury’s limited funds. Let them find other work where they can pursue fulfillment and purpose—a chance to contribute their skills meaningfully and take pride in what they accomplish.”

  “So we cut them their last check and let them go? Won’t they be upset?” Dylan asked, the words tight in his throat. He’d been laid off before. It was the most demotivating time of his life. It felt awful to get fired. And this crew? They deserved better after everything they’d done for him.

  “Oh, I don’t imagine they’d get upset. Nothing more demotivating for skilled individuals than sitting around with nothing to do. Better to let them move on than stagnate.”

  “I never thought of it that way. Okay, but what happens to the ship?”

  “That depends on you, sir. Do you wish to keep the ship, or should I look for a buyer? Even in this condition, I suspect it would attract plenty of offers.”

  “What if I keep it?” Dylan asked, the thought of letting it go sitting uncomfortably with him. It wasn’t just a ship anymore. After everything they’d been through, it felt like home.

  “Captain Echo von D’lores had the foresight to invest in the construction of Cindercrest’s airport, securing a grandfathered dock for the Everafter. You’ll never have to wait to dock, nor will you accrue docking fees. However, supplies and repairs remain at your expense. After her repairs, she can stay there indefinitely until you need her again.”

  Dylan couldn’t help thinking Mother of Dragon’s airports were probably way cooler than Earth’s. He couldn’t wait to see one for himself.

  “While the treasury cannot cover an expedited refit using magical resources, we have enough for a mundane refit, though. Just as good in my experience. It will, however, take a considerable amount of time.”

  “How long?”

  “Honestly, I’m unsure, sir. I’ll send word once the inspection, appraisal, and quote are complete. However, I wouldn’t expect anything less than a year.”

  “Wow, okay.” Dylan blinked, trying to process the timeline. “And what about you?”

  “Me, sir? I intend to withhold my wages and allocate them toward the cost of the refit.”

  “You’re seriously going to wait around for a year… without getting paid?”

  “Negative, sir. I’ll oversee the refit personally, which should keep both my time and mind occupied. The logistics of sourcing labor and supplies alone is the work of a Quartermaster—a role I’ve held before on an airship. Rest assured, sir, I know what I’m doing. The job will be done properly.”

  “Do I have to follow you and stay at port for the next year?” Dylan asked, dreading the possibility. He had, presumably, just passed his trial and was about to start training—or classes? Honestly, he hadn’t even thought to ask what happened after joining a guild. Most of his focus had been on, well, not dying.

  “Negative, sir. Simply leave the hat in the Captain’s Suite, and we’ll be able to sail away without issue. The ship will remain yours until you find someone willing to accept the responsibility—and the hat.”

  “What about A’liyah?”

  “She’s already departed, sir, shortly after Nightshade’s gear was unloaded. I covered her wages and provided a sizeable bonus.”

  Dylan removed the hat, holding it in both hands. “Is there anything else?”

  “Negative, sir. I’ll take it from here.” The first mate extended a hand, subtly intercepting Dylan’s attempt at a hug. “This isn’t goodbye, Captain—just a farewell. I’ll keep you updated on any pertinent developments and will seek you out once the repairs are complete.”

  “Thank you,” Dylan said softly, gripping the hat a little tighter. He wasn’t sure why, but the thought of leaving it behind felt harder than expected. Funny, considering he’d never thought of himself as a hat guy.

  “Take care, sir.”

  Dylan made his way to the captain’s suite and hung the hat on a peg on the wall. He lingered for a moment, taking one last look around the room. The image of Captain Echo von D’lores was seared into his mind—standing by the picture window, her gaze fixed on the horizon. It had been the last time he’d seen her, and the room still felt like hers.

  Everything about it felt foreign to him, like stepping into an office he hadn’t earned yet. Even the air seemed heavy, as if the room itself was mourning the loss of its captain. Dylan’s fingers brushed the brim of the hat one last time before he turned and walked away, leaving the quiet weight of the suite behind him.

  This time, he decided to use the rope ladder. His descent was quick, almost effortless. He noticed how much easier it felt now—more proof he was stronger than when he first boarded the Everafter.

  The crew pulled up the ladder, and Dylan heard the engine fire up. It sputtered at first, then settled into the steady thrum he’d grown accustomed to on the journey home.

  The view was breathtaking, like something out of a movie, as the airship disappeared into the horizon, its silhouette shrinking against the painted sky. Dylan turned to head to the dorms for some much-needed sleep when something clicked in his mind.

  “God fucking damnit…” he muttered, realizing he’d forgotten to ask them to change the name of that stupid room.