(Dyn)

  Charles stiffly pced a hand on Dyn’s shoulder, drawing him out of his thoughts.

  “You’re right,” Charles said. “I wasn’t there and don’t know what you’ve been through, but I’m here now.” He walked down the hall toward the exit, then hopped down from the treehouse. “e, sit.” He tapped the sill of the door and waited for Dyn to take a seat.

  Dyn followed and sat in the doorway, his feet dangling an inch above the ground.

  Charles leaned against the treehouse and crossed his arms. “Just watch.”

  Dyn sat, parked at the edge of Merts' Cirear Market Street, watg the heart of Dartmouth bustle with townsfolk shopping and browsing the ever-rotating wares of the traveling merts.

  A slender drai with umbra-brown scales and five-pronged horns swept back across her head caught Dyn's eye. She wore a simple, cream-colored sundress, turning a small tri over in her hand. A purse appeared, and she exged three cems for the bauble.

  The mert was an elf with lic hair and a frilled white blouse—his only remarkable features. He gave a tight-lipped smile, and she responded with a slight bow of her head, closing her eyes briefly.

  A pair of violet drai whisked across the street, catg Dyn’s eye. Physically identical, they each wore different outfits. One had a loose, open, revealing tunic that atuated their scaled arms, chest, and stomach, while the other wore a form-fitti over a mostly buttoned-up long-sleeved shirt.

  On closer iion, the first had a swagger in their gait, their tail swaying to keep up with their sassy hips. The other drai’s tail was more reserved, moving in time with their trolled steps. As they passed, Dyn overheard a s of their versation—something about flowers, a nightshade.

  “Twins,” Charles said, his gaze following them as they walked down the sidewalk.

  “Do you know them?” Dyn asked.

  “Me?” Charles poio himself before shaking his head. “No.”

  They tinued people-watg until the sun dipped halfast the horizon. Charles was right—the drai were just people. Friendly folk, in fact; every one of them that noticed Dyn gave him a big smile and waved. He realized they stared as much as he did, but he didn’t mind their lingering attention. Charles’ closed-off stand steely gaze kept them at a distance as Dyn acclimated.

  “Hi, Charles,” said a petite, plum-scaled drai. Her crest was simple and unadorned, and she wore a metallic gold suhat shimmered as she walked.

  “Y’rell,” Charles said with a curt nod.

  Y’rell noticed Dyn sitting ireehouse doorway, smiling and waving at him. This was the closest any of them had gotten. A gentle breeze carried the sweet fragrance of roses. Her lithe figure reminded him of Bronze, but thankfully, her eyes didn’t—they were a lovely shade of emerald, sparkling with i.

  He disliked that the root of his issues boiled down to cssiresolved childhood trauma—mommy issues. But uanding that allowed him to see not all drai were evil monsters out to get him. It was far more plex; he’d have to get to know them before passing judgment.

  Although he’d calmed down, the experiend ret breakthrough had left him raw, so he let Auto-maake over.

  Dyn fshed her a broad grin and waved back. Her bright emerald eyes narrowed slightly as she checked him out, still smiling. Feeling self-scious, he stopped waving but couldn’t wipe the stubborn smile off his face.

  Y’rell approached, stopping a respectful distance away. “I…” Her voice trailed off, g both hands in front of her.

  Charles watched their iion, fasated.

  She gnced down at her feet before lifting her gaze ba. “Hi, I’m Y’rell.”

  Dyn hopped down from the sill, straightening himself. She still towered over him. Looking up to meet her gaze, he stepped closer, closing the distaween them, and offered her his hand.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y’rell,” Dyn said, still smiling.

  His forwardook her by surprise—he noticed her pupils dite and her nostrils fre. Y’rell quickly cmped her mouth shut with a p, realizing it had been open. She stared down at his outstretched hand. This was the sed odd rea he’d gotten from a standard greeting.

  Dyn wondered, ‘Am I doing it wrong?’ He referenced his mental “How to People Guide” that society had ingrained in him. ‘Eye tact, smile, repeat their name, and a firm handshake. Should I throw in a pliment?’

  Auto-manners ran with the idea, and Dyn said, “That’s a lovely dress.”

  Y’rell touched her dress, g his waiting hand, and took it, gently ing her fingers around his. Dyn tried to shake, but she only wao hold hands. Her touch wasn’t what he expected—warm, soft, and silky. Trying again, he squeezed her hand firmly and gave it a proper shake.

  Y’rell inhaled sharply, looking up from their csped hands, and asked, “Who’s your friend, Charles?”

  “Dyn,” Charles said, raising his eyebrows as he watched.

  He kept smiling, staring, and shaking her hand—stu an awkward loop. Y’rell seemed to enjoy the attention. She kept gazing into his eyes, not wanting to let go. He swallowed hard. This level of awkwardness was beyond Auto-manners’ capabilities; he’d have to rescue himself.

  “Charles,” Dyn said, his cheeks ag. “Don’t we have an appoi with the justice league?”

  That piqued her i even more. “You’re an adventurer?” she asked.

  “It’s the League of Adventurers,” Charles corrected, “and we don’t need an appoi.”

  “I think I’m ready to go now,” Dyn said. “ we go now?” He noticed a different hunger growing in her eyes, one he wasirely fortable with. They’d just met.

  “There’s no rush now,” Charles said with a shrug, more ied in what was happeniween Dyn and Y’rell. “We’ve already missed the day shift.”

  She finally let go of his hand, turo Charles, and said, “I could show him.” She sounded exceptionally sweet, clearly excited at the prospect of showing Dyn around.

  Charles came to his rescue, shaking his head. “No. He’s under my prote.”

  Y’rell stepped back, bringing her hand to her chest. “I didn’t know you were an adveoo.”

  “Used to be…” he said, pushing off the treehouse. He made his way to the other side, and Dyn heard him open a chest.

  “Well,” she said, “are you two going to be around for a while?” She stole an Dyn.

  “Just arrived today. I’ll be around for at least a week,” Charles said.

  Dyn heard him shut the lid. She blinked and bowed her head in farewell to them both.

  “I hope to see you around, Dyn,” Y’rell said over her shoulder as she resumed her stroll.

  “Yep, see you around.” Catg himself mid-wave, Dyn pulled his arm down. ‘Stop leading on the nice dragon dy,’ he thought. He’d have to be more careful about who he waved to iure.

  Dyn sensed Charles’ presence beside him, and they both watched Y’rell walk away. Her graceful hips swayed bad forth, her tail trailing behind.

  “I thought you were afraid of drai?” Charles asked.

  “Terrified,” Dyn said, still staring, uo look away. “Absolutely terrified.”

  Charles gave him a puzzled look. When Dyn turo meet his gaze, he saw the ons. His knees gave out, and he fell over, trying to get away. The well-equipped, rugged elf stood there, armed with three bdes and a shortbow.

  A longsword was sheathed along his spine, a shortsword across his lower back, and a dagger on his hip. A quiver was strapped to his thigh, with the shortbow slung over his shoulder and across his chest.

  Dyn closed his eyes, threw his arms over his head, and thought, ‘Not again!’

  There was a long pause before Charles asked, “What are you doing?”

  “Just make it quick,” Dyn said, ing back toward the treehouse. At least, that’s where he assumed he was going; he refused to open his eyes.

  “Dyn—”

  “What are you waiting for?” he interrupted. Of all the methods of torture, waiting was the most effective. For Dyn, anticipating pain was infinitely worse than experieng it. The knowledge that something was ing enveloped him in an all-ing state of vigince. He called it Wait-mode.

  “I’m waiting for you,” Charles said.

  Dyn flinched as a firm hand took him by the arm, hoisting him to his feet. He opened one eye just in time to see Charles shut the oval door to the treehouse, knowing he wouldn’t get ba until the rugged elf ope.

  “You’re under my prote,” Charles said, notig Dyn’s eyes darting from on to on. “I ’t do that if I’m unarmed.”

  “You said it’s a short walk. Do you really all your ons?”

  “These aren’t all of my ons,” Charles said, double-cheg the csp holding his quiver to his thigh.

  In an attempt to divert both his and Charles’ attention, Dyn poio the two demons hooked up to the treehouse and asked, “What are their names?”

  “They’re summons; they don’t have names.”

  “Do you get the same pair when you re-summon them?”

  “Yes, they get restituted, even if destroyed.”

  “I think they should have names,” Dyn said, bending over to check their undercarriage. “How you tell if it’s a birl?” He couldn’t tell them apart.

  “Bramble spawn don’t have genders; they’re bramble spawn.” Charles readjusted the bow across his chest.

  ‘Bramble spawn,’ Dyn noted mentally.

  Charles stood unfortably close, prompting Dyn to move dowreet. Charles followed closely from behind.

  Looking back toward the treehouse, he saw why it was called the Mert’s Circle—the treehouse had been hiding the other temporary mert stalls scattered around the circle. There was even a rge stable on the opposite side.

  “Bramble spawn don’t o be stabled?” he asked, eager for an excuse to see all the new animals. There were bipeds, quadrupeds, and Dyn didn’t know what to call the three- or six-legged creatures. ‘Sexapeds? No, that sounds wrong.’

  “They’re part of the treehouse; they’ll wither away and die if detached,” Charles said. He was eerily quiet for someone carrying so many ons, and Dyn still didn’t see why he couldn’t give them names.

  “Put your hood up if you don’t want them to gawk,” Charles suggested.

  Not wanting another Y’rell I, Dyn pulled up the hood of his cloak. While a hooded figure walking around at dusk might attrae attention, his human ears still stood out like a bea.

  As they started down the road, somethi off. Dyn chalked it up to being on another world with magic, strange greeting s, and dragon-people.

  There were fewer pedestrians out now than before, when he had sat watg from the safety of the treehouse. Dyn suspected it was diime for most, but the encroag darkness was also a ve excuse to be home with their families.

  Tall, dark metal poles, evenly spaced along the road, held empty cages.

  ‘That’s odd,’ he thought. ‘Did someoeal every single light bulb?’ He watched as a small spark came to life in one of the empty spaces, growing into a pulsing mass of stant white light. ‘I guess you don’t need light bulbs when you’ve got magibsp;The spark sizzled into a steady, buzzing hum as the light filled the streets, walls, and even the lower portions of the sky.

  Other than foot traffid the occasional ings and goings of traveling merts, Dyn hadn’t seen any vehicles on the road to the Merts’ Circle. The road had a well-maintained surface, mostly made up of squared, evenly spaced, sun-bleached cobblestones.

  The sidewalk featured alternating blue and e brickwork, id at a forty-five-degree angle, and it was just as wide as the street. The brickwork was impressive—immacute, even. He tio take iown as they walked.

  The buildings were mostly one or two stories tall, made of stone and brick. Some even seemed shaped from solid stone, seamless, like the underground levels beh the Ebonscale stronghold. A range of natural rock colors, fre to gray and everything iween, domihe ndscape. There was a distinct ck of wood; most of the architecture featured stone, gss, aal, reminding him of big cities ba Earth.