Waking up was a slightly awkward affair as Priscilla had somehow managed to nestle herself under Sulaiman’s arm to lay her head upon his chest. How that happened, she had no fucking idea because she thought he was going to sleep farther from her, but waking up to Sulaiman’s face in the early morning light wasn’t a sight she was going to complain about. But Sulaiman had other ideas, as was evident by the way he scrambled away from her, letting her head drop onto the ground.

  “Fuckin’ ouch,” Priscilla whined, though it didn’t hurt that much. Sulaiman was turned away from her and was furiously packing up. Kavil was holding back laughter as he came over to help Priscilla stand, making him her new favorite traveling companion, even if he didn’t tell her how that sleeping arrangement happened under his watch.

  The awkwardness continued as Priscilla may have accepted sleeping in her traveling clothes last night, but she wasn’t about to spend another day in them, so she insisted on changing. Kavil helped her out of the sling and then both the boys turned around as Priscilla pulled her shirt off. She rolled her eyes at that. Nakedness was a natural part of life and they were going to have to get over it since they’re going to spend long periods traveling on the road together. If they all get doused in toxic mud, they aren't going to care that much about the people around them in the scramble to get it off.

  But eventually, everyone was ready so they started on their way.

  They made it to Frean’s homestead by late morning.

  As it came into view on the horizon, Kavil’s steps faltered for a moment before a resolute look settled onto his face and he began to walk faster. Priscilla met Sulaiman’s gaze over Kavil’s head and it seemed they were on the same page as they matched Kavil’s pace.

  The house was exactly as Priscilla and Sulaiman had left it, though the majority of the produce now lay decaying upon the ground. Kavil knelt next to the plaque that Sulaiman had made, running his fingers over Frean’s name.

  Priscilla gave him space as she nudged the horse towards the house. There weren’t any new footprints in the dirt and the grass around the door looked undisturbed, so it was unlikely Kopica’a had come back this way after their cover had been blown. She watched the sky just in case and Sulaiman came to stand by her.

  After a few minutes, Kavil stood up, wiping his eyes with his sleeve as he marched towards the door.

  “I don’t know if I’d…” Priscilla’s words died as Kavil turned a fierce stare towards her.

  “I’m taking Frean’s journal with me,” Kavil said. But Sulaiman grabbed Kavil’s arm before he could actually open the door.

  “Tell me what it looks like and I’ll get it for you,” Sulaiman said.

  “Why?” Kavil said, frowning as he tried to shake off Sulaiman's grip. “It’s faster for me to just get it myself.”

  “It’s better if you don’t see the inside of this house,” Sulaiman said. “There’s some things that are better left unknown.”

  Kavil faltered at that, glancing at Priscilla.

  “It made me sick, and I didn’t even know Frean personally,” Priscilla said. The body was gone, but the smell would have lingered and the floor would still be stained with blood and entrails.

  Kavil’s face twisted unhappily. “If you already took care of his body, what else is there to see?”

  “We didn’t have time to clean everything,” Sulaiman said simply, “and the smell isn’t one you’ll easily forget.”

  Kavil opened his mouth, shut it with force and took a long, deep breath in.

  “It’ll be a blue book with a pair of antlers emblazoned on the cover,” Kavil said quietly, “and if you see a small elk statue, grab that too.”

  He then turned and marched to the other end of the garden. Priscilla exchanged another glance with Sulaiman before following after Kavil. She decided to go against her doctor’s orders and dismounted without help, landing a little hard but staying on her feet.

  “You coulda asked me for help,” Kavil said, though he didn’t look up from the ground.

  “I could have,” Priscilla agreed as she stood next to him, “but I think you’re a little preoccupied with other more important things.”

  Kavil made a noise of agreement but didn’t say anything else.

  “Will you tell me about him?” Priscilla asked softly, prepared to stand in silence if Kavil couldn’t bring himself to speak.

  Kavil finally looked up, his eyes shiny. Slowly, haltingly, Kavil began to speak of the life of Frean Hoffsteader. He was a good man, a kind one who cared deeply about the world, which was why he took up adventuring in the first place. Frean wanted to help protect his city by defeating a local nest of sand drakes and found he was good at the work. His work ethic and loyalty drew others to follow him, and Frean and his party was successful for a long time. But his luck didn’t last and Frean was left as the only survivor after encountering a monster stampede.

  Sulaiman quietly came to a stop behind them, but Priscilla didn’t bring that up to Kavil as she listened to the only eulogy that Frean Hoffsteader would ever get.

  It took another two days to reach the outskirts of Grazda. Priscilla hadn’t been given a clean bill of health on the morning they approached the city, but Kavil did say that she could take off her sling to enjoy the hot springs later.

  Kavil had been quiet the day after they left Frean’s grave and Priscilla didn’t have the heart to try and force conversation. She tried communicating silently with Asha over their bond but it was like trying to play a game of charades while your eyes were closed and you could only guess based on the vibes the other person was giving off. Priscilla felt like their bond should allow telepathic communication but that wasn’t based on any facts, just the strong belief that would be rad as fuck. Maybe when she had some private time with Asha, they could try again with better results.

  But Kavil seemed to recover after reading through Frean’s journal that evening and regained most of his usual cheer, flipping the small elk statue in his hands as he talked about everything he was excited to see in Grazda. He managed to wheedle a promise out of them to visit the markets at least once because he had heard amazing things about them. Priscilla didn’t really want to delay getting home to Illnyea even by a few hours, but when Sulaiman agreed, Priscilla’s hands were tied unless she wanted to reveal what she knew. That wasn’t an option, so there was one mandatory shopping trip on the agenda, which didn’t even end up adding more time to the journey since they had to stay a night anyway.

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  The city was just as they had left it, the afternoon sun glinting off the chrome, upper districts as a shadow fell over the lower half of the city.

  Priscilla led the way to the inn on the city outskirts where they had stayed last time, going in first and leaving the boys with the animals while she got a room.

  And then promptly came back out, frowning.

  “The inn’s full,” Priscilla said, “but the innkeeper gave me directions to one he thinks has space open and is reasonably priced.”

  “Lead the way,” Sulaiman commanded. Priscilla rolled her eyes and tossed her braid over her shoulder, sticking her nose up in the air as she did just that.

  By a stroke of luck, as they spotted the inn, the Golden Goblet, Priscilla also spied a sign for a horse trader down the street.

  “Sulaiman, take this,” Priscilla said, dropping a handful of gold into his hands, “and go get us two rooms. I’ll handle getting two more horses for us and trade the donkey in – maybe I’ll get a discount.”

  “I’ll come with you, Priscilla,” Kavil said, giving the people brushing past him a nervous glance and stepping closer to her. “I know more about horses than I do inns.”

  Sulaiman rolled his eyes and pocketed the money. “Get horses that aren’t reactive and have even tempers. We don’t want them running off in case we encounter another monster.”

  “Got it,” Priscilla said and strode forth confidently.

  Haggling was something that Priscilla didn’t often get to enjoy, as she normally had enough money it didn’t matter, but in this world, she was going to have to keep those habits ingrained by wealth in check. The gold from the Thornewoods would go a long way, but there was no need to be wasteful.

  Priscilla managed to get the two horses for 45 gold instead of the usual 60 (5 gold discount for the donkey) and was introducing Kavil to his new steed, a dappled gray mare, when Sulaiman came back to them.

  “Hey, when can–” Priscilla stopped talking when she saw the expression on Sulaiman’s face.

  Sulaiman was a ball of tightly wound frustration, his eyebrows pinched together and his lips pressed together like a slash across his face. His shoulders were high as he dodged someone walking, giving them an icy glare before stalking forward.

  “You have to make the reservation,” Sulaiman said in a strained tone, holding out the gold. Priscilla took it without looking away from him.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” Priscilla asked but Sulaiman just looked past her at the horses.

  “I’ll handle this,” Sulaiman said, brushing past her and leaving Priscilla confused and wary. She glanced one last time at him but Sulaiman had already started talking with Kavil about taking care of horses and had his hand on Priscilla’s new chestnut horse, so Priscilla had no other option than to stash her returned gold and walk into the Golden Goblet.

  It was more opulent than the other inn had been, with most of the decor some shade of goldish yellow and the faint scent of incense carried through the air. Several cactus plants lined the wall in gilded pots, with a few sporting lovely pink flowers.

  The innkeeper wore a stout, white hat that almost hid the fact he was going bald and had pale skin that seemed translucent and washed out next to the gold that surrounded him. He stood behind a tall desk that had a mural of a goblet pouring out a dark wine onto a desert dune. The imagery took a moment to place, but Priscilla recognized it as one commonly associated with Halei, the goddess who ruled over the desert and fire, whose temple Illnyea and co. visited in the story. It was odd to see Halei here, as most of her worshippers were on the southern continent of Soladies.

  The innkeeper had an aura of smugness, which set off all sorts of alarm bells in Priscilla as she started to get an inkling of what had happened.

  “Do you have rooms available?” Priscilla asked bluntly, making her tone condescending like she didn’t actually believe this establishment was worthy of her time. It was a tone she had perfected over the years that others dubbed her ‘Karen voice’, along with the way she stared down her nose at the innkeeper like he was less than the dirt on her shoes.

  “Ah yes, we have many available,” the man said, “let me–”

  “Why was my companion refused service then?” Priscilla said, venom dripping from her words as she glared. The picture was becoming clearer and it was fucking ugly.

  The innkeeper paused, confusion on his face before his eyes widened.

  “When you say companion, do you mean the Muloian?” he asked, like he couldn’t believe what he was saying.

  “Yes,” Priscilla hissed, “and he has a name other than Muloian, innkeeper.”

  She spat out the word like it was something dirty, and it seemed to ruffle the man’s composure.

  “Well you know it’s bad for business to let his type into my establishment,” the innkeeper said like it was common knowledge, “but if you find him other accommodations, you can stay–”

  And there went all her fucks.

  Bye bye fucks.

  “It’s also bad for business when you turn away upstanding citizens,” Priscilla said, sneering at the pathetic excuse of a man, “all because your brain is tinier than a scorpion's ballsack and you fail to realize that you’re a shit-sucking douchebag who deserves to rot in hell for so many fucking reasons, the least of which is the fact that you use the iconography of a goddess you clearly don’t worship based on how you don’t even have have an ever-burning pyre in Her honor. Your dumb ghost-looking ass probably doesn’t even know what iconography means, but just know that you’re the first on Halei’s smiting list, you absolute fucknugget.”

  The innkeeper sputtered but couldn’t form a coherent sentence.

  “You’re lucky I don’t rearrange your face,” Priscilla growled, “but I have better things to do than waste my breath on someone whose mother should have just swallowed.”

  Priscilla spun on her heel, tossing one last message for the innkeeper over her shoulder.

  “And by the way, everyone can tell you use gilded fakes rather than real gold – maybe you should spend less time worrying about appearances and more time reflecting on how much of a dickhead you are.”

  She stormed out of the building.

  Gods above, below, and sideways, did Priscilla hate being forced to deal with cunts like the innkeeper. Stupid ass propaganda infected too many people’s mindsets and there were people who already looked for a reason to flex their puny amount of power to make themselves feel superior, so the propaganda just gave them what they believed to be a good reason to be shitstains.

  Priscilla took a moment to breathe deeply in once so she didn’t return to the boys with a snarl on her face. She couldn’t quite manage a smile and settled for neutrality.

  As she approached, Sulaiman looked at her with a hint of wariness in his eyes.

  “The Golden Goblet is too low class for my tastes,” Priscilla said in her snootiest voice, “so we’re heading somewhere else.”

  Sulaiman had the look on his face like he may want to protest, but Priscilla gave him a half-smile as she said, “I’m of the opinion stupid dipshits don’t deserve my money.”

  An idea struck her then, one that may be petty to some but seemed perfectly reasonable to a pissed off Priscilla.

  “Oh Sulaiman,” Priscilla said as she stumbled into his chest like her legs couldn’t bear her weight. He caught her with steady arms, though he looked startled.

  “The horrors, the horrors,” Priscilla shuddered, taking care to project her voice. “I can’t believe the Golden Goblet had those roaches just sitting there out in the open, oh my gods, Sulaiman they were huge.” Priscilla gasped, staring up desperately at Sulaiman. “And did you see the rats hunting the roaches? I didn’t know they could hunt in packs.”

  She shuddered, as if the horrid picture she painted were truly real.

  A few nearby travelers who had been talking amongst each other heard her words and looked warily at the Golden Goblet. They seemed to have abruptly changed their minds about staying there and kept walking down the streets.

  Sulaiman stared at Priscilla for a long moment as she blinked guilelessly up at him before huffing out a laugh.

  “I saw them,” Sulaiman said, his voice louder than it needed to be, “but I suppose that’s what happens when you let rats breed unchecked, they can get scary smart.”

  Priscilla knew her grin was wicked and they were confusing the hell out of poor Kavil, who was staring at them like they had grown a second head, but she couldn’t help it when Sulaiman’s smirk matched her energy. She pulled herself out of Sulaiman’s arm to straighten herself.

  “Shopkeeper!” Priscilla called out to the man who had sold her the horses. “Where can I find good accommodations with access to private hot springs in this city?”

  The very nice stablemaster seemed amused by their antics and gave her directions to a hotel a few layers higher in the city, and even agreed to keep their horses in his stables overnight. Priscilla paid the stabling fee before leading the way to their new inn.

  And if she loudly dragged the Golden Goblet’s name through the mud each time she could work it naturally into the conversation, well, that was no one’s business but her own.