My borrowed quill scratched against the pages of my journal as I sat in my room, noting down everything Mulvinia had told me. It wasn’t much, but learning that Myrtle and Abel, who I assumed was her husband, were openly watering down the drinks enough for the staff to notice was interesting. That was another thing I had found in places in the capitol to add time between deliveries, and I wondered which of them had learned their trade there.

  A knock on my door caused me to pause in my writing, and I quickly blew on the page and shut the book. As I stood, I slipped it beneath my pillow. It wouldn’t stop someone who truly wanted to find it, but remained a better option than leaving it out. After a quick check of my hair and clothes, the latter of which Mulvinia had done a fantastic job of cleaning up, I moved to the door.

  I expected to be greeted by Myrtle, or perhaps Tobias, as the hour was growing late and dinner should be approaching. Instead, I found Rita, who stood with a slightly sour expression on her face. Before I could say a word about the rather fetching outfit she wore, she let out a soft sigh.

  “Myrtle got ahold of me.” Her eyes fell to the floor, and I swore I could see a tinge of red on her cheeks, though that could be the light dusting of rouge.

  That made me blink. I couldn’t think of a time on our trip that she had made any effort of makeup, and while it was clear she hadn’t used the same over the top amounts as some ladies back home, it was obvious. Her lips were a dark shade of red, and both eyelids had a hint of copper eyeshadow which brought out her green eyes. Not even Poker Face could keep away my smile.

  “So I can see.”

  My gaze fell on the floor length dress that she wore, as I took in the details. It was a thing of blue wool and appeared to be the type of thing someone would wear to a festival or perhaps a rather informal church event. Though, I couldn’t help but wonder if the cut would be a touch too immodest for such a thing, even if Rita didn’t share Myrtle’s proportions.

  She shifted under my gaze, and I did my best not to notice how the short sleeves allowed me to see exactly how toned her arms were. When her hand went up to tuck a strand of her red hair away from her face, I realised she wasn’t wearing her normal ponytail. Instead, it fell as glossy strands that flowed down her back.

  The truly shocking thing was that she didn’t have her sword. As though on instinct, her hand strayed to the spot where it should have hung, fingers curling in the air. It was almost odd to not see it, and I wondered how Myrtle had ever convinced her to part with it. With a small cough, I activated my Item Value Identification skill, which informed me that the entire outfit was worth about seven silver.

  Poker Face stopped the frown, but I made a mental note to check that. It wasn’t insanely expensive, but for where we were, few places would sell such a thing. Another prod towards my theory that one of them was from a bigger city, even if not the capital.

  Rita met my gaze, and I realised it was rude of me to be standing here so silently. I fell back on traditions, and I gave a small bow.

  “You look wonderful. Myrtle should be proud.”

  The glare she shot me showed she didn’t appreciate my honesty. “It’s ridiculous. She’s dressed me up like I’m about to meet a royal dignitary.”

  “Not even close.” I couldn’t stop the chuckle at the idea. “You would be wearing silk for that depending on their station, and maybe braid your hair depending on if the event called for it. That outfit is worth less than a full gold piece, and even that price would get you laughed out of any party where someone of such a standing would be present.”

  “And you would know?” She asked, her glare intensified.

  “Yes. I’ve been to that sort of soiree. Believe me, it’s ninety percent status symbols, and very little actual adherence to what looks good. You should be thankful that she didn’t decide to follow that particular tradition.”

  She looked away, but her tail flicked, though I couldn’t tell if she was pleased, annoyed, embarrassed or a mixture of all three. “Flattery will get you nowhere with me.”

  “Good thing I never intended to try,” I said, and held out my arm.

  “What do you want me to do with that?”

  I gave her a look and sighed. “Take it so I can escort you to dinner. Clearly our host wants the trappings of an upper class event and we shouldn’t disappoint.”

  “Are you serious?” She asked, and I saw the visible confusion on her face.

  “Yes. Here.”

  It took a moment of explanation, but soon enough, she walked with me down the stairs to the dining hall at the bottom. We entered the public dining area and found no one present. Music drifted out of a door that sat ajar at the back of the room. Though Rita stepped forward, I didn’t move with her, trying to place the song. When I did, I smiled.

  It was a piece called The Dragons’ Lament. Once, a bard had explained that it was about a dragon who slowly lost their hoard after building their nest somewhere unstable. I had always wondered about that, seeing as most stories had them living in caves. Either way, it brought me back.

  Together, we moved to the door, and I found it occupied by a single figure. He was a rotund man, though he appeared strong rather than fat. When he turned towards us, I noticed his handlebar mustache and his thinning blonde hair. Around his waist, he wore what a previous client had called a handyman’s skirt. It was a thick leather belt that was covered in tools of various sizes that dangled down and made him clink when he walked.

  Upon seeing me, he walked past the round table set in the center of the room and stuck out a hand without saying a word. Rita let me go and stepped back as I took it, and I found his hand calloused and his grip tight, though not overbearing. As the handshake ended, he grunted and gave me a nod.

  “You’re not a merchant’s son.”

  His voice was gruff and his words were slow, but the way his pale blue eyes, so similar to his sons, watched me, I knew it was due to him calculating the options of our interaction, not because he was stupid. In a way, that was a relief. People who thought things through were often the easiest to predict.

  “No, sir,” I said. “As I told your wife, I’m a Fixer.”

  He raised an eyebrow, and tapped at the largest hammer in his collection, one with a handle that came down to his knee and had a head the size of my fist. “A Fixer? Are you looking for work?”

  “Always, though I’m on my way to a large job so I can’t take anything long term.”

  “Ain’t that the way?” he laughed, a good natured sound. “There’s always something on the horizon. I swear every time I turn around there’s—”

  “Dear! What have we said about talking shop with the customers?” Myrtle said as she bustled into the room followed by Mulvinia, who refused to meet my eye.

  Both of the women carried trays, one with an uncorked wine bottle and a collection of glasses, and the other covered in appetizers. A quick activation of Item Valuation showed the wine was worth well over four gold pieces. The label said it was from a place called Lace Vineyards. That name, combined with the price, made me pause. I hadn’t realised the company was giving gifts, and it made me curious what they had done to deserve it.

  Rita’s warnings about the flowers came to mind, but I relaxed when I remembered she had mentioned that it needed to be brewed into tea. The wine, then, hopefully, would be safe. This was a ploy to show off, the same reasoning behind dressing up Rita. Myrtle was proving herself, though, why we warranted such interest, I wasn’t sure.

  Abel’s voice brought my attention back to the conversation, but I didn’t miss the way Mulvinia slipped out of the room at the first opportunity.

  “Ahh, my love, you know I can’t help myself around fellow tradesmen.” He smiled and reached out to pat my shoulder. “So, what is your discipline? Coaches? I saw Hubarrah out in the stables when I went to check on Damian. That must mean you’re travelling with Reeds?”

  “Men,” Myrtle whispered to Rita, who didn’t look like she knew how to respond.

  “Oh no, sorry. Though my father was a coach driver for hire for many years. I’m a businessman, mostly helping to get people’s finances in order.”

  The friendly look in his eyes faded, and his hand dropped back to his hammer. “Ahh. A bookkeeper.”

  “Of sorts.”

  “Abel, be nice,” Myrtle warned.

  “Well, it’s hardly men’s work, is it?” Abel said, in a tone that told me this wasn’t the first time he had this conversation. “A man who isn’t working with his hands is wasting everyone’s time. Like I told Damien if—”

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “I’m sorry about him,” Myrtle said, whispering to me as she handed me a glass of wine whose heady aroma was powerful even now. “He was raised out here and he has ideas about how the world should work.”

  My smile was my only response as she bustled away, though I noted her wording. A glance around the room let me see how well it was laid out. It reminded me of places I had seen back home, another point in favor of my theory that she wasn’t a country girl by birth.

  “Dear, do go and wash up before dinner? And try to be quick,” Myrtle said, cutting off Abels rant about how children these days didn’t know the proper end of a screwdriver.

  He gave a sigh, but moved out without complaint, though not before he shared a smile with his wife. No sooner had he vanished, then the powerful smell of horse walked through the door, attached to Tobias. The boy beamed up with his mother and showed her his clean hands.

  “I washed my hands first, Ma.”

  “That you did,” she said, her patient tone at odds with the laugh lines that crinkled around her eyes. “But perhaps you should wash the rest of you? Then Mulvinia has a meal ready for you. Be good for her, you hear?”

  “But ma, I took a bath yesterday,” he said with the barest hint of a whine.

  She shooed him out with a laugh. “And now you get to take one today. Off you go, or no story tonight.”

  Tobias pouted, but he left, and she shook her head. “The two of them are too similar, I swear. Have either of you thought about children in your future?”

  It was clear what the implications were, even if she didn’t say it out loud. I gave a small shake of my head as Rita looked away with a small scowl. That was worrying, and it made me wonder how much diplomacy I was going to have to employ tonight to keep her out of trouble.

  “No, not with how much travel I get into,” I said, laughing a touch to lighten the mood. “It’s hard to settle down. Is Reeds not joining us?”

  Myrtle gave a sly smile as she glanced between Rita and I and then answered my question. “Oh no. He’s not feeling well, poor dear. You’ll have to manage with our company tonight.”

  “Hardly a difficult proposition.” My smile was small, but I could see her own grin widen. “But do you know what’s wrong with him? I have asked, but he’s been rather closed off about it.”

  She sighed and moved to the table, where she waited for me to pull out a chair for her. I did, which earned me a smile as she sat down and gestured to the seat across from her. There were enough spots for the four of us, and it was clear from the way she watched Rita what she expected to happen.

  With practiced motions, I moved to pull out Rita’s chair as well. She looked at me, and then at it, before sitting down. It was obvious this kind of attention wasn’t something she enjoyed, or particularly appreciated. But tonight was about keeping Myrtle happy, as it was always unwise to upset our host. If she wanted me to play the noble lord for the ladies in the room, I would. The Goddess above knows I’d done worse for worse.

  “Lungrot,” she said, once Rita had settled, and I had taken my place beside her. “A recent condition, or so I’ve been told. He should, by all rights, be resting at home.”

  Her gaze fell on Rita, who met the slightly accusing stare with an impassive one of her own. “This trip was supposed to be visiting a doctor in Crecia. Though that’s a private matter.”

  “Of course,” Myrtle sniffed.

  “Perhaps one of you ladies could inform me on Lungrot?” I asked, before the two could start sniping at each other. “I have to admit, I’m not familiar.”

  Myrtle leaned forward in her chair, eyes flashing with excitement. “Oh, it’s a nasty disease. A buildup of magically infused air in the lungs. No idea how he got involved in something like that. One would usually have to be mining gemstones.”

  “Sasha identified it, but neither use nor Healer Anna could do much for him,” Rita added, her tone a touch sad.

  “Unfortunate. I doubt the medicine for that is cheap. Especially in the city.”

  Both women nodded at my statement, and Myrtle let out a theatrical sigh before adding. “One reason I left.”

  “I thought you had the trappings of a city girl,” I laughed along with her. “What made you move out here?”

  “My husband, what else? It is amazing what love can make a person do.”

  The way her eyes flicked between Rita and I made me shiver, and I let myself examine the room again. An intimate setting. An expensive bottle of wine. Music about how not taking care of what’s important causes someone issues. How much Myrtle had dressed the beast kin up in a way designed to draw the eye. I fixed my smile in place as she continued.

  “Though, of course. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, really. I’m sure you’ve had a person or two like that in your life?” She batted her eyelashes at me as she gave the shallowest nod toward my employer.

  I tried not to sigh as Rita glowered at her. This was going to be a long dinner.

  ***

  The dinner was as long as I predicted. Abel’s return had done little to temper his wife’s ideas, and throughout the meal, a lovely vegetable stew which went well with the wine, she continued to slip in suggestions. Beside me, Rita’s tail sat wrapped firmly around her waist, and she quickly turned into one-word replies. That left me to do what I could to carry the conversation on my shoulders.

  I did what I could to keep my answers simple and non-committal, a fact that seemed to do little but egg Myrtle on. She was like a dog with expensive meat and refused to let even the smallest chance to draw a bit more out of me go by.

  “So you simply dropped everything to follow her?” Myrtle asked, in her most blunt attempt at getting the answer out of me.

  “As I said, we met on the road, and I found her offer intriguing.” I smiled at her, trying to be polite as I kept her husband in my peripheral vision. “The mercenary business is something that caught my interest. Most of my work has been agricultural or manufacturing before now.”

  Abel muttered as he picked up his fourth glass of wine. “A fighter. Now that’s a proper profession for a man.”

  “And what about a woman?” Rita asked, the first question she had raised throughout the meal.

  “Of course,” he said, which earned him a surprised blink. “Everyone should know how to defend themselves. It’s a dangerous world. Why, the Peol Mercenaries were led by a woman, were they not? What was her name?”

  “They were.”

  I caught the way her hand tightened around her spoon at that name, and how her tail flicked. It was the same reaction as the last time someone had brought up the name. Abel didn’t appear to notice, but Myrtle did.

  “Did you have dealings with them, my dear?” she asked, her tone casual, but her eyes sharp.

  “We’ve never had the pleasure,” I jumped in before Rita could say something to get us into trouble. “They’re relegated to the capital now anywhere, are they not?”

  “So the rumours say,” Abel spoke into his glass, though he sounded distracted.

  Myrtle laughed, but this one didn’t have the same enthusiasm behind it. “Well, it must be a scary profession. Better them than I.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Vanessa!” Abel cried as he snapped his fingers. “That was her name. Though I have no idea what her last name is.”

  Rita’s eyes widened, and her tail paused. A genuine sign of startlement. Myrtle opened her mouth, but before she could question my employer, I hurried to interrupt. My attention turned to Abel, who appeared pleased with himself.

  “Tell me, who planted the flowers out front?” I asked.

  He blinked and then gave a slow nod. “Well, I planted them. Though it was Myrtle who told me which ones to pick. She has the head for aesthetics. I simply stop the roof from collapsing. Isn’t that right, dear?”

  “Oh, you do far more than that,” Myrtle said, and giggled, though I could see her still watching Rita. “I couldn’t run the place without you. Why do you ask, Mr. Burling?”

  “They were quite pretty. Plus, I heard they could make quite the tea.” I gave her a smile, though not one that anyone could construe as anything but polite.

  “Can they? I’m not much of a brewer. Honestly, I leave all the cooking to Mulvinia now. She’s quite the dear. Has all sorts of interesting recipes. Another one I couldn’t do without.”

  I laughed along with her and made a mental note to not accept any tea from either woman. Rita’s tail was back to shifting around, and I was grateful for it. That meant whatever had upset her had passed, though it was something we would need to talk about.

  Our conversation continued, though soon the meal was done. With it over, Abel took his leave. Myrtle and I rose, and I once more took Rita’s arm, which earned me a smirk from the older woman.

  “It must be nice to have an escort,” she said, as he followed her husband out the door.

  Rita pulled to go, but I held her in place for a few minutes longer. Only when I could no longer hear their footsteps did I leave the small room. She gave me a look, and I raised a finger to my lips. That earned me a look, and I sighed, then gave her a quick explanation.

  “The wine she served is too expensive for this place, and she’s growing poison in the garden. I want to conduct some industrial espionage.”

  “You want to spy?” she hissed.

  “Yes.”

  She shook her head. “There’s no honour in that.”

  “You appeared behind a man and cut his head off in the dark,” I pointed out. “Where’s the honour there?”

  “That’s different.”

  “How?” I asked.

  The question earned me a glare. “There’s an old combat saying. An opponent who doesn’t keep their back guarded is asking for it. He should have been watching better.”

  “Yeah?” I said. “We have a similar business saying.”

  “Oh?”

  “He who leaves information on the table gives those with eyes more power. There’s something wrong here, and I want to find out what.”

  She didn’t appear happy, but she followed me. I looked around until I found a locked door at the back of the inn. Voices from inside told me it was Myrtle and Abel, talking to a third voice I didn’t recognise. A use of Item Value Identification on the door let me know it was worth over a thousand gold.

  That meant either an enchantment, or a wood of such high quality it was magical by default, and I doubted it wasn’t the latter. It begged the question of how on earth they could afford it? Another mystery to add to the pile of ones that made me itch to get into their books.

  With care, I crept closer, my shoes silent on the floor. I pressed my ear to the door and tried to listen in, and frowned when all I could make out were muffled voices. Though I could tell who was talking by inflection and tone, it was like they were underwater. Their words were far too distorted to make out. A solid enchantment for one who didn’t want to be overheard.

  Annoyed, I stepped away and walked further into the dining room to an empty chair. I sat and gestured for Rita to join me. When she did, I let out a sigh and tapped a finger against the table.

  “We need to get in there,” I muttered as I glanced towards the door that remained shut tight.

  Rita said nothing, as though she expected me to come up with the plan here. I paused, trying to think about what we needed. Nearby in the kitchen, I could hear Tobias and Mulvinia chatting, and then a round of coughing from upstairs. It was thick and barking, but stopped almost as quickly as it started. What we needed was a distraction. My gaze moved to the ceiling, and I let out a smile.

  “Hey Rita?”

  “Yes?” she asked, her tone hesitant.

  “How hard is it to get Reeds to cough?”