“She’s harmless,” said the cleric. This had the feeling of a well-worn conversation between the two.
“She is absolutely not harmless,” said the small one. Hannah had, by this point, pegged them as both belonging to the party of this ‘Lola’ creature, and if she were an alienist, and the tall one was a cleric of Oeyr, and they had a wizard somewhere with an arm missing or reattached, then that really narrowed down what role the shorter boy could fill. Hannah was guessing that he was a bard. “Do you understand that she lies through her teeth about everything and does every day at least twice? She knows us, what makes us tick.”
“She’s really not that violent though,” said the cleric. “I mean, you’ve seen her, she doesn’t sink into it in the dungeons. It’s all the same stuff that he always argued about, rumors, things that, sure, maybe happened in undone days, but you have no way of actually knowing. And in my opinion, she just doesn’t have it in her.”
“Other stuff though,” said the probable-bard. “Manipulation? Digging for secrets? Flirtation?”
“That, yes,” admitted the cleric. “And maybe more than flirtation. Those rumors I take more seriously.”
“Would you ever?” asked the bard. “If she came to you?”
“Not something I want to talk about,” said the cleric.
“Because if you would, then there’s a chance she did,” said the bard.
“Oh, that was great!” said Mizuki, pushing forward her bowl, which was empty. She didn’t seem to be aware of the other conversation, which was going on not too far away, loud enough that the eavesdropping hadn’t presented any difficulties. Loud enough that Hannah didn’t feel too bad about violating the expectation of privacy, more to the point. “Were you serious about learning to make noodles? Because we’re not going to be in Liberfell all that long, and it would be best for you to learn what you can from these people, if they’re willing to teach us. We could get a few tips.”
“Those two boys over there,” said Hannah, speaking low and nodding her head in their direction. “Dungeoneers. Part of Lola’s party.”
Mizuki looked over at them, conspicuously staring, then gave a wave, and at that point, Hannah had no choice but to turn and look at them, putting on a smile and giving them a nod.
“Hey!” Mizuki called, louder than she needed to be. “We’re Alfric’s new party.”
Hannah sighed as Mizuki got up from her seat and went over to them, then she followed after. There was an entire conversation that they really should have had, and Mizuki had elected to be impulsive, which was to be expected from a sorc. She was also on her second glass of wine, which probably didn’t help matters.
“Alfric’s new party?” asked the cleric. “Sorry, you mean Alfric, Alfric Overguard, is here, in Liberfell?”
“Mizuki Yono,” said Mizuki, placing a hand on her chest. “Team sorc. This is Hannah… Carthaigh, cleric of Garos.” She stumbled over the last name but got it eventually.
The cleric turned to the bard. “Why is Alfric in Liberfell?”
“The better question is why are we in Liberfell,” replied the bard. “But we’re being rude.” He turned to Mizuki. “Grig Tinsmith, bard, Mardin Longshore, cleric of Oeyr. Vertex.” The last word hung there like it was supposed to hold some meaning.
“Pleased to meet you,” said Mizuki. “Now, what horrible secrets is Alfric hiding, if any?”
“Mizuki,” said Hannah.
“What?” she asked.
“I don’t think this is the way to go about whatever you think you’re goin’ about,” said Hannah.
“If he’s got horrible secrets, we want to know, don’t we?” asked Mizuki.
“Ay,” said Hannah. “But I’d be worried about rumors and bad feelin’s.”
“Well I’m not going to take anything they say without a grain of salt,” said Mizuki. “But Alfric didn’t say not to talk to them, and they’re here, to be talked to, so what am I, involuntarily bound to silence?” She was a bit worked up, it seemed, and Hannah backed off.
“I don’t think he had any horrible secrets,” said Grig. “He was just a stick in the mud with a bit too much of his parents’ doting.” He shrugged. “And maybe a little bit full of himself, though I guess we never saw him in action to see if he could back it up. I think he could have, personally.”
“He can,” said Hannah.
Grig nodded. “But horrible secrets… well, there were rumors, as you say, but it was the same kind of thing you always hear about chrononauts. The ‘world without consequence’ stuff.”
“Which I never bought into,” said Mardin.
“But you still broke a party you’d formed with him?” asked Mizuki.
Mardin shifted. “Well, Lola—how much do you know?”
“Most things,” said Mizuki, which to Hannah did not feel at all true. “Lola came along and wanted to sink things for him by taking away what he’d built up. But what’s not clear is why you’d agree.”
“It was his self-reliance thing,” said Grig. He crossed his arms and looked mildly defensive. “The Overguards, in the adventuring world, are pretty famous. There’s a trophy in the League called the Overguard Trophy. There’s a maneuver called the Overguard maneuver. There’s a place where the Junior League does training called Overguard Hall. It’s… kind of a lot. A lot to live up to, but Alfric always seemed like he had absolutely zero problems with that. The problem for us is that we were getting pretty much nothing out of it. His family has a huge communal vault, and he was allowed to pull two low-tier items from it. They could have outfitted everyone in the party five times over.”
“Ten times,” said Mardin.
“Ah, so it was about money,” said Mizuki. She looked satisfied with that explanation.
“Not money,” said Mardin, shaking his head. He seemed less defensive, even though what Mizuki had said felt like a base accusation of greed to Hannah. “It was about entads, which were going to have a pretty significant impact on our ability to actually do the dungeons. Alfric, basically from the start, years ago when we all met in the Junior League, was talking about how it was important to find storage and transport and kit up as quickly as possible. But there was a whole vault full of it!”
“It might have been one thing if his parents hadn’t allowed it,” said Grig. “But he’d always get sanctimonious about it and lecture us on the virtue of self-reliance and the adventure of cobbling things together, making do, stuff like that. I don’t know if he ever asked them or not, but to us it was always the same thing, like he was telling us we should be happy about starting from virtually nothing.”
“It’s what he likes,” said Hannah. She folded her arms and frowned. “You should have seen him goin’ on about a heavy piece of kit we got. He was happy as a clam about luggin’ the thing around.”
“Right,” said Grig. “But just for myself, my parents weren’t poor, exactly, but between the Junior League and my tutoring and my sisters, they struggled a bit. They were never on the dole or anything, but… Alfric’s family had this gift, this amazing gift that allows them to fit into all kinds of useful roles, all of which have a pretty high pay, plus the Interrium gives them some kind of pay just for existing and benefits if they have kids. And that’s on top of being able to live each day a few times, which gives them more time to gain skills and knowledge, and their ability to try things and fail horribly without consequence.”