So, it turned out a balneae was just a small private bathhouse.

  Little confusing since I’d never heard the word before, but I collected the pieces of the concept together as Aira explained with all the exuberance of a giddy child. My lack of a general reaction once I was made a witness to something that was essentially a hotspring peeved Aira just a little, the woman was seemingly hoping for more of a reaction. She got some of that when I dipped my toes in the water.

  The shit was scalding compared to the well water I normally washed myself with, getting an embarrassing yelp out of me despite clearly seeing the steam. That mollified Aira a bit, but she was obviously hoping for more.

  At that moment, I made it my personal mission to mask the excitement I had for a proper bath. A villager wouldn’t know the heavenly comfort of such things! It definitely wasn’t out of spite for my earlier gaff.

  “So?” Aira hummed, trying and failing to act casual. “What do you think? Much better than those horrendous river washes, hmmm?”

  “It’s okay,” I lied.

  Aira hummed with a sly smile. “Just okay, hmmm?”

  “Why are you humming so much?”

  “No reason,” Aira said, smile turning slightly wider. “I was just wondering why my little apprentice would be so cruel as to lie to their mentor.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Bullshit, you’re not that good at reading people.”

  “Underestimate your opponent at your own peril,” Aira intoned. “But seriously, you don’t need to go outside the city to clean! Isn’t that great?”

  “Villagers don’t do that,” I grumbled. “Or at the very least my village didn’t. Well water was good enough for us, entirely because the river was way too dangerous to bathe in.”

  “Hmmm, always assumed they would, seems easy enough.”

  “Like I said, maybe other villages do that, mine just didn’t.” I shrugged.

  “Where was your village, if you don’t mind me asking?” she said.

  “South.”

  Aira snorted. “I figured that much. There’s just like, only four villages with elves confirmed between Anik and Rolka.”

  “They keep track of that?” I turned with a raised brow.

  “The census is public information.” Aira shrugged. “Besides, elves get special treatment in documentation. Your kind is too rare to leave unnoticed.”

  “That’s not creepy at all,” I said.

  Aira barked a laugh and pat me on the back. “It is! But nobility are weird with their priorities, they can’t integrate elven blood into their heritage, but they can have them as retainers. Though the emperor doesn’t take kindly to force or coercion.”

  “I imagine few are willing to suffer the cities, even with the offerings of the magistrates,” I said, leaning back in the water and staring at the segmented ceiling. “Eternity changes your perspective on what matters.”

  “Wise for your age,” Aira nodded. “Which means you’ve probably already figured out that you’ll be of keen interest since you came here.”

  “Yeah,” I sighed.

  Aira nodded, some of the playfulness leaving her features. “There’s a limit to what I can protect you from, and your brusque attitude won’t fly with our betters. The hunters guild may not be one for manners, but if you plan on staying in the city you’re going to have to learn how to exercise that muscle.”

  “What a pain in the ass,” I mumbled.

  Aira leaned back, basking in the waters. The others in the bathhouse had made decent space for us, though there weren’t many. my mannerisms had become habit by that point, and changing them for the sake of safety…didn’t rankle me, it was logical. That pissed me off more than being forced to be polite ever could though.

  Fucking fake ass bitches exist in any world it seemed, and I was going to have to learn their ways. I sighed.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Aira flicked her gaze to me with some sympathy, and chose to change the topic. “Those scars from the goblins?”

  “Not these ones,” I lied, explaining how they healed so fast…well I’d prefer to keep my magic a secret. And my interaction with the orc especially. “Got attacked when I was younger. I just hid when the horde passed through my village.”

  Something flashed in Aira’s eyes, but I couldn’t parse it. “Sure,” she said as she looked around her casually. Though it was practically a show for me. Great, another one with their suspicions. Did Healer Ken tell her or was this her own brain connecting the dots? Maybe she examined the broken vertebrae.

  Too many points that could lead her to the truth. I needed to get better at hiding shit.

  “You’re rapidly making me realize that I suck ass at keeping secrets,” I grumbled.

  Aira shrugged. “You’re welcome.”

  “That wasn’t a sign of gratitude.”

  “Don’t care.”

  Walking through the city covered in shit and carrying the head of a giant rat certainly did something for my reputation. Nothing I found flattering, but trying to control fame was like tangoing with a bull, better to not if you didn’t know what you were doing. So now I’d been labeled with the moniker of Elfie The Rat Slayer, and the only solace I could find was that they didn’t know my name.

  I’d probably die of embarrassment having that title next to my name.

  Made walking through the streets pretty easy though, people liked to make space for the crazy elf girl. Elves didn’t really live in cities, so they all assume I was the fabled slayer of rats. Though there was at least three others here, two under the employment of either the wealthy or the magisters.

  One guard captain and the other a very prolific maker of threads.

  The last one was the son of said thread-maker.

  I’d have to meet them sometime, if only for the kinship. Though they definitely weren’t related if neither my mother nor Rio told me of them. I had…about two dozen relatives if I’d counted correctly? That was including my mysterious grandfather. Probably more but it wasn't like I’d bother to find them, I was too busy preparing for the End for that.

  If only there were towns in the northern portion of the empire. Could’ve acted as a gathering point for my kind. Strange that the emperor didn’t like to invest in towns of a middling size. My mother said that was something to do with his elven perfectionism, but that felt a little racist. Speciesist? Elves were considered a subset of humans so…racist works.

  Point being it was hard to mistake me, especially with the purple of my eyes.

  It could get annoying how genuine street rats seemed to have an affinity for me now, trying to get me to play their asinine games. I participated, but only because I had to! I…uh…had to maintain an image?

  That sounded close enough.

  Definitely not because I wanted to maintain some semblance of a social life, and my fellow apprentices were a massive pain in the ass with their idol worship. If anything, these brats were the opposite, bordering on being too cheeky with my title.

  Which was how I found myself playing the monster in their little game of ‘monster hunters’.

  “Roar!” I bellowed with grand purpose. “None of you silly humans can stand against me! I am a Jojakim, and I will have your intestines for dinner!”

  “Jojakims can’t talk, idiot!” a boy named Gar said as he pointed a stick at me.

  “This one can, dickpickle,” I cackled as I charged them.

  Gar peddled back and another child stepped forward to meet me, pretend sword in hand. “I am Riri the mighty, face my…might!”

  “Creativity certainly isn’t your strong suit, Riri,” I said, swiping a ‘paw’ at the girls ‘sword’, pushing it aside for a moment. Allowing me to ‘pounce’, tackling Riri to the ground. I grinned wide at the girl and pinched her cheeks. “It seems your skills are a match for it though.”

  A branch struck me on the head, hard enough to actually hurt, and I turned to Gar who scratched the back of his head and gave a sheepish smile. “Sorry?”

  That didn’t save him from my wrath, being a victim to the almighty ear pull, whining all while Riri giggled. There were others, playing their games in different parts of the alley that I was careful not to disturb, but these two were the only ones willing to do something resembling fighting.

  Which was the only kind of games I found acceptable. So long as they didn’t strike my stomach, that was still healing, and I just stopped shitting blood.

  I let out a sneeze and let go of Gar’s ear, who rubbed it fiercely while hissing out his complaints.

  “What the hell, Riri!” Gar said, glaring at the girl. “You could’ve done something to help! Smack her upside the head or tackle her or something.”

  “S-sorry, it was just too funny.” Riri struggled between laughter.

  I nodded with magnanimous purpose. “Indeed, I am fucking hilarious. To claim otherwise is to test the divine!”

  “Which one? The god of rats?” Gar grumbled.

  “I don’t think they’d take her in, considering her title and all,” Riri said.

  “Who needs a rodent god!” I said. “I speak of Yorokrom.”

  Gar snorted at me. “You wish, he’s got better things to do than care for your reputation.”

  I shrugged. “You’d be surprised about how much he cares for the…dignity of his champions. A little overzealous if you ask me.”

  “Oh?” Riri’s eyes lit up. “Do you have stories?”

  As if the words were a siren call, all the other street rats stopped their games and turn to stare at me.

  There… wouldn’t be any harm in sharing a few stories from the game, would there? At least the ones I remembered.

  “Of course, little Riri, let me tell you about Brock The Boulder…”