From the transcript of the interrogation of Florian Quinn by the Academy Prime: “Saberwine? Of course not.”

  Florian and Lane, figuring the girls would be cold - they always seemed to be cold - asked the hostess at the restaurant for a table by the fireplace, a request the short-haired woman granted with an attitude that suggested they were lucky to even be inside the building much less in a position to be making hospitality requests.

  “Man, you just keep knocking ‘em down, don’t you?” Lane chuckled as he slung his cloak over his seat. “Remind me to never ask you for advice on women.”

  Florian copied Lane, slinging his cloak over his chair across the table and shook his head, unable to believe his inability to get a civil response from … anyone these days. “At this point there’s got to be something wrong with me, right?”

  “Probably,” Lane agreed. “I think you’re too pretty, you need some scars or oh, I got it, a broken nose. Yeah, let’s try that? Come here, I can help you with that one pretty quickly, it won’t even hurt.”

  “If one more person gives me a hard time about a simple, every day thing, I’m going to take you up on that. Here they are.”

  Talia came bounding through the patrons and threw her hands around Lane in a loving hug, allowing Lane to pull her chair out theatrically, taking her cloak and pushing it in behind her. Yup, definitely no fight. Something else must have been bothering Lane earlier and Florian resolved to ask him about it the next time they found a quiet moment. Maybe with Thad.

  “Don’t even think about it, I’ll literally end you,” Madeline threatened Florian by way of greeting before plunking herself down on the chair next to him.

  “I wasn’t-I didn’t-,” Florian shook his head. “Break it,” he leaned forward toward Lane who laughed heartily.

  “What?” Talia asked with all the spunk of someone who just woke up and chugged ten espresso shots. So, normal Talia.

  “Florian here said if another person gave him a hard time about something that I should break his nose so he’d stop being so pretty,” Lane announced. “And I do believe Madeline just snapped at him for being seated quietly by himself and bothering no-one. Come here, buddy,” Lane said, making a fist.

  “No!” Madeline squeaked and Talia laughed. “His nose is fine the way it is.”

  “Uh, thanks,” Florian replied awkwardly. “You heard the lady, maybe next time, my brother.”

  Talia started fussing with Lane’s collar, trying to move the white fabric to reveal more of his scars but he lightly fought off her hand.

  “I’d like some wine,” Madeline announced.

  “A great idea,” Talia agreed, calling over the serving girl. They ordered, and the server brought their food and drink shortly thereafter, Florian ordering a meatloaf with peas and carrots that came out steaming from the kitchens.

  Lane poured them all wine from the bottle, stopping twice to pour more into Madeline’s cup after she played with a lock of blonde hair and told him to.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been drunk before,” Madeline commented once she finished her first cup and then her second cup then motioned Lane for a third. “Or gone dancing. Oh! Let’s go dancing later!.”

  “Trust me, babe, you’d know if you’ve been drunk,” Talia said. “It’s like your first orgasm. There is absolutely no mistaking it when it happens,” she laughed.

  Florian tilted his head and frowned. “What’s going on with you two? We’re not even done with our food.” Looking around the table, the four of them had a few bites remaining, but they all had food on their plates - Florian had most of his carrots to finish still.

  Talia waved a hand and pulled up her sleeves. “The pretty lady wants to go dancing, dumbass, let’s go dancing,” she said in a tight tone.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “Okay, let’s go dancing,” Florian agreed tentatively, looking toward Lane for some hint of what the fuck was happening but he seemed just as confused as Florian.

  “I don’t really dance,” he said.

  “Honey, the way those hips move, I’d say you do some dancing,” Talia said. “Did some dancing this morning if you know what I mean.”

  “Talia!” Madeline squealed.

  “What? Was that inappropriate?”

  Florian stifled a laugh into his remaining carrots.

  The server came and took their dessert order once their plates were clear, all four of them ordering the special, a strawberry topped slice of cheesecake.

  “What about you, pretty boy? Do you dance?” Talia turned the conversation to Florian.

  “I mean, are you talking about dancing? Or are you talking about __dancing__?”

  “Either,” Talia replied and Florian could feel Madeline’s ears perk up.

  “You’ve seen how women talk to me these days,” Florian said, trying to avoid giving a direct answer. “Been a while.”

  “I’ll dance with you,” Madeline said without thinking, the wine doing its work.

  “Yeah you will,” Talia teased and Lane snorted.

  Florian’s cheeks burned.

  “Talia! I meant the actual dance dancing, get your mind out of the Rot.”

  “Should we get another bottle of Saberwine before we go? I mean, we just got our dessert.” Madeline suggested, tapping a pocket in her pants subconsciously as though she just had to make sure something was still inside it.

  “Nah, there will be plenty of wine wherever we go. Let’s finish up and get out of here,” Florian said, leadership continuing to come naturally to him, though his feeling of inadequacy persisted whenever he led. He wondered about the great leaders of the past, had they ever felt this way? Had the Academy Prime?

  Talia spoke next. “Oh, maybe we can even do some shots! They’re like espresso shots except with super strong wine,” Talia explained to Madeline.

  “I know what a shot is,” Madeline answered with heat, even though Florian suspected she learned about it for the first time that very second.

  The foursome paid their bill and exited, stepping out into the night sky of Saberwyn City, the only light the moon and the stars and the occasional torch and oil lamp. Talia skipped ahead, holding Lane’s hand happily, evaluating the potential night time establishments for the right ‘vibe’.

  “What was wrong with that one?” Madeline asked when they passed the second establishment, a tucked away place with a thatched roof called the Long Skirt Lady.

  “Looks dirty,” Talia said.

  “It does not,” Madeline argued but allowed herself to follow Talia further down the main Saberwyn City strip. They passed more shops - most of them closed - the only ones showing any patronage were the inns, the taverns and the adult establishments.

  After Talia dragged them past the Friendly People to another torrent of complaints by Madeline that Talia dismissed with a wave of a hand, she finally found a place that met her exacting standards though Florian couldn’t tell the difference between this one and the other ones they passed.

  The Coming Home was well taken care of, at least, with an attendant taking their cloaks and exchanging a scrap of paper with a number on it to mark which cloak they deposited. Talia grabbed Madeline’s hand and they went straight to the barman to order drinks, Florian perking up when he noticed the telltale upside down triangles on the man's face and his blonde hair, marking him without a shadow of a doubt as from Grinnrock.

  When the man saw Madeline his face brightened and he waved them over past the dancing people in the middle of the place, counting the four of them out and putting down four small glasses on the counter. “My, oh my!” he practically shouted with glee and immediately began mixing a drink into a silver container, taking ingredients from underneath the bar one at a time, “a fellow from the homeland! You’re the first I’ve seen enter this place in a half dozen years, what brings you this way?”

  “Academy,” Madeline grunted, looking uncomfortable.

  “Of course, of course!” the man smiled, “tell me, how is the capital? Still dirty?” he shook a metallic container in both hands then poured the dark amber liquid into the four small cups and then after a thought he poured one for himself, holding the glass up. “To Grinnrock!”

  The four of them scrambled to imitate the bartender, raising their glasses and repeating his words. “To Grinnrock!”

  A salty taste assaulted Florian’s tongue that changed to a sweet caramel on the way down. “Huh, that’s kinda nice,” he said appreciatively.

  Madeline, on the other hand, had a scrunched expression on her face. “What is that, it’s gross.”

  The bartender gave her a peculiar look, expression changing. “You don’t recognize bellaw? Every Grinnrocker knows this taste.”

  She coughed, frowning, but recovered quickly. “That’s not how they make it in my village. Perhaps the trappings of the City have made you soft. We use different ingredients.”

  “Perhaps,” the bartender agreed slowly but Florian could tell the man didn’t quite believe her words for some reason.

  “Another round of bellaw please,” Madeline ordered. “But make it like they would in the village. None of these fancy salts.”

  “Are you sure?” Florian whispered to Madeline once the bartender turned his back to rummage in the cabinet for whatever he determined to be not fancy salts. Beside him, Talia whispered in Lane’s ear before kissing his neck.

  “Yes,” she said testily.

  The bartender poured the next round of bellaw, and Madeline made an exaggerated show of enjoying this shot far better than the last.

  “Now. Let’s dance!”