The rest of the day was spent recovering, since no one wanted to be on the road at night. As far as I could tell, no one had an issue with it either. Jason was even loving the attention from the miners, getting drinks in exchange for tales of our trip through the tunnels. They weren’t even remotely accurate, but I didn’t care enough to correct him.

  I was more worried about Paige, who was uncharacteristically quiet. Jumpy too, if her reaction to Barnaby sitting down across from her was anything to go by. I was going to get up from my spot in the corner of the tavern until she hugged him and he started to pat her back.

  “It is good she has someone.” Zaion said when he saw what I was looking at. He’d been sitting with me for the same reason I was in the corner, to avoid more people. “Even if it is a bit superficial.”

  I shrugged and idly spun the half-empty mug in my hands, the gentle scraping sound it made against the table soothing for some reason. I didn’t respond to the elven mage, not really having any input to give him.

  I was more occupied with what needed to come next. We were going to look for a second entrance, preferably closer to the quest objective. Melvin had sent another message soon after I’d sat down, begging for help. I’d sent back that I was working on it.

  But did I really want to save him?

  “She is not the only one with problems, is she?” Zaion said, voice lowering so it was harder to be overheard. Not that we would be, with Deacon belting out some drinking song on stage that most people were going along with.

  My eyes met his before I went back to looking over the tavern, “My problems are more complicated and not as immediate.”

  Zaion nodded like he’d heard it all before. “Things usually are not as complicated as they first look.”

  Groaning, I took a large swig from my mug before looking at him, “And what would you know about complicated problems?”

  He smiled gently, “Many things. I was supposed to wed and put down roots instead of running around slaying monsters.”

  “Oh yeah? Sounds kind of boring.” I replied, honestly.

  The elf laughed, “Oh, it would have been. There is nothing wrong with boring, though.” He sighed, a wistful smile on his lips, “But sometimes it is not meant to be.”

  “It doesn’t sound that complicated.” I commented.

  “I suppose not.” He replied, “But the settlement I lived in had a few rules. The first, is you do not get to choose your class when you finish your base class.”

  I blinked, “That seems… wrong. On multiple levels.”

  “Mhm, so most adolescents in my settlement thought.” He said, nodding, “Two, workers are not allowed to kill, even in self defense.”

  “And that seems self destructive…” I furrowed my brow, “How large was this settlement?"

  Zaion stopped before continuing with his little list, “Huh. A few thousand? Less than Cotton Rock.”

  “How would they keep everyone safe if the average person wasn’t supposed to kill in defense? There’s actual monsters out in the wild.” I didn’t want to think ill of where Zaion had come from, but it was hard not to.

  He laughed, a note of bitterness around the edges of it, “Believe me, I know. I understand in concept why they thought it was a good policy. They wanted combat experience to go to the combatants.”

  If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  I practically felt my brain pause when he said that. “But… why?”

  Zaion cleared his throat and put on a more pompous sounding voice, “Violence taints everything it touches and everything touched by it should only be used to prevent further violence.” He sighed, “Our religious leader believed violent acts tainted the experience. Tainted experience leads to tainted levels, which leads to tainted classes and so on.” He rolled his hand in a cyclical motion as he finished.

  “Do you believe that?” This was the first time I’d heard of such a belief.

  He shook his head, “No. Well… not anymore.” He grimaced, “When I was younger, I was a bit of an idiot. Followed what our shaman said, priests were only in churches,” He added in explanation, “Which was another lie. So, I was all set to have a wife and a farm.”

  “And something happened.” I guessed.

  “And something happened,” He confirmed. “The bane of all isolated locations happened, bandits. A group of mostly humans going from home to home armed with blades and taking people to wagons. When it came to be my time… I took offense to their treatment of my wife.”

  “Did you kill them?” I asked, leaning forward.

  He nodded, “They had already been injured, so that probably helped. Since part of my job as a farmer was harvesting, maintaining, and preserving the food I grew, I had picked up a number of magic skills. Mostly water based, if you have not guessed.” Zaion reached down to pat one of the jugs on his hip even now.

  “So, when a woman started kicking my wife while she was on the ground trying to protect my child, I tried to think about how to stop it. How to buy time for some kind of guard to get there.” His lips quirked into a grim smile, “How to Preserve them for the guards.”

  I shuddered, “What happened?”

  “I cast my preservation spell on the bandit hurting my wife. I then got a very thorough education in how much liquid is in a person as it was rapidly extracted from them. I had been capable at using magic to harvest crops as well, so I just tweaked what I was harvesting.” He looked me in the eyes, “Turns out, a Hydroponic Farmer gets enough magic to make quit the mess.”

  My mind conjured images based solely on what I’d seen him do in the tunnels. It didn’t even take a lot of imagination to picture people with holes punched through them or drained of their blood. “What happened after?”

  “My wife called me a monster and I was exiled.” He said with a tone like he was discussing the drinks menu. “I think someone was going to try and make me disappear too, but never got the chance.”

  I rolled my eyes, “Your story doesn’t sound too complicated, just full of idiots.”

  Zaion barked out a laugh, “I suppose so. It is not a skill I have developed much, which may be part of the problem.”

  We sat in silence for a while, listening as Deacon started to sing about some king walking around naked and everyone lying about it. I’d only started paying attention in the middle and lost interest pretty fast.

  “So, what is this complicated issue on your mind?” Zaion asked, apparently tired of waiting.

  I stared at my mug, “If someone stabbed you in the back, could you forgive them?”

  “Are we speaking literally or metaphorically?” He asked.

  I blinked, “Uh, lets say both?”

  He tapped a finger to his chin as he considered it, “I suppose the circumstances would matter a great deal in that. I can see why it would be complicated.”

  “Worst part, I don’t remember what happened. Not really.” I sighed in frustration and leaned forward, thunking my head against the table.

  Zaion was quiet for a time, and I just sulked on the table. Really, I don’t even know why I’m this conflicted on helping Melvin. It’s not like I have to be around him after helping him.

  “You should probably kill them.” Zaion said eventually and I practically fell out of my chair sitting up so fast to look at him in confusion.

  “That’s… not what I expected you to say.” I said, trying to steady myself.

  Zaion shrugged, “Without knowing more, it is the only logical action. You cannot trust them and they have already injured you once. If you have to interact with them, then it is likely they will do so again, correct?” His head tilted slightly, “Unless there is a reason no to.”

  I shook my head, “I don’t know. I’ll think about it, though.” I gave him a tight smile, “Thanks Zaion.”

  He shrugged, “No thanks required. You are a determined woman, and I would like to get to know you more.”

  And I was suddenly less comfortable, “I… don’t really-”

  He chuckled, “While you are pleasant to look at, I am not looking for a physical relationship. Do not fear.”

  I felt myself flush and that caused him to laugh more.

  So I kicked him under the table.