I flashed her a toothy grin. “My High Temple Guardian, how do you feel about wolf meat?”

  Dhriti shrugged. “I eat everything.”

  That was… not ominous at all. I didn’t push it, because I hoped that didn’t include an elven diet. Instead, I just kept walking, her footsteps padding dutifully a step behind mine as the tunnels stretched on. The air down there clung like wet cloth, stinking of things I didn’t want names for.

  When we finally stumbled out of the sewers, I gulped the fresh air as if it were fine whiskey.

  Ahead opened a small plaza of the south commercial district… rosy-stone buildings stacked shoulder to shoulder, their polished faces catching the daylight in soft pink hues. A fountain trickled in the center, warped by years of coin tosses and kids climbing over it.

  Merchants hawked their wares under striped awnings, the clamor of voices and clatter of carts a welcome upgrade from dripping pipes and rat skittering.

  I smiled, but with the darkness gone, I noticed Dhriti’s gear in full daylight.

  Her trousers were frayed to threads, knees patched with whatever fabric she’d scavenged, and her longsword looked like it had been passed down through a dozen reluctant owners, every inch of the blade stained and dulled with rust. “Dhriti, we need to get you proper armor,” I said flatly, eyeing her up and down. “You look like… not your status.”

  She immediately dropped to one knee and bowed so low her forehead nearly touched the cobbles. “I apologize, my Queen—”

  I glanced around; people were watching. Great. With all the strength my noodle arms could muster, I grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her upright. “Dhriti!” I hissed. “Did you forget? No apologizing in public! I’m noble, but not queen!”

  She nodded, blinking like she’d just been told breathing was optional. Totally lost… I rolled my eyes. “Instead… do you know a shop with armor you’d actually like?” She tapped her chin, thoughtful. Meanwhile, I caught the side glances from passersby… half curious, half suspicious. Yeah, priority one was not looking like I picked up my retinue out of a back alley.

  Finally, Dhriti brightened. “One of my cousins… I mean, a very distant cousin, has a shop with good dwarven armor. Not far from here.” She pointed down one of the streets.

  “Perfect,” I said with a smile. “My dear purple mister of cloudy skies is footing the bill anyway.” Then, softer, I added, “You remind me of my old Guard Captain, Alma. I hope she’s okay.”

  Dhriti tilted her head, curious. “Why isn’t she with you here, es… uh… noble lady?” She tripped over the words, and instead of blushing, she hurried her pace as if forward momentum would cover the mistake.

  “That’s… complicated.” The words came out heavier than I meant. “I didn’t know her that long, and who knows what my enemy did with her. I’ll need to ask my seneschal what happened…”

  Dhriti stopped abruptly in front of… well, a cube. Literally a squat, blocky building with smoke drifting lazily from its chimney. A giant sign bolted to the front read in bold letters:

  BLACKSMITH.

  “Dhriti,” I deadpanned. “What’s this?”

  Her grin flashed quickly as she pushed the door open first. “We’re here!”

  Everything inside was so obsessively orderly that I hesitated to step in, afraid a single footprint would summon a cleaning brigade.

  Neat rows stretched across the walls… each rack dedicated to only one type of tool, weapon, or armor. Swords lined up like soldiers, blades angled identically, gleaming under white magic lantern light. Shields stacked by size from broad tower down to buckler, not a dent among them. Even the hammers were arranged head-to-handle in perfect symmetry, as if the entire shop had OCD engraved into its foundation.

  Dhriti didn’t even blink.

  She marched straight to the counter, where a spotless white surface gleamed as if it had been scrubbed with holy water. Behind it sat an elf in equally spotless clothing, his hair tied back so precisely it looked measured.

  “Welcome, D—” He caught sight of me and corrected smoothly, voice dipping into oily politeness. “D—warven lady! What guest have you led to us?” His fake smile landed on me like a sticky note: bright, cheap, and impossible to peel off. Ugh. Everyone here wore the same expression. I was starting to hate it.

  “We need armor for her,” I jabbed a thumb toward Dhriti. “She said you’d have something.”

  The elf’s eyes flicked back and forth between us, calculating, before he launched into his pitch. “You are at the right place. We specialize in sturdy dwarven craft, guaranteed to last in any battle. The question that remains is… what is your budget?”

  I grinned, leaning an elbow on the counter. “…Yes.”

  His pupils practically turned into gold coins. Greed bloomed across his features so fast it was almost funny. Almost. I bit down on the urge to call him out… Dhriti clearly knew him, and this was her turf. Fine. Let’s see how far he went.

  “I would start with the chestpiece,” he said smoothly, reaching behind him and pulling a cuirass off the rack. The shelf now had one lonely gap in its perfect order.

  …What? This junk wouldn’t protect a potato. Maybe he was about to slap a “special offer” sticker on it? No thanks. I could already hear my inner mom warming up for lecture mode.

  “The finest we have on hand—” he began, but his words froze as soon as he met my eyes. Frost shimmered faintly across my fingertips. Irwen was here.

  “I mean… I could look…” he stammered, taking a nervous step back.

  “Do. Not. Rip. Me—”

  A rough hand landed squarely on my lower back. I spun around, glare locked and loaded. The offender: a stocky dwarf in blacksmith’s leathers, his apron smeared with soot, boots tracking black prints across the immaculate floor.

  A pipe jutted from his mouth, smoke curling lazily toward the ceiling, where it left a stain that was definitely going to make someone cry later.

  “No need to get riled up,” he said, voice gravelly but amused. “My rep was joking. You clearly know what you’re doing.” The man in question gave a quick bow, then ducked into the back room.

  My eyes flicked back down at the pristine floor, now marked with a trail of black footprints. The dwarf caught me looking and smirked around his pipe. “Wife tends the shop. Thinks everything’s gotta be spotless to make customers feel… good. Nonsense. She’ll scold me bloody when she sees this.” He chuckled, exhaling another puff of smoke that snaked up to add one more stain to the ceiling.

  “Uncle Veer!” Dhriti practically launched herself at him, wrapping him in a hug. “I’m fully healed! She healed me!” To prove it, she darted in a tight circle around us, her boots clapping cheerfully on the now dirtier floor. “I can do this now! My q— noble lady gave me her service!”

  “…Uncle?” I blinked, raising an eyebrow. “Thought you said distant cousin.”

  Veer watched Dhriti’s endless circles with fond exasperation, then shook his head. “Just promised to look after her when I could. But her condition…” His gaze flicked to me, heavy with unspoken gratitude. “…was too expensive even for us. You, though—you’re not licensed, are you?” A low chuckle followed. “Heh. If only the grandmasters knew.”

  “He does!” Dhriti piped up immediately, stopping mid-spin. “He even sent a guard to—”

  “Dhriti!” I rolled my eyes and threw my hands up. “We’re incognito!”

  Veer barked a laugh, pipe wagging dangerously. “You picked the wrong woman to do that.”

  “I’m… starting to see that.” I folded my arms. “Can you give her good armor?”

  Veer snorted smoke through his pipe and glanced back. “Give? No. Sell—with family discount? Yes.” He exhaled a lazy cloud. “Full set. Breastplate, leg armor, gauntlets, boots, and a proper longsword. All for a hundred gold. That junk she’s wearing is a disgrace to any dwarf.” His eyes locked on Dhriti like a hammer striking steel.

  She immediately ducked behind me, peeking out like a child hiding from chores. My guard, everyone. Inspiring. “Why didn’t you give her this before?” I shot back.

  “Because she did not ask,” he grumbled. Then, with a sharp jerk of his head: “Foolish woman. Now come with me, and we’ll outfit you to be a proper guard to this fine lady.”

  “I didn’t want to ask for more things…” Dhriti whispered, shame in her tone. Still, she followed obediently after him, vanishing into the back.

  I barely had few minutes to breathe before another dwarf appeared. A woman this time… hair pinned tight, apron spotless, rag in hand like a weapon. Her sharp eyes swept over the room, landing first on me, then on the soot Veer had tracked across her perfect floor.

  Her face went white, then red.

  “Apologies on behalf of my STUPID HUSBAND!” she shrieked, voice carrying like a warhorn.

  Veer’s head popped out from the back, unconcerned. “It’s fine. Dhriti is in her service.” Then he vanished again before she could retort.

  Her jaw clenched so hard I thought her teeth might crack. She dipped into a stiff bow. “Sincere apologies, lady. Normally, we do not appear in such a mess. Now please excuse me—” She spun on her heel and stormed toward the back, her voice rising in a tirade. “YOU LEAVE SUCH A MESS IN FRONT OF—” The rest blurred into hammer-rattling fury, her scolding so loud even the racks seemed to quiver in sympathy.

  Dhriti didn’t wait for round two.

  She bolted out from the back, now clad in polished dwarven armor that gleamed under the pristine shop lanterns. A fitted breastplate hugged her frame, engraved subtly with runic edging; her gauntlets and boots matched, metal polished to a mirror shine. At her hip hung a proper longsword, blade glinting as if it had been forged yesterday. She looked like an honest-to-gods knight… confident and ready.

  “Queen, hurry while she’s scolding Uncle!” she hissed, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the door like we were children sneaking candy.

  I snorted, tossed two hundred gold onto the counter in passing, and let her drag me out of there before I got roped into domestic dwarf drama.

  We reached the inn when it was already evening.

  The air smelled of roasted meat and spiced ale, the indistinct murmur of voices rolling comfortably beneath beams blackened by years of smoke. I couldn’t help but smile. Now that I knew the inn wasn’t a tribute hall but a wolf-hunting base, I could finally walk in without the weird guilt.

  “Queen, you look thrilled,” Dhriti noted as I headed straight to the same table I’d claimed before. She slid into the chair across from me, still carrying herself like she was on guard duty… even in polished armor.

  “Of course I do,” I nodded, grinning. “We’re having wolves! Finally, proof I’m not just a mud-wolf hater, but… an eater.” I lowered my voice into a terrible villain cackle. “Mwahaha.”

  Before I could bask in my own theatrics, one of the patrons I’d bet against last time stood up and approached. He bowed, all polite and proper, then set a vase onto the table. Inside it was a flower with delicate, layered petals, blue shading into green like seawater caught in sunlight.

  “Uh…” I stared at him, caught completely off guard. “Thank you…?”

  He was trying—badly—to hide a grin. “Of course. For your information, that flower is sweeter than honey, and you can—”

  I narrowed my eyes and flicked a shard of frost at him. It shattered harmlessly against his chest, spraying glittering shards across his vest. His eyes went wide for half a second before he laughed, retreating to his table to the sound of everyone else roaring with amusement.

  Dhriti’s gaze followed him, suspicion darkening her features. “I wouldn’t trust him.”

  I was distracted from answering by the waiter, dressed in that ridiculous wolf-uniform again. Without even asking, he set down a familiar cup in front of me. “On the house. Steppe Bite. I’d advise you to actually use the stick this time.” His eyes twinkled knowingly as he glanced at Dhriti. “And for your guard?”

  She rattled off an order I immediately forgot because my attention was locked on the drink.

  Same bitter, sharp-scented tea, same stick perched beside it like a dare. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught glances from the neighboring table. Something had gone down while I was gone. But hey… I got a first flower gift as a woman, a free drink, and apparently I’d graduated to “regular.”

  That was a win in my book.

  Before I could debate whether to sip Steppe Bite raw or play nice with the stick, the kitchen doors banged open. Clara swept out, smiling wide, balancing a tray that looked fit to be presented to royalty. Well, I was Queen, so—

  BAD Charlie! We’re not going into the mode of I’m Queen, thus it is proper to have royal service.

  Steam rose in fragrant curls from a dish that filled the entire room with its mouthwatering aroma. “Special service!” she announced like she was unveiling a mythic artifact. “Golden Wolfsaddle!”

  Patreon

  Discord! Do you want to join ranks of Scamantha, Lunaris or Llama and have your own reader character? Patreons have the first pick, but if they don't want I ask on so come and chat about your favorite exploit or what would you like to see. Is there enough Gatei, or Lucas? No? Want more Irwen? Tell us on discord and future may be changed! :)