“You’re sure it's not a bother? We’ve turned your bar into a hostel!” Irima Innkeeper said, glancing around the place in mild horror. Unfortunately, her inn in Mitoras didn’t exist anymore.

  “And had this gone another way, I’m sure you would’ve turned your inn into an alehouse. Refugees are welcome here for as long as we can support them,” Edra replied with a smile. “And maybe even if we can’t.”

  I honestly wasn’t sure how she did it. Mom was struggling to deal with having just a single family of strangers in our home, but I’d barely even met them yet. I went home to sleep in my parents’ bedroom and was typically up with the sun. My parents stopped by and slept at odd hours during the day… at least I hoped they did.

  The Patenteers, who had run a patent office in Mitoras that serviced the entire Ophiscian lake area, were a quiet little family of three, just like us, except their son was only two. They were the most unintrusive, grateful guests we could ever hope for. They’d come to us, naturally. We were the only people in town who actually had work for them, with my pepper paste.

  Their presence still drove Mom up the wall. By contrast, Edra’s bar was absolutely swarming with people who had nowhere else to go, and she took it in stride. The bar did have a few rooms that were rented out to travelers every now and then, but it was called a bar, not a tavern, for a reason.

  “Be that as it may, we can’t impose on your generosity forever,” Irima said.

  I wished I could stop imposing, myself.

  Mom had taken up permanent residence at the Pepper Pit, as the locals had taken to calling the place, and Dad was losing sleep manning the watches. The way his ‘upgraded talent’ had probably saved the village was not being squandered.

  Meanwhile, I… well.

  I felt like I was being punished for stumbling into the situation and doing something about it, rather than running away. Mom was furious. Dad was paradoxically mad at Reid for not staying with me, even though we’d had no indication that the beach might not be safe.

  I was confined to the bar. Forever. Maybe longer if Mom had her way. If she could’ve made it happen, she’d have a guard stationed on me for my walks to and from the house!

  I sighed, having heard some variation of Irima and Edra’s conversation every day since the refugees had started coming in. I was starting to think Irima would prefer to sleep on the streets than to owe anyone anything, but us lake people were like that. Stubborn to a fault.

  I grinned, amused at the similarities between the two women.

  Oxana suddenly strolled into the bar, and I fixed my gaze on her, willing her to come speak with me.

  “Oxana! Good to see you. Time for a pint?” Edra asked.

  Oxana smiled. The woman immediately drew the eye in Pemolar’s Hill. She was the only dark-skinned person I’d ever seen in this world, and I honestly had no idea how she’d come to be raised here. I was glad she had been, though. She was a fantastic hunter, and her family was always free with deer jerky and venison, just like we’d often shared bread with them. Her last name had been Rancher until she’d officially changed it to Hunter last year with Korlotom’s permission.

  “Not right now. Got to let Tom and the Mayor know what I found down at the beach,” she said happily, her tone clashing with the bar’s more somber mood. “Was hoping I might find one of them here, but you need to know too.”

  “Need to know what?” I piped up over the dull murmur of the crowded room.

  Everyone in this room was bandaged, lying down, healing, or sleeping, but many visitors were also staying by the makeshift bedsides that every table and chair in the place had become. Family members of the injured didn’t really have anywhere better to go, and they perked up just like I had at Oxana’s entrance, bored and curious.

  “Well, if it isn’t the little carrot! Have you been healing up okay, Mera?” she asked pleasantly as she and Edra stepped over.

  “Would be better if people would stop calling me vegetable names. Arm still hurts, but at least the twins are safe.”

  “Right. That was good work. You might make a fine hunter with courage like that. Hard to believe you were only three feet tall just a year ago!” she said, holding up a hand at about the height of my waist, beaming a beatific grin at me.

  “Is this really the time, Oxana?!” I asked, scowling.

  She chuckled.

  “Well, if that’s the way you’re going to be, perhaps you don’t want to know what I found?” she said playfully.

  I sighed.

  Oxana was a lot like a big sister I never knew I wanted. Constantly playful, even in serious situations, she was probably where I got some of my own attitudes from. The difference was that she was terrible at reading a room, but even she could see that I wasn’t in the mood for the joke right now.

  She was about to comment when the door opened again.

  “Here you go, Mera!” came Omoali’s overjoyed voice as she beelined straight for my table. As she approached, she paused, noticing Oxana. “Sorry, am I interrupting?”

  Oxana shook her head as Omoali set a bunch of materials down on my table. “Just letting Mera and Edra know about how those goblins got to the beach. I’m sure you’d like to know even more than she would. Long story short, it was just pure luck that they got in. They weren’t even trying to be sneaky. Just wandered in through the beach when no one was there to see.”

  Omoali grimaced. “Are the patrols so thin?”

  Oxana’s smile faded a bit as she considered.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “They were. They’re thickening, though. More and more refugees are swelling the ranks. It’s… sad how many people have been killed already. I’m trying not to think about it too much, but we got word from Lindolen. They were run over like Mitoras. Potato faced a few attacks, and they’re holding strong, though. Takin’ in Lindolen folks just like us for Mitoras. We’re gonna be okay.”

  Her need bubble disagreed. She needed something to help her kill war trolls. As usual, it needed metal and wood, but this time there was also some ether dust. Some sort of weapon, I thought.

  I shuddered, remembering Dad’s scythe, and wondering if it might not be better if I didn’t make any more weapons, but I wasn’t going to exclude Oxana, or anyone that I loved here, just because I was afraid of what their weapons might do after the fact.

  “Thank the heavens for small mercies,” Omoali replied. “And for you, Mera.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” I said before turning to the hunter. “Oxana, I need you to get me a lot of metal. It doesn’t have to be fancy, just metal. Small bits of it like these will work but yours can be bigger if you can find smelted bars. Gonna need a few logs, and I also need ether dust. Ten handfuls of it, at least. Maybe a whole basket.”

  “Well, aren’t you just a little task master? Edra? I think Mera’s trying to steal your job!” she said playfully.

  “Ox this is serious! You need to have this. I think it’s a weapon but if you don–!”

  She interrupted me by patting me on the head in a way that I’d always hated. “It’ll be fine, Mera. I’ll get you your bits and bobs. Promise! Wood, Metal, Ether dust. Got it. I need to go now though.”

  There was no way for me to know how long it would be before someone needed something. She could need the weapon in a week, or in ten minutes. It wasn’t like I’d be able to get all the metal I needed anyway. I was pretty sure Sebinet was baffled by the sheer amount of requests for loose metal he was getting lately.

  I sighed, turning back to Omoali. I hadn’t specifically learned anything new about her, but her own need bubble’s requirements had decreased dramatically when I’d saved her daughters. It seemed there was more than one way to form a close bond.

  “This is more than enough. Ready for a little show?” I asked with a bit of a smirk.

  Omoali beamed and nodded eagerly. The residents of the bar were watching with undisguised interest. I’d already made a few items in front of everyone before the place had filled to the brim with refugees, and rumors had spread. Elite crafter talents were also very rare.

  It was always a bit of a risk doing this. So far, none of my crafts had been as flashy as Mom’s. Otherwise I would’ve had to make sure all of the crafts were private. I was beginning to believe that my truly close relationships ended up with superior items, but perhaps there was just something different about Mom as well. Either way, I’d made enough crafts at this point that I felt like I could predict if something miraculous would happen, and Omoali’s was quite plain.

  “Ooohh. I’ve been wanting to see this,” Oxana said. “I really need to get going right after, though.”

  I nodded to her and turned to the materials. Leather. Bits of Metal. Thread.

  Everything was in order, so I activated my talent.

  Leather began to ripple, and the thread lifted itself into the air, knotting itself around and through the leather. The metal thinned into rings that seemed to multiply and expand, before lining themselves onto the armpits and sides of the article. I quickly realized that it was a gambeson. A type of leather armor that had metal chain links embedded in the cloth.

  Its collar widened, and the leather took on a shining, finished quality that reminded me of a modern leather jacket.

  “Wow!” a small kid said, as he watched the crafting unfold.

  I was amazed too, but was also starting to feel a little redundant. If my talent did all my crafting for me, then what had been the point of all of that time spent experimenting? I missed my lab. I missed the joy of discovering new things and mixing chemicals. I had fire magic now, and if I trained it enough, I might be able to start making glass! Hell, maybe I could even get concrete!

  But no. All of that had to wait until this damn war was over, which meant I had to waste free points on fucking combat.

  I sighed as I watched the gambeson form, and examined it when it was finished.

  Sturdy Leather Gambeson

  Effect 1: When wearing this armor, all combat skills are improved by five percent.

  Effect 2: When wearing this armor, gain seven vitality.

  Effect 3: When wearing this armor, gain the special ability Mighty Bulwark.

  Special Ability: Mighty Bulwark

  Create a temporary waist-high stone wall in front of the user. Dimensions based on Vitality. Duration based on Charisma.

  From Omoali’s Carpentry Skill, you have gained 11 free points!

  A special ability. The first I’d seen from one of my crafts. They weren’t very common, but they also weren’t ridiculously rare either. They were typically considered a sign of aptitude when they showed up after crafting a normal item with good old-fashioned elbow grease. Obviously, they could also show up randomly on talent-crafted items, but one could never predict when they would in either case.

  Lupkep occasionally made a drink that would provide permanent stat increases, and those were also considered special abilities of the beer. He usually ended up selling them to some noble in Denarla for a high price.

  There’d been a small betting pool on when Hadra would make her first item with a special ability as well, but just like me and my pepper paste, her talents had been put toward the mundane task of sewing football fields' worth of bandages ever since the war had started.

  What a waste.

  With the sheer amount of pepper paste and pepper spray Mom and I had been making, I was a little surprised I’d never gotten one. Then again, we were crafting in bulk, not aiming for quality, so maybe it wasn’t so surprising.

  I remembered I’d been pretty excited when the first batch had registered with the system, but its name had been underwhelming.

  New Item Crafted

  Pepper Paste

  The system was kind of lazy.

  “Wow…!” Omoali exclaimed, distracting me from my thoughts as she touched the new fabric and ran her hands over the protective chain. “Thank you, Mera.”

  I beamed. “Happy to help!”

  “Gosh, I might actually need to get working on those materials sooner rather than later,” Oxana commented. “That was fun! I’d better get going, though. Need to let people know about the gaps near the beach.”

  Mom had actually wanted to start charging people for the crafted items, but Dad put a stop to that. Not during wartime. Anything that could help the village should help the village. I had agreed with him, and Mom had acquiesced, temporarily quelling her more mercenary habits for the time being.

  I was thankful that we had. Seeing the uplifted spirits as everyone watched me craft helped.

  Now that I knew I could create more things for people once their initial need was fulfilled, I knew I could have a steady source of income, someday even if I didn’t take up another craft.

  The effectiveness of my items might even serve as advertising after the war! But we had to make it to ‘after the war,’ and we had no idea how well that was going outside our little hamlet. The fact that we hadn’t seen so much as a single soldier since the whole thing had started was telling.

  “Soldiers on the road!” came a sudden call as the door burst open for a third time, nearly smacking Oxana in the face.

  MB