Only princesses, nobles, those of a fragile constitution, and locals go to the diner, Eggtopia. Which is great, because Western off-worders hate disorder in their fantasy. The townspeople who wanted to be safe would go there. So would any potentially threatened parties of strangers who’d been fast traveled. They walked into the door, the sun still under the horizon just to be safe about no morning meetings.

  Beautiful magic fluorescence filled the place. Rich women taking tea, a few farmers tucking into scrumptious meals with hearty grunts gave the yellow painted yolks on the walls with strategic cooked egg silhouettes an extra lift of power. The place smelled of butter frying with just a hint of apple vinegar to keep scrubbed clean. Huge spotless windows let in faux sunbeams, very expensive those kinds of windows, to create shadows of active eaters on the floor. It clinked with silverware on ceramic plates. All wrapped in the essence of a steaming platter of scrambled eggs.

  Above the door and across the main bar the name, Eggtopia. And truly a utopian and peaceful place to eat. They were being given looks for coming in.

  The waiter in a neat white apron, charcoal wrapped in a colorful cloth, strode over swiftly.

  “We don’t offer brawls bands or booze in here.”

  “How about eggs?” Bodi wanted to know. “We’re starved!”

  The waiter inspected Bodi with a frown, then Nettle with a bigger frown, and everyone else got a neutral on the downhill pass.

  Day took the lead.

  “We are just travelers. Presently, we’d love fresh food and a place to relax away from any conflict of which we very much do not want to get involved.”

  The waitress hesitated. “None of you are fleeing kings, knights, bandits, brigands, evil incarnate or annoyed pitchforked villagers? Really anyone following you?” In a hush voice she whispered, you didn’t have the Western along with you?”

  “Nope. We’re NPC questors without any antagonist at present.”

  She squinted. Still suspicious? “Which one of you is the Potential Protagonist? How close are you to off-worlder.”

  They all considered this. Nettle offered Laural swiftly. “She’s the opener of our book and therefore sent on a quest. And all she wants is for her horses to be well cared for.”

  He neglected to mention she probably did have bandits after her.

  “None of you do assassination, necromancy, or,” she said the hateful words lower than off-worlder “chiroquackery?”

  “Never!” exclaimed Bodi, insulted by the accusation.

  Then tension finally oozed off her face. “Well, that’s all right then. But at the first sign of trouble, you’ll have to go outside. Our tables and windows are very expensive. Urban Fantasier don’t often abandon their homes. Replacing them will have to be from your own coin.”

  A smaller waiter walked by with her plate of sunny side eggs gently jiggling. The egg fluff glistening and bringing with it the faint hint of fresh tomato.

  Nettle nodded eagerly. “We’ll be no trouble and leave if asked!”

  They’d all begun drooling a tad.

  “Eggslent! I’ll have a menu for you in a second.”

  After taking a step onto the large booth seats, everyone sat down.

  The waitress returned and handed them the weird, flat-textured, waterproofed paper. “What brings a group like you together?”

  “Fate and fortune?” Day suggested.

  “Paying my debt to society,” Laural looked at the porky and egg menu with a frown.

  “I’m here for the money.” Bodi reassured the waitress.

  Kriti grinned and glanced at Nettle. “I’m also here for the money.”

  “I’m searching for a lost treasure, which should give me enough power to keep my shop open. You wouldn’t believe who’s trying to close it.”

  Nonplussed by this level of greed the waitress bobbled her head oddly. “Yeah, so what can I get you to eat?”

  They ordered and tucked into their meal, ordering, eggs all around, except for Laural’s toast. They’d about thought it might be a good morning before it got ruined by the arrival of a lone stranger.

  The man was tall mixed features but appeared mostly humanoid. Dark black hair and that shade of skin, that is best not described by any food, and a dazzling smile. By any measure, a man that got more than one look from women walking by. Rugged handsomeness that he wore with a kind of confidence that made it seem even more charming. Five nine but wearing a neat darker suit to wear. It suggested he might be more of a traveling magician or maybe a tailor about the town. The clothing not quite cut in the way of a dandy and certainly not rich enough to attract that kind of attention from those who wanted to steal, just more well-heeled than the rest.

  He appeared to be observing and not saying anything else on the matter. First on the road, by the white bench, now at the same breakfast spot. It fit ill to meet anyone over breakfast before sunrise. Great adventures started with a glass of milk and sober minds. Parties had never been much her style and generally debauchery fit her ill and did not align with her work. As such she suffered no fools and even less drunkenness, but now she’d been turned into a cook smiling for a very strange Fae target, and a horsewoman, which admittedly, for an Elf seemed pretty good. Day bothered her as well. That woman must be hiding something.

  The Orcish guard she held a natural enmity for. Guards of all stripes conflicted with her lifestyle. Not law, as she found law never grabbed her or made rude comments about her attire. Guards, who stood in front of doors, did nothing, and got paid money for it. Usually, young men with a surly attitude and just enough intellect to get their job, which again is standing and staring at things for hours on end, just enough brain for that duty.

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  Bodi hadn’t shown any signs yet that she could detect that he would be anything more than that bumbling annoying fool. And she held the caravan women in even less impressed of a state. Unable to get help in the middle of a city surrounded by people. The proper thing should have moved right along without bothering to take anyone. Although the snacks had been good.

  The stranger finally approached them and Kriti noticed a spoon handling sticking out of each shoe. Very weird. She really hoped this was not an off-worlder. He sauntered over to their table and sort of loomed, as much as a man could who was at a foot deficit due to the booth height. He sat there for a second.

  “My nickname is Spoon.” He presented the letter finally too Nettle. “I believed we both have a friend in common. He’s sent me along as hireling for you. I can fetch, fletch, and carry as you need. And before you ask, I’m not an off-worlder. My family is so very mixed species that nearly ever off-worlder casts me out immediately on arrival. Don’t be alarmed, I have no stat sheets or campaigns.”

  He produced a letter from his breast pocket and offered it out to Nettle. He was on the inside of the booth, and stuck out his right arm, which somehow still weren’t long enough. He also dragged his sleeve through Laural’s meal so she pushed his arm away, while Day snatched the letter and then handed it down the table.

  “Yes, well.” Spoon shuffled waiting. “There it is.”

  Since he had eggs running off his sleeve, Nettle tried to ripe it off and smeared the runny yolk even more. Finally, he gave up on the cloth, and Nettle squinted at Spoon, then the latter. After he inspected the flower mark carefully, as if it might have meaning to him, he opened the seal of the letter. He should at least be able to recognize the marks of his own friends, but his face never cleared.

  He read the letter quietly and the group around stared as if it might be a long thing. It is awkward to watch people read standing there in silence waiting for a judgments about the whole matter. Nobody wanted to interrupt but, even Kriti noticed the gaping … forever… Void. Finish reading already.

  Whatever he read, put Nettle on the back foot. He dropped the letter and stared up at the mixed humanoid before him. The was a question in his eyes, but Nettle did not ask it.

  “Whomever sent you, I say it is a waste. A hireling is a kind jester, jeerer, gesture, but as you can see, I already have a guard, a cook, an hostler to handle the horses, and extra supplies besides.” Day frowned that her cart had been counted and not herself. “You’re not exactly needed for someone like myself. I handle my own affairs and have many interactions with shopkeepers. Anyone who knows me knows I prefer to move around all species. Clothing, feeding, mounting you,” at the askance looks he shuffled, “I mean giving you a horse. You are already cost more than the value you can provide.”

  The New Guy shrugged. “I’ll pay my own way. I’m my own man. You won’t have to give me any sort of stipend. With my added funds, there is not a reason to worry. And if I won’t act as a hireling. Then, then I can be additional assistance on the road as a scout or another guard. Or just helpful.”

  Bodi gave New Guy such a pitying expression that the entire rest of the group considered the orc’s negative opinion on the matter as a stated fact. Clearly, the orc didn’t think this would add much value to their overall safety plan either.

  “What do you think, Laural?”

  This surprised her. Why ask her of all people?

  “You said you got horse sense about things.” Nettle pressed. “What do you think about this man? Use your superior instincts to our advantage if you would.”

  She squinted too. There was a great deal of time, not so long as the letter but longer than everyone else was entirely comfortable with after the entire matter. “He’s hiding something. But I don’t think it will harm you.”

  Spoon kept his face as neutral as possible.

  Nettle scowled. “The letter told me that, but thanks for letting everyone else possible know. I see subtle isn’t in your repertoire.”

  “Why bother?” she asked. “Did you want my assessment or did you want me to be charismatic and diplomatic? Cause you know I’m a horse girl, right? Not peoply.”

  “Your assessment,” guttered the un-nutter Nettle, with an unhappy expression unuttered. No udder jokes.

  “Please, I understand how you might question me. But you know from that letter I’m here for you not because of any other ulterior motives. It would be a great boon if you would allow me to travel alongside you as you need. Please.” He bowed his head and it was an elegant practiced gesture.

  Laural tried to remember if she’d seen the moment, but with his human features it made that harder to remember. Something about him though, she should recognize it for what it always was. But her gut the recognition had gone.

  “I don’t know how I fell over this matter. I shall ask the djinn. She thinks well. What say you, Cook? Is he one of us or an enemy?”

  She gave a flat expression. “First your hostler now me. Should I be insulted or complimented?”

  “Neither, you wouldn’t have given your counsel if I asked you first.”

  She gave a slight incline of her head, admitting this to be true enough to a point.

  “You haven’t asked me,” complained Bodi.

  “Nor me,” remarked Day, “but I suppose using the judgment of one you know the lest would be a flawed approach.

  “Except that I have traveled much on and know a great deal about people from this. I can tell trouble at a glance. As can most other travelers in my position. Even though you did not ask, I say he’s unacceptable.”

  “Well, I don’t. Uh. Wait, I do. Whatever.” Bodi stomped his foot with frustration. “The more people we add without fighting skills, the more likely to attract attention and the more dangerous it become to the whole party. Just the off-worlder attraction alone is a concern. A Fae with three hirelings is much different from what we’ve become and it’s been like two days guys. From a security perspective, it’s not in our best interest.”

  “So,” Nettle asked the djinn, “What say you to this proposition?”

  “You will abide by my decision of all people?” Her eyebrow arched in a delicate but decided manner.

  “I will.” Nettle agreed. “I’m going with the other three’s annoyed expressions on it.”

  “Hand me the letter, and I’ll tell you all tomorrow.”

  Nettle, na?ve trusting Nettle, gave it to her and she instead of reading it like they’d all expected tucked the thing into her front shirt pocket. She got up walking away as if this closed the matter while Spoon started after her.

  “Sir, I must say I don’t understand why you would give a Cook this decision. This is your party isn’t it? Why would you have anyone’s ideas cloud yours? I am here to support you. Not be ignored. I very much don’t understand why she of all people would be asked about this?”

  Nettle shrugged his shoulders. Because she is an assassin wasn’t something he intended to admit here nor that he’d hired one to be their chef for the days ahead. He knew of her though and his magic could cut through multiple layers. Many moons ago he’d seen her doing her deadly work, assisting a member of Fae upper echelon, one that he’d not had any connection beyond what all Fae brethren had together. Still, he had a locked in memory and a lone strike of what he’d seen her doing. Plus, her shoes appraised as Assassin’s boots which then reminded him about his repressed childhood memory when he’d also seen only one other person wearing Assassin’s boots, her. A younger her.

  It had been no great thing to never to tell anyone. Nobody had known to ask. With his type of family, this knowledge could be the difference between his family line ending and succeeding later in time. He needed every weapon available to him.

  Spoon didn’t quite believe what had happened. “Are you really serious about this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well then,” Spoon grunted, but then walked away stiffly.

  Nettle alone knew he’d entrusted his life to an assassin with likely a very long career. The one most likely to cut his throat, to poison him, to want him died, but he had really been over Bodi crashing the cart. And the reason he remembered her since childhood, was because her shoes fit her just perfectly.