The day after the wolf quest began just the same as their first mission, with a bit of shopping. This trip, though was quite a bit less informal. The five of them embarked on a pre-determined path, on their way to a specific destination. Directions provided earlier by Therdin guided their feet, with Hector and Ylva abreast in the front to interpret them. Brian and Tiffany walked next to each other behind them. Calvin, who had been less than excited about this whole thing, brought up the rear.

Trostenwald looked about the same as it always did around midday. People milled about the dusty streets with little mind to anything around them. Music poured from a nearby tavern. A particularly loud merchant hawked his goods somewhere in the distance. There was a liveliness in its sleepy attitude. The citizens here were an easy going lot, but no one would ever call them lazy. They just lived at a slower pace than those city folk. The New Yorker in Brian admired that.

They traversed identical roads, passed by nondescript buildings and through similar squares. Brian was somewhat familiar with the main street that led from the Adventurer's Guild, but the rest of Trostenwald escaped him. A combination of unfamiliar architecture and a lack of signage caused the confusion. To the people brought up in this world, it was probably nothing special. To an outsider, it was an impossible maze.

"This place is so big," Tiffany remarked as the only person perhaps more lost than Brian.

"It's more medium sized by Exandrian standards," Brian said.

"Did the Great and Powerful Matt Mercer tell you that?" Tiffany snarked.

"Yes, actually," said Brian with a grin. Tiffany tolled her eyes.

"Why does it feel so huge, then?" Tiffany continued. Calvin snickered from behind them.

"It's probably because you're used to driving everywhere," explained Brian. "You don't really get a sense of how long a mile is in a car. I didn't have a car for the longest time back home. Let me tell you, the difference between walking and driving in Manhattan is astounding."

"You're from New York? " Calvin piped up.

"Yeah," Brian twisted his body to face him.

"Where abouts?"

"Greenwich,"

"I'm from Queens, man!" Exclaimed Calvin.

"Seriously?" Brian breathed.

They did a handshake-to-fistbump thing that Brian was entirely too White for.

"Small world, ain't it?" Marveled Calvin.

"I know, right? What are the chances?" Brian returned his enthusiasm.

"You'll have to hit me up when we get through all this."

"Definitely."

They walked on for what felt like about another half hour, though probably not quite that long. It was sufficient, however, for Brian to become hopelessly lost. For what was probably the hundredth time that trip, he thanked Bahanut that someone else led the party. Maybe he would look for a map while they were out. That would certainly help with his sense of direction problem.

Eventually they came to their destination, a little shop snuggled between two larger buildings, made mostly of pale stone and with a wide open entrance. Walking inside, an inexplicable smell of wet spicy mold assaulted Brian's nose. Shelves on every wall were stacked with colorful vials, bottles, and a few jugs. Various ingredients took up the spots where glassware did not, things like dried leaves, grasses, a chicken's foot, a newt's tail, some sparkly red dust, and even a preserved eyeball. The only gap in the storage was a narrow entryway in the far right corner.

Behind a long counter by the left wall stood a cute little elf girl, tan complexion, a pointed chin, and a big smile. She looked young, even by elven standards. There was a bounce in her brown ringlets as she turned to see the new entrants to her shop.

"Ah, hello!" She called, clapping her hands together below her chin. "Welcome to Ashla's Assorted Alchemical! I'm Leithlee."

"Not Ashla?" Calvin joked as he stepped further into the store.

"No, Ashla is my mother. She's out right now so I'm watching the store."

The party stepped up to the counter. Leithlee swept her gaze over them. That huge smile never faltered even a millimeter.

"What can I do for you all today?" She asked.

"We're with the Adventurer's Guild," Hector began.

"Yes, I can tell," Leithlee said.

"What? How?" Ylva asked. A valid question, since none of them wore armor and only she and Brian were armed.

"Well, you're not rowdy enough to be just a bunch of friends, not uncomfortable enough to be work associates, not mean enough to be mercenaries, and you're not wearing anything official. So, you must be adventurers," explained Leithlee. "You pick up on this sort of thing, dealing with the public in a place like this."

"I guess that makes sense," Ylva shrugged.

"It actually makes this easier," agreed Hector. "We don't have to explain why we're looking for potions of healing."

"Excellent." Leithlee ducked behind the counter, talking as she went. "As you can imagine, the Guild activity keeps me kind of tapped when it comes to healing, but I should have a few left." She paused for a few seconds. "Ah, here we go!"

The elf popped back up with a small wooden crate in her hands. She set it down. The three smaller vials and one larger bottle rattled against one another.

"The small ones are standard potions of healing, and the bigger one is a greater," she said.

"Great. And how much for each?" Inquired Hector.

"The standard will run you fifty gold a piece, while the greater is two-hundred fifty."

"I think the greater is a bit too rich for our blood. I certainly don't have enough." Hector looked to his companions, all of whom gave him negative responses.

"I don't even have enough, and I think I have the most," Tiffany said.

"Well, we can still take the standard ones. Who needs a potion?" Hector moved on.

"I still have mine," Brian said, raising his hand slightly.

"And I have mine," echoed Tiffany.

"I never had one," Calvin offered.

"Really, Cal," admonished Ylva. "That seems like a really obvious thing for a frontline fighter to have."

"Hey, I had bigger problems when we were all picking our gear," Calvin nearly snapped. Ylva put up her hands defensively.

"This works out perfectly, actually," Hector said. "If you, Ylva, and I each buy a potion, then we all have one."

"Sounds good to me," Calvin said. Ylva nodded.

"So, that's all three of the standard potions of healing, then?" Leithlee chimed in.

"Yes, we'll take them," confirmed Hector.

The three who were making purchases each handed over fifty gold pieces. In exchange, Leithlee provided them with tall vials filled almost all the way up to the cork with thick red liquid.

"Excellent. Is there anything else?" Leithlee gave them all expectant looks.

"Maybe," Hector said. "I'm a bit of a spellcasting sort, myself. I was wondering if you had anything in the way of arcane components?"

"Hmm..." Leithlee trailed off, momentarily deep in thought. "Not specifically, but we do have a bunch of random ingredients laying around. Maybe you'll find what you're looking for?"

"That's what I was hoping," Hector said with a nod.

"Alright then. Come on, let me show you around!"

Leithlee gave him a little tour of the shop. He found a few dried up fireflies, some pork rind, charcoal and incense, and a few other assorted things he thought might come in handy later on. The only things he didn't find were any little tarts. He did, however, locate the ingredients to make some himself out of raisins, flower, and butter. The entire affair cost him twenty-one gold.

When all was said and done, the party bade their goodbyes to Leithlee and exited the establishment.

The sounds of music flooded over them again as they returned to the guild hall. It was only natural to pass the same tavern twice if they cut an identical path back whence they came. The establishment itself sounded much busier than before, though the difference was only a few minutes. Conversation spilled out around the tunes, and laughter erupted from somewhere deep within. Brian took a long look inside as they passed.

"You know," he said, "I've never actually been to a proper tavern before."

"You've never been to a bar?" Asked Calvin.

"No, I've been to a bar. A tavern is more like a pub. I've never been to one," clarified Brian.

Ylva stopped. The others gathered around her. "We should go in, then. Celebrate our recent victories."

"That's an excellent idea," agreed Hector.

"I can't go to a bar," Tiffany protested. "I'm still underage."

"What, really?" Calvin said. "How old are you, then?"

Tiffany hesitated before answering. "Twenty."

"I could've sworn you were older," remarked Calvin. Brian wanted to slug him for his complete lack of tact.

"No one's gonna force you to drink, Tiff," Ylva reassured her. "But, I don't think legal age is really a thing here. I mean, who's gonna stop you, the cops?"

"There are cops here," Tiffany countered.

"Something tells me the Crownsguard has bigger problems," said Brian.

"I guess," Tiffany shrugged.

"I still think it sounds like fun. We've done well in our last two missions. We deserve to have a little fun," Hector said.

"That's what I'm saying!" Echoed Ylva.

"Come on, then, lets go in." Hector pushed back through his team and led them to the tavern.

They spilled single-file through the open door. A bar dotted by patrons dominated the far wall. A portly human man poured drinks and spoke with his customers. There was a space stretching to it from the door wide enough for three people to stand abreast. Tables occupied the rest of the space, while booths lined the walls. They were close enough to facilitate easy conversation between tables. A thin stage ran along the far left corner. On it stood an elf girl with a flute, a halfling who pounded on a drum, and a man with what looked like a guitar, but Brian knew it was actually called a yarting. It sounded just like a guitar to him.

The place was mildly busy at this hour just past midday. Three tables and four booths were occupied. Two of the latter played host to games of dice, which was where Brian suspected the laughter came from. These people were a colorful lot, made from all sizes, shapes, and races. Brian even caught sight of his first dragonborn, a copper scaled fellow watching one of the dice games.

As the party entered, a human waitress crossed from one side to the other, a tray gripped overhand. She stopped to address the party.

"Welcome to Bozo's Brews and Beds. Just have a seat wherever you like and I'll be right with you."

"Thank you, miss," Hector said with a nod.

He led the party to a booth against the left wall. Brian took the far side of the table, all the way over to the wall, his preferred seat. It allowed him to snuggle up into the corner, which he promptly did. Tiffany sat down daintily beside him, while Ylva took the aisle. Calvin, and then Hector, sat across from them.

"This place ain't so bad," Calvin said, looking around.

"Love the music," commented Ylva, her eyes closed for a moment.

"It's a lot emptier than I expected," said Brian. "With all the noise, I thought there'd be more people."

"They certainly are a boisterous lot," agreed Hector with a glance to the dice games.

"What do you think, Tiff? Cozy?" Ylva asked.

"It's... nice?" Tiffany said with a squint.

"You don't like it," determined Ylva.

"No, it's fine. I'm just used to... quieter places." Tiffany chose her words with caution.

"How white are the collars in these places?" Calvin managed to sound both curious and disapproving. Tiffany didn't answer him.

For the second time in just about an hour, Brian wanted to call Calvin out for being so graceless. The waitress returned after a few seconds, saving them from an awkward silence in the process.

"So, what can I get for all of you," she asked with a painfully rehearsed smile.

"Well, it was my idea to come here, so why don't I start us off with a round?" suggested Ylva. There were no complaints. She addrssed the waitress. "We'll have five mugs of your best ale."

"Our best ale? That'll run you three gold," warned the waitress.

"A fair price." Ylva extracted a few coins from her pocket. "And one for you."

"Thank you very much, ma'am. Be back in a moment." The waitress dropped the coins in the pocket on her apron and flitted away.

Say one thing about this establishment, the service was quick. Of course, that was probably because there were very few people around. The party didn't even have time to strike up another decent rapport before the waitress returned, somehow holding five drinks in her two hands. They came in mugs the size of a large coffee mug, the kind that held about twelve ounces. The vessels were shod from wood with long blocky handles. Kind of small, but Ylva did specify mug. A decent note for later.

"Here you are." The waitress placed a drink before each party member. "Anything else? We just got a fresh shipment of venison from the market. Our chef makes a mean deer steak."

There were looks around the table of uncertainty. Calvin and Brian both shrugged.

"Maybe later," Ylva said. "I'll admit, we didn't think that far ahead."

"Alright. Well, if you want anything, just grab me and I'll go put it in for you."

"Thanks."

"Of course, dear. Enjoy your drinks." With that, the waitress departed.

Ylva wasted no time taking a big sip of her beverage. Both Calvin and Hector were right behind. It was a bit disconcerting to watch Calvin, who was clearly still a teenager, ingest the alcohol without even flinching. Indeed, he drank like it was no big deal.

Wrapped up in the moment, Brian took a sip from his mug. In doing so, he realized he'd never actually had ale before. Beer, yes, but not proper ale. The flavor was dark and rich, vaguely sweet as it if had hints of honey. Not too bitter, but with a pronounced bite, it went down easy. He assumed the lower shelf drinks would be much more difficult to manage. In a way, then, it was good to start with this.

With everyone having had a good sampling, it was obvious that one of them had not. Tiffany just sat almost ramrod still, staring at her mug while loose finger played with the long handle. Staring deep in thought into a drink was a sight Brian had observed at many a bar before, but usually it belonged to stressed out middle-class folks with nothing better to do. Tiffany had been less than certain to enter the establishment at all, so seeing her so conflicted struck Brian funny.

"Everything alright, Tiffany?" He asked. The blonde started at the sound of her own name. She flashed him an accusatory look, then went back to starring.

"I, uh... I've never actually had alcohol before," she said.

"First time for everything, right?" Ylva gave her junior a hearty pat on the back, which Tiffany didn't seem to appreciate. "Just start with a small sip, see what you think."

Tiffany hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"We won't force you," Ylva said, "but I'd like if you'd join us. We're supposed to be having fun. So, come on, loosten up!" To punctuate her statement, Ylva took a swill.

"No one's stopping me, if that's what you're worried about." Calvin also took a drink before adding his two cents.

Tiffany gripped her mug in both hands. She starred at it, nails drumming against the fine wood. She took a deep breath, and brought it to her lips. The following sip resulted in wide eyes as she quickly set it down. She began to splutter and choke.

"Oh God, that's awful," she said between coughs. Ylva and Calvin laughed at her. She regained her breath before continuing. "It tastes like moldy bread! People actually drink this for fun?"

"It's a bit of an acquired taste," Ylva said through a big grin.

"I don't think I want to acquire it." Tiffany looked at the ale as if it physically attacked her.

"Maybe wine would be more your speed. We'll get some for our next round," Ylva said with a pat on Tiffany's shoulder.

"Come on, don't turn her into a basic white girl yet," Calvin said. "She's already halfway there," Calvin said.

"Nothing wrong with a little wine." Hector took a sip. "It used to be the drink of kings."

"I thought that was chocolate," Brian said.

"You're thinking of gods, not kings," corrected Ylva. Brian cocked his head to one side in acknowledgment.

"Depending on who you talk to, those are the same thing," said Hector.

What followed was a night of many drinks and much laughter.

…

After the round of wine, which Brian covered, everyone became much more comfortable. As an admitted lightweight, Brian was already feeling the starts of a buzz in the back of his head. This stuff was much stronger than what he normally found back on Earth. Even Tiffany, finding the wine palatable, was talking more.

Currently, Ylva had her right elbow on the table, sleeve pulled up to reveal a grizzly looking pink scar just below the shoulder.

"This is probably the worst one. Cut right to the bone," she said.

"Why would you ever fight with real swords?" Tiffany admonished.

"I was young and stupid, and HEMA wasn't really a thing when I was in high school. Interest in it didn't really peak until about ten years ago," Ylva said.

"Ok, but why not use wood or something?" Tiffany continued to be the voice of reason for past Ylva.

"Where's the fun in that?" Ylva countered. "To us, we weren't just practicing, we were real warriors fighting real duels. You don't fight duels with wooden swords."

"Still..." Tiffany was unsatisfied.

"I think it's kinda cool," Brian said. "You were a fighter even before you became a fighter."

"What about you then?" Ylva asked him. "Got an scars, Bri?"

"Nope," he shook his head. "I'd never even been in a fight before we killed all those rats."

"You serious?" Wondered Calvin aloud.

"Completely. I'd never been in a fight. I've never cut myself, I've never broken a bone."

"But, I mean, look at you," Tiffany said. "You're thinner than I am. A strong breeze should hurt you."

"Lots of tall buildings where I'm from. They block the wind," Brian said. "What about you? Ever broken a bone?"

"Twice actually," Tiffany nodded. "I broke my left arm in a cheerleading accident, and my foot during a soccer game."

"How'd the accident happen?" Hector asked.

"The way they all do for fliers. My bases didn't catch me, and it folded underneath me."

That drew collective winces from around the table. Calvin shivered and made a disgusted face.

…

"So then Manuel and I started throwing rocks at it." Hector leaned over the table telling his story, speech a little slurred. They'd all hit the cups a bit, at this point. Brian was the only one showing a bit of discretion.

"Did you hit it?" Calvin asked.

"Of course not, it's a cobra! It was like throwing rocks at a moving pencil," Hector said.

"What happened next?" Ylva hung off every word, more invested than anyone else at the table.

"It started slithering toward us, head up like it wanted to bite. Esteban took off running, then the rest of us did, too. It chased us, hissing the whole time."

"No, stop!" Tiffany covered her face with one hand, peeking through her fingers. "I hate snakes."

"Meh," deflected Calvin. "They ain't gonna hurt ya if you don't bother them."

"This one sounded like it wanted to hurt someone," Tiffany countered.

Ylva pinched at Tiffany's shoulder with her hand, snapping as if it were a snake. The blonde yelped and recoiled from the attack.

"I'm serious, stop!" She begged.

"Alright, alright," Ylva said, chuckling. "I'm sorry."

"I'm still gonna finish my story," Hector said, drawing a groan from Tiffany.

…

At one point, the band stopped playing. Brian noticed this coincided with the sun going down completely. They probably needed a bit of rest after entertaining for so long. Their presence was missed, but the tavern would not be without music for long. Perhaps it was the now plentiful booze in his system, but Calvin got up and grabbed the abandoned yarting. On his way back he gave it a few experimental strums, just to confirm it was pretty much exactly like a guitar. Satisfied, he sat on the corner of his side of the booth.

Deft fingers plucked out a rhythm, something both pretty and simple. Brian would've been impressed enough with just that, but his jaw hit the floor when Calvin began to sing.

There's a steel train coming soon

I would take it if I could

And I would not lie to you, because

Sunday morning soon will come

When things will be much easier to say

Upon the microphone like a Boss DJ

But I won't walk up upon the sea like it was dry land

A Boss DJ ain't nothing but a man

No trouble, no fuss, I know why

He had a rich voice, a pleasant middle tone, not too high nor low. he inebriation he doubtless felt gave no impact on the performance. Either that, or Brian couldn't tell. The elation he felt during the performance was surpassed only by the disappointment when Calvin only played one song.

…

Brian had no idea what time it was when they finally decided to call it a night. He reckoned none of them did. Hector covered their last round, Calvin left a tip for the waitress, and they headed out. The old man led them, leaning heavily on his stick. Tiffany, bless her heart, passed out completely several minutes prior. Calvin scooped her up in a bridal carry to bring her home. She looked even tinier than usual in his big hands.

Ylva insisted on being the last one out. Brian walked a few steps ahead of her. He'd gone rather light on the ale during their time at the tavern. Ylva, not so much. Her steps behind him sounded quite obviously uneven and clumsy. He glanced over his shoulder to see her taking big, unsteady steps down the little corridor of tables to the entrance. She almost fell onto one of them, but caught herself just in time. The dwarf who's drink she almost spilled gave her a cursory glance before returning to his group. Brian just shook his head.

He made it out of the building and turned left to follow his companions who were steadily getting further away. A few feet revealed that Ylva was not with him. Brian turned to find her—as he expected—slowly making her way down the street on wobbly knees.

"Ylva," he said, moving back to her. "Let me help you, you're drunk."

"So are you," she slurred. "Just look at how you're swaying."

"I'm not swaying, you are," Brian countered.

"...Oh." Ylva made an attempt to arrest her unconscious movement, which resulted in a stumble. Again, she barely caught herself from toppling over.

Brian sighed. "Come on, let's go."

He turned around. Without even thinking, Brian took her wrist and laid her arm across his shoulders. She leaned into him, letting him support most of her weight. Brian doubted she was actually heavy, but he wasn't a very strong guy. It took him a second to adjust to her weight before setting off.

Ylva did her best to keep pace with him, but he ended up partially dragging her through the streets. She had to press up close to him in order to remain upright. She was somehow both soft and solid at the same time, like a rock covered in delicate satin. Brian could both feel her gentle breaths against his back, and also hear them from where her chin rested on his shoulder. It would've been nice had she not reeked of alcohol.

They walked on in silence for a moment. Ylva had her eyes closed, a pleased smile on her face. That luxurious dark hair partially covered her face so her green eyes only peeked through when it swished just right in time with their motion. They seemed to glow in the fire lit torchlight of the Trostenwald evening.

"Did you have fun tonight?" She asked eventually.

"I did," Brian nodded. "I haven't gone out drinking for a while, so it was nice."

"That's good." Ylva stretched her shoulders, which temporarily saw her squish even closer to him. "That's good."

"I would ask you the same thing, but I think that's obvious," Brian joked.

Ylva chuckled. "I might've gone a little overboard."

"That's alright. I think we deserve to cut loose every now an then," Brian said.

They were quiet again for a bit. Ylva settled in some more, now almost completely letting Brian carry her. After a while she spoke again.

"You know, you remind me a lot of my fiance," she remarked, sounding half asleep.

"Yeah?" He wasn't sure how else to respond.

"Yeah. You don't look anything alike, of course. He's a little shorter than me with a bushy black beard, but you're both kind, and honest, and patient, and sweet, and always trying to help people. You're even both Clerics of Bahamut, though he's Life Domain," Ylva said.

"Thanks, I guess," Brian said.

"I'm just saying. I know you're not always the most confident guy, but you should be. I mean, you're totally my type. That has to count for something, right?"

Brian didn't respond, glad for the night to conceal the color in his cheeks. His silence was incentive for Ylva to keep going.

"And, I think you're handsome. If I'd met you first, who knows what would've happened?" She said.

Brian's heart skipped a beat, and he so wished it hadn't.