One needs a morning ritual. Habit brings stability and ease. It may take time to form. But it’s worth it.

Sammy’s morning ritual has been the same for years. He wakes up at the crack of dawn. He stretches. Paying extra attention to his left shoulder. Its past dislocations are catching up to him. Extend the arm high up. Slow rotations one way. Then the other way around. Neck, legs, and sides. Some mornings more. Depends on what he’s done the previous day.

After stretches, he inspects his gear. Straps and stitching, rivets and rust. He cleans it too. It needs to be ready. Then he uses a Skill.

“[Oiled Steel].”

It’s a good Skill. Sammy’s second favorite. Vastly cuts down the effort of maintaining his armor. Means he won’t need a [Squire] any time soon. Unless he lucks himself into armor of a rarer metal. Fat chance, that.

He sees no problems. Except the helmet’s stinky padding. That really needs replacing. Sammy puts the helmet on the dresser by the door. The rest of the heavy gear can stay in his room. Now, it’s time for him to start dressing. Padded cuisses for his thighs. Easier to do it now than later. Gambeson, gorget. Mail on top of that. Belt with his sidearm—a single-bladed shortsword sheathed. Then the gloves.

People always ask him why he wears so much gear. Doesn’t his Skill let him get away with less, they wonder. It’s not [Summon Armor]. It’s [Armored and Ready]. He needs to be armored and ready. Only then can he call his gear. This is the least he can get away with. He’s tried.

Sammy then focuses on another skill. His favorite. It’s [Sense Distress]. It pings him faintly. Not with any urgency. He can feel two separate sources. Downstairs and from the room to his right. The latter’s probably Claine. He’ll check on her first. Although it’s almost certainly just another hangover. Still. Bears investigating.

It doesn’t take more than a moment for Sammy to be knocking on Claine’s door. Three thumps, and he asks, “Claine. You okay?”

He hears Claine’s muffled reply, “…Aye. Go away, Sammy.”

Sammy doesn’t go away. “Are you decent?” he asks.

“What? No—I mean, aye, but ye don’t gotta—” Claine attempts to deter him from coming in. Unsuccessfully. Sammy unlocks the door with his master key and walks in.

The [Wizard] isn’t happy. “Damn yer Skill. Ye’re only botherin’ me, go away!”

“No. What’s causing you distress?”

“Nothing ye can help me with!”

This is beginning to sound familiar to Sammy. They had a similar conversation some years ago. Back then, they were still new to adventuring. Their third or fourth quest. Inspecting an abandoned mine. Then the floor collapsed. Dropped them right into an underground river. Er-Tez-Mo, rest his soul, overpreparing like always had saved them back then. Potions of [Breathing], [Resist Fire], [Darksight], and half a dozen other things. The whole half-party of four survived that quest.

But a lot of their supplies didn’t. The journey back was half a week. Claine started pinging his [Sense Distress] back then too. On the second day, he barged into her tent despite her objections. And, well. It was a woman thing. After that quest, they started packing their essentials in waterproof bundles.

This situation has the same ring to it. But it can’t be that. It’s too early in the month for it. Sammy knows, because he keeps track. Claine was mad at him for a week once when he brought that up. He sort of gets why. If someone kept track of, say, his bowel movements. That would be weird. Maybe he’d get angry, even. So, he doesn’t bring it up.

Instead, he says, “You don’t know that. Tell me.”

“That won’t—argh, fine. But don’t go spreadin’ it around.”

Claine looks dead serious. Sammy nods. She eases up a little and explains, “I done asked Sid out last night. She said yes.”

Ah. Matters of amour. But maybe he can still help. “Go on,” Sammy says.

“Then she asked me where I’m gonna take her! Where am I gonna take her?! What do people do on dates!?” Claine bursts into explanation. Not letting Sammy have a word, she continues. “I panicked! I told her it’s a secret! She went ‘ooh, am I looking forward to finding out’! What in the hells am I gonna do? I only got three days to come up with somethin’!”

Hm. She was right. He can’t help her.

“Hm. You were right. I can’t help you,” Sammy voices his thoughts.

Claine paces around the room. “I told ye! Get ye gone! I need space to think!”

Sammy shrugs. “I can look into it,” he says. It’s more of a declaration than a suggestion. Claine’s head snaps around to look at him. She snarls, “Don’t!” She looks about ready to start casting. Sammy decides this is as good a time as any to leave.

“Hrm. Bye,” he says, exiting through the door. He hears Claine’s confused goodbye just after closing it behind him.

Downstairs. He spots Zavelle checking out the quest board. She looks frustrated. She must still have difficulty reading. Sammy decides to get another part of the routine out of the way.

“Zavelle. Join our party.”

The green-skinned demon does not offer Sammy a glance. She quietly replies, “…No.”

Sammy grunts. It was worth a try. He should check the quest board too. But the distress he senses comes first. The source is in the training grounds. There’s a sign on the door. Busy, don’t come in. Vesta’s handwriting. Maybe he can help. Sammy unlocks the door with his master key and walks inside. Locking the door behind him, of course.

The first thing he sees is the boulder. The one that the guys brought in yesterday. He has no idea why. Sammy didn’t ask. He had continued practicing his sword forms.

There’s two people on the boulder. Vesta, sitting down. And someone else hiding behind her. It’s probably the horn girl. She had been practically clinging to Vesta yesterday. From what little he had seen her.

Sammy walks closer. Vesta’s in her work clothes. Black pants, blue vest, a white shirt underneath. The attire’s unusual. Dwarven style of clothes. Loose-fitting robes are more common. Or dresses. Also, Vesta seems unhappy.

Now by the boulder, he gets to the point. “Hello. What’s causing you distress?” he asks. It’s always helpful to get to the point. Clears things up.

“Right now, it’s you. I thought I had left a note on the door. Why are you here, Sammy? Do I need to take that key away from you?” The cowering figure peeks out from behind Vesta. Yep. It’s horn girl.

“Oh. Sorry. [Sense Distress] pinged. Thought I’d help.” This is quite unfortunate. Two unhelpable people in a day? Sammy hopes not.

Vesta raises an eyebrow. “It did? Oh, of course, how careless of me. One moment.” She closes her eyes. The distress Sammy was sensing vanishes. “There, how’s that?”

“Huh. You stopped being distressed.” That’s rather strange. It usually takes a lot longer for people.

Vesta snorts. “Hardly. It’s just a little trick to avoid empathic Skills and the like. Before you ask—no, I won’t teach you how to do it. It’s a waste of time until you’re at least level thirty; it won’t be effective before that. That’s level thirty highest, not cumulative.”

“I’ll hold you on to that,” Sammy says. Filing himself a mental note.

“Keep that attitude up and you’ll make it there in a reasonable timeframe. Now could you—”

“Sammy!” The horn girl hops out from behind Vesta’s back and cuts her off. Vesta’s hand finds a place on her face. “Thank you for helping me,” the little girl says and performs a tidy bow. And she is little. Smaller than before.

“She’s smaller than before,” Sammy observes aloud.

Vesta’s face buries itself deeper in her palm. “Yes, Sammy, she’s smaller than before,” she confirms it. She drags her hand down along her face. Then gives Sammy a serious look. “Please try not to announce it to the entire town. I’m not sure what to do about this yet. Which is why no one was supposed to come in.”

Sammy nods. He can keep a secret. But this does make him curious. “Why is she smaller? She looks five years younger than yesterday.” Sammy’s lack of expression does not betray his curiosity. His verbosity does.

Vesta seems to be weighing her options. But she can’t finish. The little girl speaks before that. “I’m a dream—dreamsent! Look!” Sammy blinks, and she changes. She’s the same size as yesterday now. A young woman in her mid-teens. No poof, no flash, no gradual shifting.

She grins. “Heh, heh. How’s that for a trick?” Her tone is lower, more mature now. She does a little twirl. Her robe’s wide sleeves hit Vesta in the arm. The elf doesn’t mind. But she does look tired. Then Sammy blinks again—the horn girl’s little once more.

“Isn’t it cool? But I can only get bigger or smaller! I can’t be like Aunty Vesta.” She smiles in an innocent way. Like yesterday had been a bad dream.

“Hm. Very cool,” Sammy compliments the girl. He finds that children like compliments. The [Paladin] turns to Vesta and asks, “What’s a dreamsent?”

Vesta sighs. “Drava’s confusing the different names. She’s a dreambeing, or a heavensent, or an evanescent one, or—it doesn’t matter. You can think of it as a very rare species. She might attract some attention from…unsavory characters due to it.” The little girl—Drava, that was it—is trying to climb on Vesta’s back. The elf does her best to ignore the small distraction.

“Sammy. This is important.” Vesta’s eyes have a look to them. She will not give a second warning. Sammy straightens his back a little and listens. “Don’t tell anyone what she is. Don’t ask anyone about her species. Don’t try to find tomes or such that have information about it. It’s better for it to stay a secret until she can take care of herself. Fortunately, the…” Vesta gives Drava a concerned look. She continues, “…The you know thought she’s an exotic shifter of some kind. But if word spreads of her rescuer going around asking about heavensent, someone will put two and two together. Don’t do it.”

Sammy looks like he’s about to say something. Vesta cuts him off with a dismissive handwave. “I get it, you want to know. But I simply don’t have the time to answer your questions. I—Drava, darling, please don’t pull on my hair.” The girl giggles. Vesta rolls her eyes. She continues, “Tell you what. I can copy you some restricted documents on the topic when I’m less busy. You deserve that much.”

That sounds fine. He’s got a feeling the knowledge might help his A-class. “Appreciated,” Sammy says. With a curt nod, he turns to leave. Then he stops and turns back around. “Tell me if I can help,” he adds.

“Yeah, yeah. Bye, Sammy,” Vesta replies.

”Byyyye,” Drava yells her farewells too.

As he leaves, Sammy overhears Vesta. “Now, Drava, what did I tell you about transforming in public and talking about what you are?”

“But Sammy’s nice! And Daddy taught me…to…to…” Drava’s reply trails off. Her voice faltering. Sammy’s Skill begins to alarm him again.

“Drava. Drava! It’s okay, listen to me, nothing’s wrong!” Vesta speaks with urgency. Sammy looks back around. The horn girl—larger again—is curled up on the boulder. Vesta’s trying to help. She gives a quick look to Sammy. And gestures him to go.

“You’re a strong girl. Breathe slowly, squeeze my hand if you need to. I’m here, don’t worry, you’re fine…”

Vesta’s got this. Sammy leaves the courtyard. Leaving the elf and the quietly sobbing girl behind him.

Three people he can’t help today. Nothing to it. Doesn’t mean Sammy should stop trying his best. Now, it’s time for him to check the quest board. Zavelle’s no longer reading it. Maybe she found something. Another good reason to wake up early. Get to check the quests before others.

What have we here. Info on the free quests. Sammy’s read those notes already. Ezekiel’s wanted herbs for as long as Sammy’s been here. And much longer than that, it seems. The parchment’s faded and slightly worn.

Take down a slave auction. That could…no. A full party or two half-parties required. It’s not a job for just him and Claine. His [Paladin] class, level 19, is just barely not enough too. Recommended: combat class of level 20 or higher. Following recommendations is the trick to a long adventuring life. That’s what Er-Tez-Mo had told Sammy. Didn’t work out that well for him. But that’s no reason to disregard good advice.

Help required investigating recent Waygate failures. That might be something. Sammy reads on. Waygates have been failing at an increasing rate, dispersing travelers to effectively random destinations between gates. I need someone to go to one, ask the [Arcanists] running it some questions, and operate a magical tool provided by the Guild on-site. Sounds doable. He’ll have to ask Claine about that. Sammy’s got no magical aptitude. And he’s not keen on traveling the wilderness alone.

Harvest season guard duty. Sammy’s read this one. [Farmers] can keep pests at bay. But some rare plants can attract powerful monsters as they mature. Worst kind of guard duty. In Sammy’s opinion. Sitting in one place. Alert for days on end. Some people like it though.

Masseuse wanted—Sammy reads no further. It’s by that strange old lady. Pestered Vesta until she posted the quest. Fear the elderly.

Then there’s two new notes. They both read Restricted. Guild magic. Sammy’s curious but isn’t going to inquire. The information is sensitive or the question is too dangerous for him. Either way, Vesta knows what she’s doing.

Everything else he’s read already. Monster lairs and uncovered tombs. Half-party recommended for them all. Sammy and Claine need to find two more people. They can’t get anything done at this rate. He’ll have to ask An-Kel-Ot again too. She’s more likely to say yes than Zavelle. At least in Sammy’s opinion.

Sammy looks around. Familiar faces. But not the reptilian An-Kel-Ot. As expected. She usually gets up late. He’ll ask her later. The others have parties already. Except Patraz. He’s there trying to chat up Sid. No amount of wit or smooth skin will help him there. How does he manage it? Maybe he pissed off a spirit at some point. Forever cursed to try and pick up categorically uninterested people.

Sammy’s not about to ask Patraz to join. Not out of spite or anything. He’s a fine person when it counts. Quick on his feet. Doesn’t get in the way. Kept watch during yesterday’s incident.

No, Sammy won’t ask because Patraz has already left the party. The man had joined them a few weeks before coming to Aerst. Tried to get it on with Claine. Failed for obvious reasons. Went for Sammy after he realized his mistake. That failed too, of course. Sammy’s doing just fine by himself. He never understood why some people go to such lengths for their amorous aspirations.

Well. Anyway. No more reason to stay in the Guild. Time to go outside. Have a patrol, maybe.