Dancing topless women serving me pitchers of ale. Each one steps up and pours the beer into my mouth, drop by drop. There is Pela, just beautiful, gesturing with one finger for me to follow her to a bed. I know what I want to—

“Solo!”

Is my world a-rocking?

“Lone, wake up! The messenger from the Count has arrived.”

“What? What? I am up.” Looking around the table, there are empty platters of food, and a few jugs as well. Looking over at the wall clock, damn, I have been asleep for nearly three hours. “Why did you let me sleep for so long?”

“Aww, cause you’re so cute!” Gunnar exclaims sarcastically. “Considering the wounds that you have, I can't believe you were able to stay up for so long. My magic uses the person's own reserves to heal them.” Pushes a plate towards me. “You can eat this after you talk to pretty boy over there.”

Seeing the plate of food, my stomach sounds like fifty cats in a sack. But there is still a primped-up man to deal with first. Wander over with the plate in my hands. I look him straight in the eye—noble types do not like us peasants doing that. “Yes, you have a message for me?”

Leaving enough space for him to introduce himself, he looks like he is winding up for a huge speech. I should just shove this food down my throat as soon as I can.

“I, Esquire Ludwig Killjoy of Briartown, am here to present a message from His Excellency Count Darel Isenhart, Fifteenth Count of Lake Merrin, Lord-Captain of the Duke's Shield, third cousin of Duke Trahern Isenhart III, Guardian of the West, Ferrumborn—”

Is he going to go into the whole history of Favinonia? Just zone out and eat.

He is still going. Damn, will he ever shut up?

“Ahem, Lone Solo.”

Stillwater elbows me in the ribs and whispers, “Lone!”

“Ah, yes, sorry. I am hungry. Go on.” He does not look pleased. This lowly squire is giving me the stink eye!

“Your attendance is requested tonight at the Grand Ball. You will be receiving the honour of being presented the—” I think that is a sneer! “—Iron Medal of Heroism.”

Good, now we can use this whole medal and party plan. “Is my Charter invited as well?”

He looks down at the paperwork. “According to this, you are a solo Adventurer; no Charter registered.”

“Well, you are incorrect. This is my Charter here. Is it not customary for said Iron Medal winner’s party to be in attendance?” I can hear snickering in the background. Assuming it is either Pela or Gunnar.

“I will need to confirm your Charter’s registration paperwork.”

As he wanders over to Royce, I turn to my gang, grinning. “I love doing that to the priggish upper crust. What do we do if he says no?”

Shrugs from WayWocket and Gunnar. “Well, you will have to talk to the Count alone. No other option, but judging by his expression right now, I think we are all good.”

He looks a little steamed under the collar as he walks back over. “After reviewing the paperwork, I wish to extend an additional invitation to you three gentlemen—” A growl comes from Stillwater’s lips. “—to the Grand Ball.”

He turns back to me and hands over three pages of documents. “The Count, in all his kindness, would like to supply you with garments and any other necessities you require for the upcoming ball. On the first sheet is your invitation. Make sure you are there by four o'clock; the second is a letter of credit to a fantastic tailor, and third is for a most reputable bathhouse.”

I skimmed the letters of credit. It only accounts for myself, not the others. “Excuse me, esquire, this credit seems quite small for the four of us.”

He looks at me and gives a tight smile. “Well, His Excellency was not properly informed about your party situation, so, unfortunately, you will need to make do with the monetary credit amount as it stands. Good day, gentlemen.”

As he walks off, could I throw my cup at the back of his head? No, the ale is too good to waste.

“We have one thousand slips. I was hoping to get more out of him. I cannot believe that this was only going to be for me.” Looking at the clock. “We have eight hours before we have to be there. Does anyone know where this overpriced tailor is?”

“Let me have a look. Hmm, just off Coin Street ... I know him, helped him regarding a robbery.” Stillwater continues, “His name is Javier. He runs the shop with his seamstress wife Lien. Gunnar, you will need to be on your best behaviour, as they are of Elven blood.”

“Yes, boss.”

If I really cared, I would ask Gunnar exactly why he hates those of Elven descent. “Are we heading down there now, then off to the bathhouse?”

Wonder what a rich man's bathhouse is like. I doubt that either Stillwater or the Count will allow me to indulge.

“Hopefully I can get a discount with Javier.”

I hope so too, Stillwater, but what would I have worn with all those slips to spend? I could buy nearly ten outfits with that sort of cash, or some new weapons and armour. Damn it, I could pay off Pela with that money.

“It’s just a few streets over so shouldn't take that long to walk there.” Stillwater motions at us. “Everyone will need to be on their best behaviour.”

Walking down the road, I muse, “I wonder if the cloth is softer than commoner clothes. I have heard some are made from Havanti silk or delicate wool from the highlands of the Northern Electorate. You would not believe what I wore at the orphanage. It was a little better than a sack, but it kept you warm, and we did have pants and warm shoes too. It was not all bad.”

“Will you shut up, Halfy! Your prattle is grating my ears. Havanti silk, ha! You might be given a suit made of common cotton, and you should be happy with that. In the Trinity's name, who cares?”

Thank you so much, Gunnar. I can dream. Better to be the bigger man—not hard considering he is a Dwarf. I chuckle aloud at that. “You are right, Gunnar. Just nervous. Joan, have you been to one of these dos before?”

As we turn up Coin Street, I am so tired I really do not even care what the name of the streets are! “No, never been invited. Not my thing anyway. Have you?”

Gunnar cuts me off before I can answer. “Yeah, in my youth. My father used to hold several a year to keep up appearances. Not a fan, but us going at four means that we will be the first in there.”

Gunnar has gone to noble parties? Who is this guy? “What do you mean by 'we will be the first in'?”

“We’re not rich or noble or anything of note. We are just there because of you getting that medal,” Gunnar says, exasperated.

So here is his tailor shop, Cuffed Shirt—interesting. Stillwater chimes in, “Will the Count be there, greeting the guests?”

“Yeah, but he won't have time for us when there are more important people behind us. The Herald will announce us, and then we’ll move in. Might get a nod from the Count, until the Duke enters. He wouldn't even rise from his seat.”

Wow, never knew, or cared, that Gunnar had knowledge of this sort of thing. Maybe I should listen to him until tomorrow. I feel unclean just walking into this place. Ooo, lovely seamstresses. At least I have something to look at. Damn, is that the price? Twenty-five hundred slips? That one is even more! Might not find something here for the four of us.

“Ahem. Can I … help you?” I'm guessing that this is Javier.

See, Saul, this is how you work a moustache! Grand and styled perfectly to suit his handsome face. Pity that stuck up Gnome is not here.

“Javier, hello! Joan Stillwater, remember?”

“Ah, my lady Joan.” Say what? Some crazy something. She giggles, great! “Ah, I see you have the same dubious group around you! What can we do for you today?”

“You are so sweet, Javier. Careful, your wife might take your precious stones if you are not too careful.”

A woman approaches. I am guessing she is Javier’s wife. Wow, I thought those young lasses were nice, but they have got nothing over this woman.

“I know my Javier. He is such a sweet talker, but if he ever does anything—!”

“You wound me, my beloved! I only have eyes for you.” The two women laugh knowingly together while Javier wears a melodramatic, pained expression that makes his moustache droop. This must be an inside joke.

“We have a bit of a problem we were hoping you could help us with, Javier. Lone here is being awarded the Iron Medal of Heroism tonight and has been directed to your shop by Count Darel.” Javier’s eyes widen, and he looks at me. Why do I think he is too surprised at that? “But as he is now in our newly-formed Charter, we three are also going. But unfortunately, we have nothing appropriate to wear! Would you be able to help us out?”

I step forward and hand him what he wants—the letter of credit. “Aha, only five hundred slips to spend. Hmmm, let me think.”

He looks at each of us intently and quickly moves to the back of the shop. Javier’s wife Lien speaks up, “Do not worry about my husband! He is a little eccentric. We will do our best to help you.”

I cannot identify the Elven in these two. Lien does have lobeless ears, but are they pointed? Stop staring, it is weird. I have no idea what I should do. I really do not want to touch anything. Definitely, do not want Gunnar to touch anything.

Javier comes back with loads of clothes in his arms. “Here we go.” Dumps them onto a table. “These are all unwanted items from Noble’s orders. Mostly we reuse them in other garments, but I could tailor them to fit you and your chaperons, Joan.”

Stillwater smiles and gracefully thanks Javier for his help. Javier claps his hands and instructs, “Excellent! Joan, Lien will take your measurements. Gentlemen, to the back!” He strides off into another room, and we follow. “Please take off your clothes. I will need to take your measurements.”

I look around at the other two. I am still wearing my armour, and I think Gunnar is too. “Could you give me a hand? I’m wearing a chain shirt.”

“Yes, of course,” Javier says as he exits. Without a sound, a young boy appears and immediately starts to help me pull my shirt over my head. Being naked in front of a bunch of guys reminds me of my army days. “I can do the rest. Could you help the Dwarf with his armour? It might take some time to remove.” The boy nods and shuffles off to help Gunnar.

“Get your grubby hands off me, half-breed!” I look over, and Gunnar has struck the boy.

“By Jara’s mighty hammer, Gunnar! He is just a boy! Stillwater warned you to be polite!” I look at the boy, and his hair has swept up to reveal a small, pointed ear. He must be a second generation.

Javier returns, storming over to Gunnar. I quickly come out with, “Sorry about that, Javier. The lad slipped and fell. Did you not, lad?”

The boy looks at me and then Javier and nods. “Go clean yourself up, son.” He turns back to me. “Sorry about that, he usually isn't that clumsy. Good, you are done. I’ll measure you up first.” I would have preferred his wife or one of those beautiful seamstresses. “See, not so bad. I have a few garments that will fit you.”

Being average has its advantages sometimes. “So, is everyone here your family?”

“Oh, yes. I have three boys and four girls. Each following in our footsteps. If I could, I would have a Cuffed Shirt in every city! I have finished. You can get dressed now.”

As I go back to my bench, I glare at Gunnar and mouth 'Be nice'. He just grunts in my direction. Better than nothing. Wonder what Joan will wear. Not sure if they will find something to fit her. She is pretty big.

One of the pretty daughters comes in and just ignores me being all sexy. “Father, could you come help, please? We are having some problems finding Joan something to wear.”

“My lad will finish with the measurements. I’ll be right back.”

Javier hurries off. I knew that was going to happen. I wander over to Gunnar as the boy is measuring WayWocket. “I do not care if you hit me, but a child? What is your problem?”

“Piss off, Halfy, you don't understand.” Just stand there, I am not letting him get to me. Just shrug this off. “How can you empathise with me? You are Truth-spawn.”

“Wow, that is the most stupid, most bigoted thing I have ever heard!” The lad just looks at me and shakes his head before walking out of the room. Great, have to wait for Javier. “What about me being a half-breed makes you think I cannot interpret what you are saying?”

And here is a sight I never wanted to see: a naked WayWocket. Burns and scars all over his body, and is that a metal pipe instead of a… What the hell happened to you, WayWocket?

“It’s simple, Solo. You are not a Dwarf. Being an orphan, you will never understand the need for family that drives Dwarven existence.”

“Put some clothes on, Way! I really do not need to see that metal ding-a-ling.” Always the sensitive case.

Gunnar continues, “You will never know what it’s like to have a family that is your whole existence. Or be told every day that family needs to be protected, and in turn, they will protect you.” He starts to tear up. Great. “Your father and mother. Every day, family this, family that.”

Thanks so much for the explanation, Gunnar. Yes, you had a family, and of course, I do not know what that is like. Breathe in and out. Do not jump down his throat. “Yes, Gunnar, you are right, I would not know. I never knew my da or my ma. I had a sister, and she is now a prostitute. Family is unknown for me, but I know what it is like to be half-human. You think being from a family allows you to be a dickhead to everyone, huh?”

WayWocket has finally put on pants—good—but I have a few questions for him now. Being in a party together, I would like to know what is what.

“See, see, you can't perceive. Only beholding is the way you can comprehend what truly can be seen.” What? WayWocket is talking crazy again. “Dawn-walk the path of comprehension. Only seeing the dark with light reign.”

“Thanks so much, Way.” Gunnar just likes to be a grump; it must be a family thing. “After it was driven into me to protect my family, I had an encounter with an … Elf.” Oh, now I see. Had a little booty call. “Her hair was white as snow, so beautiful, and I lay with her. Being half-breed yourself, you know what happened.”

Yep, an Elf’s hair goes pure white when it is their breeding season. That is how my ma got knocked up. “Sure I do, and?”

“I found out and went to my father. He gave me a choice: either our family or this new family. I will let you guess which I chose.”

This seems like a trick. “Let me guess, you chose the Elf and you lived happily ever after?” I laugh a little, then I see his face. I did not think you could lose all the colour in your face and still look furious too.

“Damn right I did! Biggest mistake I have ever made! Kicked out of my home, disowned by my family, and then that whore leaves me because I have no money. To darkest pit of Abyssus with all Elven kind!”

“Ahem.” Javier is back. “I need to finish your measurements, Dwarf.” I step back to give him room. “If you weren't with Joan Stillwater, I would have you dragged out of my store!” That shuts Gunnar up. Javier goes over and does the same thing for WayWocket. “That is all I need. Is there any particular style you want?”

As I am about to speak, WayWocket pipes in, “Colours! Red, blue, purple, green. Rainbow!”

“Ah, yes, I can do that. And you?” He turns to me.

I can see he is ignoring Gunnar. “Something classy, best thing I can have. I do not have nice clothes so something beautiful would be welcome.”

Javier nods. “I assume that you all are heading to some sort of bathing place?”

“Yeah, this place.” I pull out the other credit letter. “Do you know where it is?”

Javier peers over to read the name. “Just down Coin, up on Affluent Road.” What road? Why not Rich-As Road, or We-Swim-in-Gold Boulevard? “Shouldn't be hard to find it. The Count is going all out for you.”

“Affluent Road, hey? Sure thing. Thanks. Could you have someone come get us when our clothes are ready?”

Javier slaps me on the back. “Don't worry! I'll get my boys to bring them to you. Joan is still being fitted, so you go on ahead.”

“Thanks. Come on, lads! Off to have a bath!”