Wet rocks of the main road glistened in the morning sun. The same rocks crunched under Muscolo’s weight, as he carefully carried the still unconscious Bokh. Many elves gave them and their companion disgusted, confused and questioning looks.

When the group entered the city, first thing that came to their minds was to ask where was the closest inn. Sadly, that inn was too expensive for them and, when Hudal refused to contribute any more than the rest of them, they had to ask one more time where they could find the closest and cheapest inn around. All the staff and elves close by pointed out only one such establishment on the skirmishes of the capital.

When they have arrived at Butovo, they were greeted with all familiar sense of poor quality, criminal activities and general sense of dread of the citizens around. One would think that no self-respectable government would allow such a shit hole of a place occupy part of the capital, but no one even thought of calling the elven government self-respectable, when inner conflicts and paranoid attitudes towards distant cousins took most of the royal families’ resources.

The rocks glistened around, as did the others outside of Butovo, but in a much dirtier way. The faint smell of urine and other elven excrements forced Hudal to gag so violently, he was surprised that he didn’t contribute to the filth around.

“Fine!” he said, when he got used to the surrounding smell. “Let’s go to that other inn. I’ll pay up...” But, when he raised his head to look at his companions, they were already heading into the establishment, bearing the same name as the neighborhood. Trying his hardest to catch up all the while trying even harder not to step into something that would take months to get rid of, he rushed after them. “What are you doing?!” They did not answer.

A faint light shined from within wooden letters of the inn’s sign. It was a level 1 spell simply called Light, which did as the name suggested. This variant of the spell was primarily used by such establishments and young dungeon crawlers to illuminate the area around and get as much possible attention as possible: former for advertisement and the latter to keep their companions close by, which were comparatively close in their nature.

The establishment’s front bell started ringing profusely, when the five people went in. Some seconds later it resumed ringing, when the sixth person in the face of Hudal managed to open relatively huge door. When they took in the inside of the inn, they could barely say that the place was cleaner than the streets outside. A dimly lit bar, as was expected of the place, had the smell of hundreds smoke and alcohol induced throats. A couple of scarred faces could be found among the usual drunk crowd, signifying moderate popularity of the establishment. A dwarven barkeep threw a glance at the approaching group and gave them a firm nod, as if he was asking: “What would you like to drink?”

“How much per night?” Syln said confidently, such bars being his forte.

The dwarf moved his gaze over them, then ducked under the bar. Soon, he risen from under the table with a thick dusty book. He blew the dust away and opened it on the right page. The papers inside were yellow as the high noon sun. A bare withered feather was laid inside. A small bottle with ‘INK’ written in shaky handwriting signified the bottle’s purpose. After a minute of searching, the dwarf stabbed his stubby finger at an entry that said 25PP.

Syln gave Hudal a look and smiled. “We’ll have two rooms for two nights”, he said while staring at the halfling.

Hudal furrowed his eyebrows and said: “That’s going out of your pay”.

The barkeep and Felia watched the exchange between them. The dwarf’s shoulders twitched in an attempt to hide his shrug. He put the feather in the ink-bottle, covering it in dark-brownish viscous substance instead of the expected ink, and written two new entries in the book. He took two keys from behind the counter and handed them to Syln.

When they received the keys to their rooms, the group slumpily went up the stairs. Only Felia stayed with a worried look in her eyes. She glared at the bar around and then slowly and carefully, as a scared cat, approached the dwarven barkeep. “Do you know, by any chance, where to find a doctor around these parts?” She glanced at Muscolo, somewhere in whose muscles Bokh was located.

Dwarf’s eyebrows rushed up in surprise, but only by a millimeter or so. An adventuring group without a healer? Now that was something to be a witness of. But, as a good host, he answered her question by pointing a finger in the midst of the bar, where an older elf was drinking his fourth mug of beer.

The elf was obviously a veteran adventurer, if his long dazed look and withered sun symbol meant anything. He was also extremely drunk, and that didn’t put too much hope in Felia. She looked back at the barkeep. “Maybe you could tell, what room he is in?”

The dwarf only jabbed a thumb at the front door. Felia gave him a nod in acknowledgement. If she didn’t approach the supposed doctor now, he would most likely leave the bar, what didn’t mash with the the young elf’s plan to heal the still unconscious Bokh.

“Excuse me?”

The drunk elf swayed so hard that if not for the back of his chair he would already be lying in a nearby green puddle. “Yes?” he slurred in a grizzled voice.

Felia took another good look at him, deciding whether or not to run. Then she took a deep breath and gagged. The veteran adventurer was silently following her every move. She hyperventilated for a bit and finally spoke: “Could you, please, take a look at our companion?”

The old elf looked at her, brought the mug to his mouth and in three big gulps finished up the rest of his beer. A very challenging task, since the mug was almost full. As he slammed the cup back on the table and satisfactory burped, he said in the same slurred voice: “Of course, m’dame! How can I be of service?”

“I just told you...”

“No worries!” He stood up and brushed off inexistant dust off of his tunic. “Lead the way and I will make sure to help you!”

Felia fell silent. As she did so, she realized, so did the rest of the crowd around. Silent gazes stared at them. but a couple of chuckles could be heard from the same people. She gulped. “Maybe, I should look for someone else...”

“NONSENSE! I shall be of service to all dames in need! Just take me to your friend!”

“Compan...”

“Companion!” he interjected.

Felia didn’t know what else to do, but to come to terms with whatever she got herself into, and slump her way up the stairs to wherever her group put Bokh to rest.

There were only two rooms. And one of them was closed. So, because of a lack of an alternative, she opened the other door. When the door creaked, she didn’t even get a chance to look at what was happening inside, because the adventurer took a wide step right into the room. He looked around. Syln, Hudal, Cervella and Muscolo stared back at him. When Syln opened his mouth to ask, who the hell he was, the elf interrupted him: “Well! Where’s the patient?”

Syln was momentarily stunned. Then he looked at the bed opposite of him, where a grey small figure was laid upon. The elf snapped his head so viciously that his neck cracked a little bit. “Aha!” He took a step towards the bed.

Felia sheepishly stepped into the room. Syln gave her a questioning glance. She shrugged. The dwarf shook his head and approached the elf beside the bed. “And who are you supposed to be, gospod?”

The elf only raised his hand to his chin to stroke it in thought, as he examined Bokh. “Gospod?” asked Syln again.

When a minute of silence passed, dwarf approached the veteran adventurer and snapped his fingers in front of the elf’s face. The floor creaked and the elf fell right on his back, where he started snoring.

All stared at him and shared a confused glance with the others. As silent as they were, which wasn’t too much due to the passed out adventurer at their feet, many words were passed between them. In general, the words went “What the fuck?”, “Who the fuck?” and “Why the fuck?” As if to answer their unspoken question the elf on the floor snorted in delightful ignorant bliss of a person, who would regret that night, when the next morning should come.

A cough and a sniff later, Syln finally spoke up: “Felia?”

The rogue felt as her own body started shrinking on itself without her consent. “Yes?” she squeezed the single syllable out of the tightened throat.

“Who is that?” the dwarf pointed a finger at the body on the floor. Felia fidgeted in thought. When she didn’t answer, he repeated: “Who is that?”

“I...” she started and quickly stopped, only to continue: “I thought that we should heal Bokh, and he was the only healer the barkeep pointed at, and when I talked to him I couldn’t stop him...” She fell silent for another moment. “I could only take him here. Thought he could do at least something”.

“Well, he certainly did...” Syln looked at the elf in question. “...something”.

“Well… what should we do?”

“We?” stepped into the conversation Hudal. “You were the one, who brought the drunk fuck!”

“Calm down”, Syln said interrupting the halfling. “We should just leave someone here with him. And before you say anything,” he raised a palm to stop the furious tradesman, “yes, it should be Felia”.

“Me?”

“Who else? As Hudal said, you were the one who brought him here, and you should be responsible for whatever he might do”.

Felia was struck speechless. She was only trying to help! She decided to look for support from others, when she momentarily forgot, who she was dealing with. As Cervella smirked in the background, she was swiftly reminded of that. The young elf sulked her head, as she took a seat on the bed beside Bokh. There was no point in arguing, she understood. Especially, when they were right.

**************************************

Felia didn’t notice as she fell asleep. It was only natural that she would do that, since last night was more than simply tiring. A loud creak, however, woke her right up. Yesterday’s events were still fresh in her mind, forcing her hearing to be slightly more sharp. A single ray of evening sunlight shined through the dim and dirty window. Bokh was right behind her, still soundly asleep, but slightly healthier than the same morning. The elf on the floor before her, however, was on his fours, trying to hold in the upcoming contents of his stomach. A futile effort, at best.

A barrage of yellow-green substance escaped the adventurer’s mouth, coloring the floorboards underneath and, judging by the angry screams from under the floor, the people below. Felia was surprised that she didn’t hear any stomps of angry feet rushing up the stairs to kill whoever dared to ruin their evening. What she didn’t know was that the locals were used to such common occasions and didn’t see any use in wasting their strength on each person, who did that. If they did, no one would still be alive in the neighborhood.

The elf heaved two more times and, when the empty stomach failed to give more, stood up, each limb shaking. He turned, looking for something with a confused look, and his gaze met Felia. She stared at him, comparing to the elf she met this morning. He staggered for a bit and looked behind her. The older elf’s arm made a circling gesture, trying to comprehend what happened. “Did we?...” he started. Felia didn’t know how to answer, so she continued looking at him questioningly. “All three of us?” he continued, circling his arms in a broad way.

The young elf raised her eyebrows, as she understood the implications. “What?! No!”

“Oh, thank Leche! I thought for a moment, that...” He pointed a bony finger at Bokh, when he fell silent. “What’s wrong with him?”

“That’s what I was going to ask you, when I brought you here”.

The elf started nodding profusely in understanding. Or he was probably just trying to get as far away from this place as fast as possible. “Yeah, yeah, I understand!” He looked down at the sun on his tunic and crossed his arms right in front of it, failing to obscure it.

Felia looked at Bokh then back to the old elf. “Could you, please, take a look at him?”

The adventurer smiled nervously. “No, no. I should not”.

“Aren’t you a healer or something?”

The elf stiffened. “I really shouldn’t...”

Felia couldn’t believe her own ears. The over enthusiastic elf from this very morning, whom she failed to stop, was refusing to even inspect the obviously ill elf? The adventurer was even throwing gazes at the door, trying to shift step by step towards it and away from her. She stood up, flabbergasted. How did he dare to abandon a fellow elf in need? Especially, a Leche’s follower?! She went through so much trouble just to be rejected?! Not today, she thought to herself, as her unconsciously went behind her back to grab the dagger. She rushed to the fucker before her, barely avoiding the vomit pool, pinned him to the wall and put the blade right to his neck.

“Listen here, you shitbag!” she barked through her teeth. “You will either heal my friend over there or I will start off cutting off your fingers one by one, until you do so!” She was surprised at her own words, but even more so, when she felt that they were genuine.

Intimidation is now level 4.

Level up! You are now a level 9 rogue. You may now redistribute 5 points between Dexterity[30], Endurance[23], Charisma[22].

The elf was terrified. He shook vigorously. After a moment of clattering teeth, Felia felt something warm forming at her feet. She looked down to see the elf’s damp pants, as a small puddle was forming at his boots. Rogue was furious. “Did you just fucking piss yourself?!” The adventurer shook his head in acknowledgement. “How do you even dare then call yourself an adventurer?!”

“I don’t!” he pleaded. “I am not an adventurer!” Tears formed at the bottom of his eyes, while they were still wide open with terror. “Not anymore, I am not!”

“Then why do you wear Leche’s tunic?”

“These are the only clothes I’ve got! Life’s hard, when you can’t adventure no more...”

Felia felt a little sad for him. Was it his past life or was it because she felt the same way, when she was an orphan roaming the streets? It didn’t matter now, she understood and so she asked: “Do you still remember something from your old days that could help my friend?”

He started nodding. “Yes, yes!!! I might not have the skills, but one can never forget how to treat wounds!” he exclaimed.

“Then do so”, Felia ordered him and took away the dagger from his neck. The elf collapsed, his hands going into the puddle of his own piss. He scrambled to the bed, trying not to look at the furious sight that was the rogue behind him, and finally inspected Bokh.

It took ten minutes of him thoroughly looking up and down the injured elf, looking underneath his clothes and generally doing the best he could, while being watched by a potential murderer. “I-it’s...” he stammered. “It’s Mana Fatigue”.

“And what is that?”

He looked at her with a glimpse of anger and confusion in his eyes. “It’s pretty self-explanatory, don’t you think?”

“Maybe you could explicate that thought. With one less finger, if you continue speaking like that to me”.

The elf’s eyes widened. “Yes, yes… sorry...” He turned back to Felia. “Mana Fatigue is when a magic user uses up his magic reserves and then continues to cast even more after that. You see, mana is very close to stamina, except that instead of moving around it’s all about how great of the spells a magic user can… use”. The older elf stared at his counterpart. “By the way, what church is he from? I can’t find any insignia on his clothes. At all”.

She stared blankly at him. “Can you help him?”

“Of course! Of course… I still need to know what church he is from, so that I could take him to the respective ward...”

“So,” Felia reinstipilated, “you can’t help him”.

The elf lowered his head. “I told you, I am not an adventurer anymore”.

Rogue furrowed her brows in thought. “Is there any other way to help him?”

The elf’s eyes twitched. “No other way, no”.

Felia felt suspicion fall over her. She stood up, grabbed a key, Syln put in a drawer near the bed. “Where are you?...” she heard, as she slammed the door shut and locked it. She went to the next room and knocked on its door. A minute later a very sleepy dwarf opened the door.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Bokh is experiencing Mana Fatigue, and the healer I took in today is being sketchy about how to help him”.

Syln rubbed his left eye. “Mana Fatigue, you say? Well, we should get him a mana potion or two then, to replenish him”. Felia furrowed her eyebrows even more, as she briefly imagined what she would do to the fucking liar. “And what’s so sketchy about the lad?”

“He was looking for a church’s insignia on his clothes and tried to convince me to take him to one of the nearby healing wards”.

Syln dropped his arms to his sides. “And you left him alone with Bokh?”

“No worries”, she said and raised the key to the dwarf’s face. “I locked them. And if he tries something funny, we should hear him through the wall”.

He shrugged, grabbed the chainmail armour beside and put it on. “Might as well, check on what the fuck he is thinking to do”.

When they got to the door and unlocked it, what they saw shook them. The healer was trying his best to choke the unconscious magic user.

Felia rushed to the bed stabbing the ex-adventurer in the shoulder. She threw him on the ground and stepped on the dagger hilt, pinning the older elf to the ground. His dark almost black blood mixed with the other two substances. The elf groaned in agony, jabbing his free arm at Felia’s leg.

“I am going to kill you, worthless piece of shit!”

“I’m sorry!” he whaled, groping the leg. “I’m so sorry!”

“Sorry?! You just fucking tried to kill him!”

“I know! I know! And I’m so sorry!”

“You’ll be sorry! That’s for sure!” She pronounced each word in her last sentence, twisting the dagger with each syllable.The older elf yelped with each twist, meat and muscles squelched.

“Money!” he said, when Felia stopped. “Bounty for all wizards, sorcerers and warlocks! Dead or alive! You have to know it! You are an elf!”

“This doesn’t mean that you have a freedom to kill someone in their sleep, you sick fuck!”

The adventurer started sobbing. Felia was disgusted. She pushed the dagger deeper into the injured elf’s shoulder and took a step back, right next to the dwarf. Who, as she realized, was uncharacteristically silent.

She turned her gaze towards Syln. His face was a mixture of shock and confusion with a sprinkle of fear thrown into the mix. He stared at her, right palm still on the doorframe. She looked down in shame, even though she understood that she should feel none of it. After all, she was the one who just saved the wizard, whether or not she was brutal about it. When her gaze met her feet, she regretted doing so, since the blood-piss-vomit mixture wasn’t something one could simply ignore.

Felia looked back up at the dwarf and said: “I did right”. A slight uprise of her voice at the end of the sentence made it difficult to decipher if it was a question or a statement. Her body a head higher than usual and still shaking from the adrenaline made the disturbing image even much more so, as droplets of blood flew from her fingers and clothes. Her chest rose up and went back down, as she took in deep calming breaths.

Syln was looking back and forth between the three elves in the room. The adventurer still slightly sobbing, grabbed the handle of the dagger stuck in his shoulder, yanked it out with a yelp of pain, and his sorrow began anew, as he let the dagger fall on the floor beside him. “I… wasn’t expecting such a turn of events” he admitted finally. “Not from you, that’s for sure”.

Felia stabbed a finger at the elf on the floor. “He refused to inspect...” she hesitated for a second. “...our companion”. Syln was silent. “I doubt that you wouldn’t do the same, after what you saw”.

Syln raised his hands in defeat. “Yes, you are right”. She looked him over and for the first time noticed he wasn’t carrying any of his weapons. Lucky for that shithead, she thought. He would be dead for sure, otherwise. And it wouldn’t be a bad thing…