Chương 39: Recruiting

We clattered down the cobblestone streets of Inizio like a two man parade of questionable fashion choices. I was jingling with every step thanks to my new gunner trinkets, while Dimitri sounded like a silverware drawer falling down a flight of stairs. It was hard to feel like a legendary hero when your boots make a squelching sound and your partner is wearing a literal cooking pot on his head, but at least we weren't the weirdest thing in this town. Probably.

Dimitri adjusted his heavy iron cuffs and looked over at me with a smile so bright it could have powered a small village.

"Now that we have armored ourselves for the trials ahead on the second floor, it is time to think of the strength that comes from others," he rumbled, his thick accent making every word sound like a warm hug.

"The laws of this realm dictate that a fellowship may hold up to five souls. This means our little circle has room for three more spirits to join our cause." I dodged a puddle of something I really hoped was just mud.

"That's actually a solid plan," I admitted, trying to imagine who else would be crazy enough to hang out with us.

"Do you have a shortlist of candidates, or are we just going to post a flyer on a tavern wall and hope for the best?" Dimitri came to a halt and tapped a massive, hide-covered finger against his chin. He looked deep in thought, as if he were scanning a mental Rolodex of every person he had ever helped across a street.

"My heart has been blessed with many acquaintances in this land," he said, his voice brimming with that relentless, motivational kindness.

"The struggle is not in finding a companion, but in deciding which of these beautiful souls would benefit most from our journey together." I let out a long, dramatic sigh and rolled my eyes so hard I nearly saw the back of my own skull.

"Wow, okay. Thanks for that, Dimitri," I said, giving him a look of mock betrayal.

"I really appreciate you just casually rubbing it in my face that you are basically the most popular guy in Eteria while I am over here with a social circle that currently consists of you, a creepy junk merchant, and the invisible lady living inside my brain." Dimitri let out a hearty chuckle that rattled his iron-cuffed greaves, his eyes sparkling with the kind of pure, unadulterated joy usually reserved for sunrise over a mountain range.

"I have just the person in mind, my friend! I know a young woman with a heart that roars as loud as a lion in the golden grass," he rumbled, his thick Russian accent making the description sound like a line from an epic poem.

"She is a weaver of the elements, a true master of the natural forces. We crossed paths only a few days ago, and I could tell immediately that her spirit possesses the fire and strength that our little fellowship requires to thrive." I adjusted the strap of my new jacket, trying to ignore the way it pinched under my arms.

"Alright, sounds promising. Where exactly do we track down this lionhearted pyromaniac? Is she meditating under a waterfall or training in a sacred grove?" This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Dimitri didn't even skip a beat, his smile widening until it reached his lead ear stud.

"She is currently residing in the local tavern." Without waiting for another word, he pivoted on his reinforced heels and began marching in the opposite direction, his heavy boots thumping against the cobblestones with rhythmic, confident purpose. I stared at his retreating, iron-clad back for a second, a very specific image forming in my mind of what "fierce spirit" actually meant in a dark, sticky-floored pub.

"Right, the tavern. Of course," I muttered, jogging a few steps to catch up with my clanking, motivational tank of a partner.

"I'm starting to get the feeling that the fierce spirit you noticed in her is actually about eighty proof and served in a dirty glass." I let out a sigh and followed him into the heart of the village, wondering if our new recruit was going to be an elemental master or just the reigning champion of the mid-afternoon happy hour. We wove through the crowded marketplace of Inizio, dodging merchants screaming about their discounted cabbages, until we pulled up in front of the local watering hole.

It was situated right in the thick of the trade district, which was strategically brilliant for anyone who wanted to spend their hard-earned loot on liquid bad decisions. Even though the sun was still doing its morning stretch, the place was absolutely packed. I guess when you live in a world where a giant snail might try to dissolve you for breakfast, 10: 00 AM is a perfectly reasonable time for a cold one.

As we stepped through the entrance, the air hit me like a physical wall of stale hops and unwashed adventurers. Players were everywhere, slumped over scarred wooden tables or shouting over the general din of a busy morning rush. Dimitri, however, didn't seem bothered by the noise or the smell. He stood there like a beacon of positivity in a room full of hangovers, his gaze sweeping across the dimly lit room with the patience of a saint. Suddenly, his face lit up like he had just spotted a long-lost puppy.

He clearly found the "lion" he was looking for among the sea of mismatched gear and empty flagons. He didn't hesitate for a second, leading the way through the crowd while I trailed behind, trying not to let my new gunner trinkets jingle too loudly and draw attention to my "Noob's First Armor" look. We made a beeline for a specific spot, and Dimitri raised a massive, leather-wrapped hand in an enthusiastic wave that probably could have been seen from the next floor up.

"My dear friend, June!" he boomed, his voice carrying that thick, honeyed Russian accent across the bar like a warm gust of wind.

"It brings such gladness to my heart to see your light shining in this place!" Perched atop the wooden counter like she was sitting on a throne rather than a sticky bar top was a girl who looked like she had accidentally wandered out of a high-end shampoo commercial and into this den of inequity. She was nursing a glass of something amber and chatting with the bartender, her long blonde hair cascading down her back like a literal waterfall of gold.

She had these striking blue eyes and skin so pale and flawless it looked like she had been sculpted from fine porcelain by a master craftsman who really knew his way around a clay mold. She looked to be right around my age, maybe eighteen or nineteen, though she carried herself with a kind of poise that suggested she wasn't just another confused teenager like me. She was rocking a full set of Tier 0 Elementalist gear, and let me tell you, it was a hot mess.

Between the faded linen tunic that looked like it had survived a dozen laundry accidents and those humble reed sandals, her outfit was just as mismatched and ridiculous as mine. The difference was that she was so distractingly attractive that the gear actually worked on her. On me, this stuff looked like a cry for help; on her, it looked like a bold fashion statement from a runway in a castle. It was totally unfair.

She turned her head as we approached, her gaze landing on the walking mountain of iron that was Dimitri. Instead of looking intimidated by the clanking giant, she offered him a small, delicate smile that probably could have ended wars. Dimitri leaned in and they started exchanging words, but between the roar of the morning crowd and the distance I was keeping to avoid being stepped on, their conversation was lost to me.

I just stood back and watched the "lion" interact with the "saint," wondering how someone who looked like a literal princess ended up being the fierce elementalist our party apparently needed.