Chương 44: Druid

I turned my attention back to Fiona. She was standing there with that gentle, mossy vibe, looking like she'd been styled for the cover of an adventuring magazine. I gestured toward her perfectly coordinated outfit, then back at my own mismatched mess of leather and bells.

"Anyway, moving past the social politics, I have a very important question," I said, leaning in.

"Where on earth did you get that set of gear? You actually look like you belong in a party, whereas Dimitri and I look like we got dressed in the dark during a hurricane. Seriously, why do you look so well put together?" Fiona tilted her head, her hip length curls swaying as she offered a warm, hopeful smile. When she opened her mouth, the air was once again filled with that dense, impenetrable Highland fog that sounded like a bagpipe trying to swallow a handful of marbles.

"Oh, a' got it frae Hekter's shop, ye ken? The braw auld fella wha bides in the murky wee alleyway jist roun' the corner frae here," she chirped, her voice bubbling with a kindness that I could feel even if I couldn't translate a single word of it. I stood there for a long beat, staring at her while my brain desperately tried to unscramble the linguistic static. It was no use.

"Okay, I'm going to be honest here," I said, looking back at Dimitri and June.

"I caught the name Hekter and literally nothing else. The rest of that was just a series of very pleasant, rhythmic noises. But here is the problem: we bought our gear from Hekter too! So why do we look like a walking thrift store accident while she looks like a professional forest guardian? Is there a secret VIP section in that junk shop that we didn't get invited to?" June gave me a look that was roughly ninety percent pity and ten percent genuine concern for my eyesight.

She adjusted her linen tunic with a sharp, regal snap, looking down at my mismatched mess of gear as if it were a stain she was trying to ignore.

"The explanation is painfully simple, Arthur," she remarked, her posh British accent making the insult sound like a royal decree.

"You are quite clearly just abysmal at the fundamental task of selecting quality equipment. One must have an eye for these things, and yours is evidently clouded by a lack of taste." I snorted, crossing my arms over my jangling gunner trinkets.

"Oh, you are definitely the one to talk," I shot back, giving her a pointed, deadpan look.

"Let's be real here: the only reason you don't look like a walking laundry disaster right now is because your face is doing all the heavy lifting. Your gear is just as mismatched as mine, but you're so distractingly attractive that the clothes are basically irrelevant. Which, if you think about it, is a pretty stinging indictment of your current wardrobe." I expected her to snap at me or maybe try to incinerate my boots, but instead, she just stood there and let out a slow, triumphant smirk.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. She looked entirely too pleased with the fact that I'd basically just admitted she was gorgeous, even if I'd framed it as a complaint about her fashion choices.

"Goodness, most commoners would be far too flustered to utter such a bold sentiment directly to my face," she mused, her voice dripping with a newfound sense of amusement.

"You truly are a peculiar specimen of strange, aren't you, Arthur? I find your lack of a filter almost... refreshing." While I was busy regretting my life choices and June was busy basking in the glow of her own ego, Dimitri decided it was time for some more aggressive encouragement. He marched forward, his heavy iron cuffed boots clanging against the stone plaza like a falling piano, and placed a massive, leather wrapped hand on Fiona's shoulder. The poor girl nearly tipped over under the weight of his positivity.

"My heart is brimming with joy to meet you!" he boomed, his thick Russian accent turning the city square into a cathedral of motivation.

"I can see it in your eyes, my dear Fiona! You are filled to the very brim with a magnificent fighting spirit that shall light our way through the darkness!" Fiona looked up at him, her green eyes wide and her curly hair swaying as she offered a polite, albeit confused, smile. I just leaned back against a nearby pillar and shook my head.

"You know, Dimitri," I said, watching the mountain of a man radiate pure sunshine at a girl who looked like she was about to be crushed by a hug, "I am really starting to suspect that you just say that to everyone. I'm pretty sure you'd tell a rock it has a magnificent fighting spirit if it tripped you on the way to the market." Dimitri didn't waste another second. He loomed over Fiona like a benevolent, iron-plated mountain, his face practically leaking pure, unadulterated hope.

He reached out and took her hand with the kind of gentle reverence usually reserved for handling a holy relic or a very fragile sandwich.

"My wonderful friend Fiona, the stars have aligned to bring your light into our circle!" he rumbled, his thick Russian accent making the offer sound like a declaration of universal peace.

"I am officially extending an invitation for you to join our glorious fellowship. Together, we shall ascend the treacherous heights of the dungeon, weaving our destinies together as we claim the honor that awaits us! Tell me, what say you to this grand adventure?" Fiona didn't hesitate. A smile broke across her face that was so bright it probably could have been seen from the moon, and she nodded her head with enough enthusiasm to make her hip length curls dance like a nest of hyperactive snakes.

Right as her head bobbed, that familiar, deadpan lady robot voice chimed in to make things official. [The entity designated as Fiona has been successfully integrated into your active party. Group experience sharing and cooperative status effects are now authorized.] Dimitri let out a roar of triumph that likely rattled the teeth of every person in the plaza. I couldn't help it; the guy's energy was infectious, even if it was technically a safety hazard.

I stepped up and we slammed our hands together in a thunderous, victory-seal fist bump that echoed off the surrounding stone buildings. June, meanwhile, just stood off to the side, looking like she had been forced to witness a particularly embarrassing public display of affection. She let out a long, weary sigh and closed her eyes, clearly praying for a swift and painless end to her social dignity. Dimitri wasn't finished, though.

He threw his massive, leather wrapped arms into the air, striking a pose of such intense celebration that he looked like a statue dedicated to the concept of winning. He started laughing, a deep, belly shaking sound that harmonized perfectly with the clatter of his iron cuffs. We were being so incredibly loud and obnoxious that the acoustic band actually faltered in their song.

Every single person in the plaza, from the cabbage merchants to the lounging adventurers, stopped what they were doing to stare at the two idiots and the princess who was desperately trying to pretend she didn't know us.