Wulf stopped paying attention to the conversation almost as soon as he scooped food onto his plate. He took a sample of each dish, then tested them all to see which one he liked the most.

  Breaded and fried chicken had to be his favourite. It probably wasn’t authentic, but that didn’t change the fact that it was nearly perfect. Crispy coating, flaky interior, with stringy cheese broiled on top.

  But it also turned out that this new body was a bottomless pit, especially today, with this being later than his regular mealtime, and now living such an active life. He was somewhat worried he’d have to sit back and let Seith and Irmond do most of the work, but that was far from the case.

  In his past life, as he got old, he’d simply lost his appetite. Didn’t help that most meals were bland military fare.

  “Wulf?” Kalee asked, her voice a little louder than usual. It snapped him out of his trance.

  He winced. She’d probably called him more than once, hadn’t she.

  Snapping to attention, he looked up at the others. “Yes?”

  “Irmond just wanted to know…well, where in Carolaign you came from,” she provided.

  “Oh. Sorry.” Wulf cleared his throat. “Got a little distracted.”

  “That’s sure enough,” Irmond said with a grin. “Well, then. Out with it!”

  “The village was called Ethoril,” Wulf replied. “A small farming hub, about two hundred people. Basically, we all had our fields that we tended to and handled, and some farmhouses scattered about, but not everyone could be farmers, and we needed a little village to handle it all.”

  “What was your family?” Seith asked. “Head of a farmers’ guild? Some sort of nobility in the region?”

  Wulf shook his head. “What, you don’t remember the Fletchers calling me lowborn?”

  Looking down with shame, Seith sighed.

  “Sorry,” Wulf replied. “Didn’t really mean it that harshly. But no, we were just average farmers. Average income, average plot of land. It wasn’t abject poverty, but most of the shopkeepers and store clerks here are better off than we were. The villagers all pooled their funds to send me here.”

  “Ever see an Oronith before coming here?” Irmond asked.

  “Ye—eh, not really,” Wulf said, catching himself. He had to think of his past life, which still felt like it was four decades ago. “I’d seen a few loader golems pass through the area, but nothing like an Oronith.” That, even, was a stretch. There hadn’t been any loader golems in his area of Carolaign, because there were no Ascendants to operate them.

  “I wish I could see the look on your face when you first saw an Oronith,” Seith said. “Might make you a little less scary.”

  “Are you scared of me?”

  “Well…”

  “Alright,” Wulf said. “How do I make you less scared of me?”

  “Seeing you pile food on your plate and get completely lost in it is helping.” Seith chuckled.

  “Well, I can keep doing it, but you guys tried to make me talk about myself. Not my strong suit.” Wulf picked up a fork and plunged it back into a pile of pasta, then scooped up a chunk and shovelled it in his mouth.

  “Did no one ever teach you to eat pasta properly?” Irmond asked. “At least, like, with a little etiquette?”

  “What’s wrong with what I just did?”

  “You’re supposed to wind it around the fork,” Irmond said. “That way, you just get a bundle of noodles in your mouth without having to slurp up the rest.”

  “Oh.” Wulf shrugged. “That sounds like a lot of effort, though.”

  “Says the guy who’s already made it to High-Wood.”

  “So has Umoch.” Wulf had to admit, he didn’t really think much of it. In fact, he had catching up to do. “In fact, Umoch’s probably made it to Middle-Coal by now.”

  “Yeah, but like, he has guild backing and is the kid of probably the wealthiest guy in the world,” Irmond said.

  “I’d bet they helped him get a few Marks before sending him off to the academy,” Seith added. “And being a Mage, they probably found a few monsters in one of their private hunting ranges for him to kill and give him a head start.”

  “We shouldn’t underestimate him, still,” Kalee said. “Given what Wulf’s arrangement is, we still need to catch up with him.”

  Wulf sighed. “Guys, not to break the mood, but don’t you want to…not think about that for a little bit? Just enjoy what you can while you’ve got a chance?” He knew it came out a little…weaker than he intended, but it didn’t mean it was wrong. They were supposed to be enjoying themselves, not thinking about the future—that could come later. Besides, if they were going to work together to crew an Oronith, they’d need to be a team. They couldn’t be a team if they only talked business.

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  Kalee nodded. “He’s right.” She turned to Irmond. “You don’t seem the type to know etiquette.”

  “Well, I’m not like…a stickler,” Irmond said. His ears drooped slightly. “But there are some things that I was drilled on. I dunno, I kinda just thought Wulf would know those sorts of things, and found it pretty amusing when he didn’t.”

  “You still didn’t strike as one to care, either,” Wulf echoed Kalee.

  "Well, I think I've had a lifetime of etiquette," Irmond said. "Don't say this, don't do that…so many things to stop doing. Don't say 'like' or stammer...well I'll say 'like' if I please. You guys know what I mean."

  "So...where are you from?" Wulf asked. "And I figure you're nobility?"

  "Yeah. First son of Lord Redleaf. The Autumn Forest county of Iklien."

  "Never heard of him," Seith said.

  Wulf hadn't heard of Redleaf either, but he figured he wouldn't have. He wasn't exactly up on who was who across the whole of the Confederacy, but where most people would at least have some knowledge of the major Ascendant Lords—Ascendants who took charge of certain counties, before reporting to their respective government heads, who in turn reported to the King of the Confederacy—Wulf just didn't care enough about how the kingdom was governed.

  "We're comparatively small," Irmond said. "But father has high expectations for me. I'm supposed to be the one who goes forward and brings our family to the big leagues. Says he's done most of the work, and that's true enough, but I'm not sure if I want it."

  Wulf bit his tongue, but he was pretty sure there were millions of people who'd trade places with Irmond, to have that kind of birth-luck. Still, to be young meant being rebellious, and truly, Wulf didn't know what Irmond's family life was like.

  "Come to think of it," Seith said, "I haven't heard of any important nobles from Iklien." She offered a playful smirk.

  "Yeah, laugh it up. We elves are insular. I haven't heard of skyhorn nobility either."

  "That's because you're uneducated, not because we’re not important.”

  “Wulf, back me up,” Irmond begged.

  “I’m uneducated too,” he provided. “Though I admit it.”

  “I’m not.” Irmond shook his head, then picked up a buttered bun from the center of the table and bit into it. “Kalee?”

  “Ah, speaking with your mouth full,” she teased. “How scandalous.”

  “Yeah, now your answer?”

  “Sadly, I have to admit, I’m much like Wulf. I grew up in a rural village, amidst the terraced rainforests of Threnia. We were ant-ranchers. Not highborn, either. I’m not a great one to ask about the noble families and various lords of the Confederacy.”

  “And why’d no one go after you, then?” Irmond complained. He leaned back in his seat.

  “Because I don’t make it obvious, and no one knows enough about Pangians to care. And yeah, there were a few mutterings about it in the girls’ dorms, but no one said anything to my face once I started beating up the Perfumers.”

  Wulf, Irmond, and Seith all shared a glance. “Yeah, they’re probably talking behind your back, though,” Seith said. “What? I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking. Don’t kill the messenger, all that.”

  Kalee looked down. “Are they really?”

  “I don’t know. People don’t gossip with me,” Seith said. “They know that I’m not good at keeping secrets.”

  “Alright, then, out with it,” Irmond complained. “The three of us are useless, but who’s your family?”

  “The Telgrads,” she provided. “A group of stone-aspect Ascendants from the White Mountains—that’s a few leagues north of here, and much farther west—who got rich mining deepstone, bought themselves a lordship and a seat in the Grand Council, and now, hunt mountain giants for Oronith bases. I’m the youngest of ten children, and…I suppose Langold spoiled it, but the only Artificer in the family.”

  “They sent their only Artificer to the Istalis Academy?” Wulf asked. “Couldn’t get you to the main branch?”

  “Didn’t want me at the main branch,” Seith said. “It ‘ruined their image’ or something, what with them nearly having a perfect Pilot bloodline.”

  “A bunch of Oronith makers wouldn’t want an Artificer?” Kalee tilted her head.

  “Not when Artificer is traditionally the role of indentured servants and slaves in Skyhorn society.” She shook her head. “Looks bad. Never mind the fact that I was the youngest, and they were aiming for nine. Nine having something special to do with the Field and its numerology obsession.”

  “The Fieldfather absorbed mana for nine years before finally activating the Field,” Kalee provided.

  “Yeah, that,” Seith muttered. “So being the tenth kinda screwed up their plans. Never fit in with them, always got shunned and left out of things. It certainly wasn’t a peasant’s life, but frustrating nonetheless. And when the Fletchers offered me a place to fit in, where I could earn respect through strength…”

  “Of course you jumped at the prospect,” Irmond replied. “Hey, now, you didn’t ever hit me directly, so we’re good.”

  “You were too damn slippery and fast,” she grumbled back.

  “I am indeed perfect ranger material!” Irmond proclaimed with a massive grin. “See, even Seith agrees. Nothing will stop me from running free!”

  “Yeah, I didn’t go that far,” Seith said.

  “We’ll be free,” Wulf continued, “when we finally get in an Oronith. Until then?”

  “Until then I get to keep moping?” Irmond asked jokingly.

  “You’re absolutely not the definition of mopey,” Kalee stated. “That award goes to Wulf.”

  This time, he just accepted it. “Well, while you guys are busy arguing about who’s the gloomiest, I’ll be stuffing my cheeks. You know, I was kinda expecting us to run into trouble here, but…”

  “But the fletchers would actually have to visit nice places,” Seith said. “Not just taverns and pubs.”

  “Yeah. That.”

  Wulf stood his fork upright in a pile of noodles for a second, then tried the method Irmond had suggested. After a few seconds, he took a mouthful, then looked over the others. They’d fallen silent again as they continued portioning off food from the plates.

  They might not be the most perfect team—not yet—but Wulf could make it work, and that was all that mattered.