Kien, Art, and Vix didn’t have to wait long for the introductions that Arwin promised them. The inn started to wake just a few minutes after their conversation had finished. Lillia informed them that people were already heading down from their rooms and entering the common room. She, as such, had already started on breakfast — even though she hadn’t budged a foot from where she stood in the basement. “I’ve sent for Monica,” Lillia said absently. “Rodrick too.” “Why Rodrick?” Art asked suspiciously. “Because he’s an expert on this plotty-schemey shit,” Lillia replied without missing a beat. One of her hands twitched and her head tilted to the side. Her lips pursed in concentration for a moment before she continued as if nothing had happened. “And if you’re planning to ally with us, then you better accept him.” “It is not that I do not accept Rodrick,” Art said. “I respect him.” “Then what’s the problem?” Lillia asked. “The problem is that I respect him.” Arwin hid a smile. It looked like Art wasn’t much a fan of getting outmaneuvered. He supposed that he wouldn’t have been either, had he stood in the boy’s shoes. It was a tough comparison. Unfortunately for Art, Rodrick had quite a bit of experience — and an entire library of magical, forbidden knowledge — up on him. “How’d you get the fangs in there, anyway?” Vix asked curiously. “They’re so realistic! Aren’t they uncomfortable?” “I’ve bit myself a few times,” Monica admitted. “But you get used to them after a while.” “Does your tavern require all its employees to dress up as monsters?” Vix asked Lillia. “It fits the theme, don’t you think?” Lillia asked. “I suppose it does,” Vix allowed. “It’s nice to meet you, Monica. I’m Vix. This is my brother, Art. And—” “Kien,” the former hero said flatly. “I am Kien.” Monica started to nod. “Pleasure. I don’t see anybody here in the need of a thumping, so I’ll take it that you want an introduction to Raen? I’d been wondering when you were going to follow up on that. Let me guess—” “Gut a hog and call it mother,” Monica breathed. She strode forward in a blur, slamming to a stop a few feet away from Kien and crouching to be at head level with him. He didn’t so much as budge as the two of them stared at each other. Monica let out a delighted laugh. “Kien? Of the Twin Blades?” “I am just Kien. You have me mixed up.” The ragged man’s features were indecipherable. “No, I most certainly don’t.” Monica shook her head firmly. “I recognize you! Raen has a poster of you in our room. We’re huge fans. What an honor! Where are your swords? I’d love to try my hand against you! You’re not on a mission right now, are you? Is there something you’ve been sent to exterminate?” Kien was perfectly still for several long seconds. Arwin expected the slew of questions to annoy him even further. But, to his surprise, the faintest flicker of a smile graced the man’s lips. “I’m sorry to disappoint. There is no quest, and I am not Kien of the Twin Blades. Not anymore. I have to admit that this is a first for me.” “Twin Blades?” Art muttered under his breath. His features creased in a frown and he pulled his deck of cards out, rifling through them. He pulled one free. Then his eyes went wide and his gaze snapped back to Kien as he repeated himself, his tone of voice shifting to shock. “Twin Blades? You’re supposed to be dead!” “Oh no,” Monica said, her features twisting in horror. “Did you retire?” “Nothing like that,” Kien said softly. “I just never thought that one of my fans would be a monster.” “Don’t be rude,” Vix said. “The tavern has a unique idea. I think it’s cute.” “I was not being rude,” Kien said. “Monica’s bodily proportions are not human. She handles herself too gracefully for it to be prosthetics — and she moves like a trained warrior. There is no costume. Monica is an orc.” “I thought you were using that name as a pseudonym or you simply went by it to avoid using your real one,” Art said, staggering to his feet and leaning heavily against his crutch. “You’re actually Kien?” “Wait. You’re a hero?” Vix exclaimed. Her eyes darted from Kien to Monica. “And you’re a monster?” “No! This is definitely a costume,” Monica said hurriedly, sending Arwin a panicked look. “It’s fine,” Arwin said, stepping forward before the situation could devolve any further. “Monica is Monica. That’s it. If you’re going to be working with us, then you’ll be finding that there’s a whole lot more to most things than what they seem.” “So I have already seen,” Kien said. His eyes locked on Lillia. Then they sharpened. Arwin could practically see the lines connecting in the man’s head. He was intelligent — and the betrayal of the guild had shattered the basis his opinions had been built on. “Only when what you believe to be true is shattered can you witness the world for what it is,” Rodrick said softly. “Read that in a shitty, pompous book a while ago. Welcome to the Menagerie’s inner fold.” “Impossible,” Art muttered. His features were pale as he stared at a card in his hand, eyes darting from it to Monica and back again. “What does it say?” Vix asked urgently. “They’re telling the truth,” Art said, his words barely above a whisper. “Monica is an orc. A talking orc. In a maid costume.” “Why don’t you celebrate your new induction with some frivolous spending?” A new voice asked. They all turned as Esmerelda ambled into the room alongside Madiv. A massive bag clinked and rang with every step she took. She held a wicked-looking sword sheathed in obsidian aloft before her. “Anyone want to buy a sword? Only the best prices for friends of the guild.” Art, Kien, and Vix all stared at her, their shock momentarily robbed by confusion. A second of silence passed. “That’s definitely cursed,” Vix said. “No doubt about it,” Art said. “Cursed,” Kien agreed. “…only a little?” Esmerelda tried weakly. Kien squinted past her at Madiv. Then his eye twitched. “Is that… a vampire?” “What?” Madiv asked, pressing an affronted hand to his chest. “Me? No. Of course not. Does a pristine sense of style make a man a vampire?”