Not How it Works here

Tia tipped the paper cone and let the last bread prism tumble into her palm.
It was cold by now, edges gone soft, but she still popped it into her mouth and chewed with all the reverence of a condemned prisoner’s last meal.
Below them, the market rolled on – bright roofs, shouting vendors, the smell of sizzling oil and sweet fruit drifting upward.

Rika stretched with a lazy flick of her tail. “Well. That’s breakfast.”

“Lunch,” Vesh corrected. “We’ve crossed the noon.”

Corin was halfway through agreeing when his expression froze. “Uh… weren’t we supposed to–”

They all turned as one.

Two terraces down, standing by Kethra with his arms folded, was Balthan. Even from this height, they could see the flat, unimpressed expression.
He spotted them instantly, raised one arm, and pointed upward in a slow, deliberate arc that said everything his voice couldn’t.

“...Oops,” Tia muttered around her last mouthful.

“Smooth,” Rika said, smirking as they began the slow trudge down.

Vesh didn’t hurry. “In fairness, we were technically gathering supplies.”

“That excuse is only going to work if we hand him something,” Corin replied.

Tia dug in her empty paper cone. “I have crumbs?”

They wound their way down through the terraces. Balthan stood exactly where they’d left him that morning, next to Kethra, looking like a man who had been imagining this reunion for quite some time.
His eyes flicked over the group, counting heads, lingering just long enough to make Tia feel like a child caught sneaking in past curfew.

Before he could open his mouth, she clapped her hands once.

“Sooo – how’d it go? Your thing. The important mysterious errand?”

He blinked at her. “…You’re late.”

“Yes, but how did it go?” she pressed, leaning in as though sheer enthusiasm might make him forget the question of time.

Balthan exhaled slowly, “Fine. Got what we needed. Two and a half crests.”

Tia beamed, as if she’d been vindicated. “See? Everyone’s winning.”

“That’s.. Plenty. I thought you just sold one bundle?” Vesh asked.

“I did,” Balthan replied. “Rock Thistle isn’t common here. Pays good.”

Rika stretched her arms overhead. “Alright. Market’s done, Balthan’s done–let’s find a roof before we melt into the street.”

Vesh nodded. “I know a place. Good rooms, decent food. And the owner–” he hesitated, flicking his tail once, “–might be… an old acquaintance.”

“Acquaintance,” Corin echoed, grinning. “So, family?”

Vesh’s mouth corner twitched. “Not exactly. Just… someone who’s known me… a long time.”

They left the market behind, the smell of spiced oil and grilled meat fading into the sun-warmed scent of stone. The terraces here were broader, with low walls that let the afternoon light spill freely. Merchants still called out half-heartedly from their stalls, but the noise thinned as they climbed.

Ten minutes of winding streets brought them to an even quieter middle-tier terrace. Here, the buildings leaned a little closer together, their dragon-scale roofs casting cool shade over the cobbles.

Where the terrace bent toward the outer wall sat the tavern, its sign a weathered board painted with a curling sea serpent: The Dozing Serpent.
Its windows glowed warm amber from within, and the faint thrum of voices drifted out along with the slow, rich scent of stewing meat and old wood.

The moment they stepped inside, a stout, middle-aged lizardfolk woman looked up from behind the bar – and her eyes lit like she’d just spotted a runaway pet.

“Veshka!” she called, her voice booming over the clatter of mugs. “By the sands, you haven’t grown an inch!”

Vesh froze. “It’s… Vesh now.”

She came around the counter and seized him by the shoulders, looking him up and down with a wide, teasing grin. “Still all elbows and pride.”

Rika made a strangled sound that might have been laughter.

“Can we not reminisce in front of my friends?” Vesh muttered, trying to edge toward the stairs.

“Your friends can hear plenty more stories while I get you your rooms,” she said, steering him toward the bar like she’d never heard of dignity.

The innkeeper – apparently named Maressa – ushered them to the bar, still half-holding Vesh by the shoulder. “Five beds, all in one room? Or am I breaking you up?”
“One’s fine,” Rika said before anyone else could answer. “Cheaper that way.”
Tia gave a sage nod. “And more fun.”
Corin shrugged, but his eyes slid toward Rika in the way someone checks the sky for rain – casual, but not casual.
“Done,” Maressa said, already reaching for keys. “Two flights up, corner room. Views of the wall if you lean far enough out.”

Vesh pried himself free just in time to point toward the side door. “Kethra and the cart–”
“I’ve got a stall open,” Maressa said, waving him off. “You’ll owe me a drink for it.”
“That… is fair,” he admitted.

They followed her up narrow stairs that creaked in complaint. The room was plain but clean. Five narrow beds under sloped beams, a single window spilling gold across the floorboards. Tia dropped herself onto the nearest bed with the satisfaction of a cat claiming a sunny spot. Balthan took the one by the door, Rika the one by the window. Corin, with a masterful display of coincidence, picked the bed beside hers.

“Settle in,” Maressa said from the doorway. “Kitchen’s open until the lights’re out.”
When she was gone, they lingered a moment in the warm hush, the weight of travel easing from their shoulders.

Maressa eventually released Vesh from her grip with a satisfied pat between the shoulders, and the group trailed after her through the taproom.

The place was busy enough for a steady hum of conversation, but not loud – a comfortable mid-afternoon lull before the real crowd arrived.

She led them back down, now into another corner next to the kitchen. “Again, all sleeping rooms are upstairs. The stables are through the side yard – Balthan, you’ll want to get that beast settled before the sun drops. Old Ren keeps the stalls clean, but he’s fussy about paperwork.”

Balthan gave a curt nod. “Tia, with me.”

Tia perked up. “Me? Sure.” She shot a look over her shoulder at Rika, who was already leaning on the railing like she’d been waiting for the chance to relax. “Save me a seat at dinner!”

They slipped out, down a narrow staircase to said side yard, where the smell of sun-warmed stone gave way to hay and oiled leather.
The stable was tucked into the tavern’s shadow, the air cool despite the heat outside. Kethra stood in front of one of the stalls. Someone had already unbound her from their cart and led her in here.
Her head perked up, tongue tasting the air as soon as she spotted them.

“There she is,” Tia cheered, stepping forward. Kethra let out a low, rumbling breath as Tia pressed her palm to the smooth line of her neck. The big Sska’veth’s hide was warm and faintly dusty, her eyes half-lidded under Tia’s slow strokes.

Balthan busied himself checking the feed bin, the water trough, the latch on the stall door – all with the meticulous air of someone pretending not to be doting.

“She’ll be fine here. Shade all day, open run in the back, no need to worry.”

“You care for her a lot,” Tia said.

“Every town,” he replied without looking up. “Every time, it’s a little different. But you make sure she knows this is safe, and she won’t test the fence.”

Tia grinned and leaned into Kethra’s shoulder. “Hear that? Five-star accommodations.” Kethra huffed, warm breath against her hair.

For a moment, the two of them just stood there, Tia’s hand moving in slow circles while Balthan adjusted the hay. The stable smelled of straw and the faint musk of animals, the noise of the tavern reduced to a distant, muffled murmur. It was… peaceful.

Balthan finally stepped back. “Alright. Let’s eat before Rika steals the best of the meat.”

Returning, they found the others already claiming a round table near the back corner. Plates and bowls were arriving under Maressa’s supervision, her tail swaying like she was pleased to be feeding an army.

“House stew for everyone,” she announced, plunking down the steaming bowls, “and a plate of cheese chunks and flatbread on the side – because I remember you, Vesh, and you never could pace yourself.”

Rika’s smirk sharpened. “Oh, you remember him, huh?”

Tia, sliding into the seat between Rika and Balthan, leaned forward like a conspirator. “Yes, tell us everything, Maressa.”

Vesh closed his eyes in visible suffering. “Maressa, please–”

But Maressa only grinned wider. “Oh, I’ve got years of stories. Like the time he came home proudly with his first deal’s money, clearly drunk or the time he–”

“That’s enough,” Vesh cut in, voice smooth but with a fraying edge.

Rika and Tia traded a look that said they would be mining Maressa for information later. Corin just looked like he was trying not to laugh into his stew.

“Oh, haha, no worries,” Maressa laughed. “I was just teasin’. Enjoy your meal~”

They ate for a few minutes in relative peace – or what passed for it, given the occasional sidelong jab in Vesh’s direction.

Between mouthfuls of stew and bread, Tia let her gaze wander around the table.

Balthan hadn’t said a word; he sat with the bowl cupped in one broad hand, sipping slowly, eyes narrowing in brief, thoughtful flickers. He wasn’t just eating the stew – he was dissecting it, running each mouthful past some internal checklist. Now and then, his jaw shifted like he’d found a flaw only he could taste, the kind that would have him muttering about “too much salt” or “needed another hour on the simmer” if anyone asked.

Tia scooped the last bit of stew from her bowl, only to pause mid-chew as she noticed Corin across the table.

While the rest of them ate like normal people – spoon in one hand, bread in the other, the occasional drip caught on a sleeve – Corin sat with the kind of posture you’d expect at a formal banquet. Back straight, elbows tucked, every cut of meat sectioned into polite, uniform bites. Even his silverware was laid neatly to the side between mouthfuls, not just abandoned at a lazy angle like everyone else’s.

Tia chuckled as she teased, “C’mon Corin, this is no fancy nobleman’s dinner, you can relax~ ’Cause that right there–” she waved her bread at him “looks like someone’s been trained to impress dinner guests.”

Corin blinked, spoon halfway to his mouth. “It’s just… habit. My mother was… she made sure I wouldn’t embarrass myself at a big city’s table... Yeah… she was quite.. particular.”

“Particular about what? Fork angles?”

He cleared his throat, focusing very hard on his stew. “It’s nothing.”

“Mm-hm.” Tia grinned but let him off the hook, swallowing her last bite of bread before pointing her spoon. “Right, I have a question. You picked Corin up from some village, me from the middle of nowhere. How did y’all end up traveling together?”

Three pairs of eyes shifted to her. Silence.

Vesh arched a brow. “Why?”

“Because you’re all completely different types of people,” she said matter-of-factly. “And yet, here you are.”

Balthan set his empty bowl down with a quiet clink and leaned back, arms crossing over his chest. “Since you’re asking… Started with me.”

Rika gave him a side-eye. “Of course it did.”

He ignored her. “I’d sold my house. Packed up what I had, bought a cart, and figured I’d try my hand as a wandering merchant. Nothing fancy – set up in my home city, a trading hub, sold what I could find. Some days in the market, some days in the woods looking for things worth selling. Meals were… well, whatever I could cook over a campfire.”

“Which is to say – barely edible,” Vesh murmured without looking up.

Balthan’s mouth twitched. “Manageable. Enough to keep me alive.” He took a slow sip of his drink.

“Then I saw her. Kethra. Something in her eyes told me she wanted to see more in her life than a market pen. She wasn’t in good condition. I bought her, figured I’d have a proper beast for the cart. Took me weeks to get her to pull it without stopping halfway to glare at me.”

“That’s where I came in,” Vesh said, sitting straighter. “He needed someone who understood her – lizard to lizard. And since I was in the city at the time doing my own research…” His tail flicked.

“Cool~ I kinda expected you, Vesh, brought Kethra along. Interesting,” Tia added.

“It was supposed to be a short arrangement. Help him with Kethra, get her trained, then go back to my work. But…”

“But you stayed,” Rika finished for him.

“We found a rhythm,” Vesh admitted. “The road was… quieter than the city. And Balthan makes a surprisingly steady travel companion.”

Rika leaned her elbows on the table. “And then, of course, you couldn’t resist picking me up.”
Balthan continued. “We were passing a caravan on the road. Big one, but the tension was thick enough to choke on.”
“It wasn’t thick,” Rika corrected. “It was poisonous. Our leader was making terrible calls, people started leaving in groups, and when a fight finally broke out…” She shrugged one shoulder.
“When the fight broke out… that was it. Caravan was gone in a day after years upon years of staying together. I had no one left to travel with.. Balthan and Vesh found me on the side of the road.”
“We didn’t find you,” Balthan said dryly. “You came straight up to us and started talking as if we’d already agreed.”
Rika’s grin was unapologetic. “And here I am.”

“And Corin?” Tia asked, glancing between them.

Corin’s eyes flickered at the mention of his name.

Balthan’s voice softened, though just barely. “A few years later, we found him in a city below the wyrm’s hip. Just a boy, asking anyone who would listen to take him to Ssarradon. No coin, no plan, but…”
“You looked like you needed a hand,” Vesh finished.
“I needed more than a hand,” Corin admitted, faintly embarrassed. “But you took me in.”

Tia rested her chin on her palm, her mouth tugging upward. “So that’s the big story. A merchant, a scholar, a stray from a broken caravan, and… a little boy.” She flicked her eyes at Corin.
“I’m not just a–” he began, but Rika’s laugh cut him off.

The table’s chatter softened, bowls scraped clean, mugs drained to their last bitter dregs. The tavern’s hum grew louder around them as new voices filled the hall, merchants trickling in from the evening heat, and soon the tang of spilled ale joined the air.
Balthan stacked the bowls with neat, deliberate precision – like order itself was a shield against chaos.

When they finally pushed back from the table, Maressa was waiting near the stairs with a cloth slung over one shoulder, eyes twinkling like she’d been listening the whole time.
“Still brooding, Veshka?” she said, too sweetly.
Vesh’s tail flicked hard. “It’s Vesh. And I wasn’t–”
“Mm-hm. Your friends don’t seem to mind you sulking.” She ruffled the side of his frill before he could dodge. “Rest well, all of you. First night’s the sweetest.”
Her laughter followed them up the stairwell, light as the lanterns swaying overhead.

Their room was broad but plain, just as they had left it. The shutters cracked open to let the evening breeze in. The air smelled faintly of oiled wood and the stew they’d just eaten, clinging to their clothes.

Balthan sat heavily on the pallet without ceremony, folding his arms. “Well. Errand’s done. We’ve coin. I don’t see much reason to linger.”
“Of course you don’t,” Rika muttered, tugging off her boots. “You’d rather be halfway down the next road already.”
“I don’t like cities,” he said flatly. “Too many people. Too much noise. Can’t hear yourself think.”
Vesh leaned back against the windowframe, “ha, that’s not the only reaso–” then he froze. The air seemed to thin. Balthan’s glare wasn’t loud, but it carried almost murderous intent. Silence pressed close. Even Tia didn’t joke.

She saw the puzzled looks on Corin’s and Rika’s faces, and thought:
Better not dig deeper… heh, or else you’ll anger the Wyrmspine mountains.

“...Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way..,” Vesh said, his voice small now, almost defeated.

Tia clapped her hands together, the way you’d cheer up a sulky child, “Aaanyways~”

Vesh looked out the window, the last streaks of sunset faded over the terrace roofs. Then he said, “We should stay at least a while. This is a center of knowledge, of trade. There’s much here to be studied–”
“And bargained for,” Rika added with a lazy grin.
“–before we disappear back into the hills,” Vesh finished, ignoring her.

Balthan’s expression didn’t shift, but he didn’t argue either.

Tia plopped onto her earlier claimed bed, the frame squeaking under her bounce. “I like it here,” she declared. “It’s noisy, but it’s the fun kind of noisy. People from everywhere. Food from everywhere. I could just… watch all day and not get bored.”
Corin lingered by the door, frowning faintly. “We didn’t come here just to watch.”
“No,” Balthan agreed. “We also came here for you.”

That made the boy freeze. For a moment he looked older, shoulders stiff, jaw working as though he was chewing on something he couldn’t swallow. “…I know.”
Tia rolled onto her side, chin propped in her hand. “That’s the royal knight thing, right? Fancy armor, oaths, drills from dawn ‘til your arms fall off?”
Corin gave a crooked, humorless smile. “Something like that.”
“And that’s what you want?” she asked. Corin didn’t answer. His silence hung heavy, more honest than words could be.

Rika swung her legs onto the bed, pointing her toe at him. “He wants books and spells. I’ve seen the way his eyes light up whenever Vesh starts muttering formulas. Or well– when he was asking me to teach him,” she chuckled.
Corin flushed, which said everything more loudly than words could.

“Then do that,” Tia said simply. “If you want magic, learn magic.”
“It’s not that easy,” he protested, voice tight. “My father sent me here for a purpose. People are expecting–”
“People expect all sorts of boring things,” Tia cut in, waving a hand. “Doesn’t mean you have to live your whole life on their script.”

The room fell quiet, the weight of her words pressing against the walls.

They all looked at her, again like she’d just proposed setting this room on fire.

Tia broke the silence on her own. “There are ateliers here. Mage workshops. Vesh told all about those other terraces, right?”
Her head jerked toward Corin, startled.
“If you wish to learn, this city has the means,” she continued calmly. “It’d be stupid to waste this.”

Corin stuttered, “B-but, that’s not how things wor–”, Tia interrupted.
“No buts! Tomorrow Imma drag you to a wizard’s shop. We’ll get you a robe, a stack of grimoires, and one of those fancy pointy hats! You’ll be shootin’ sparks before lunch!"

…

Tia grinned and sat upright, eyes shining. “No further objections? Then it’s settled!”

Corin opened his mouth, shut it again. His hands tightened on the bedsheets beneath him.

Rika sighed. “Tia… it doesn’t work like that.”

“Sure it does,” Tia insisted, grinning. “You find the right shop, slam some coins down, start learning. That’s how things start.”

Vesh shook his head, slow and heavy. “No. Not here. Not anywhere. You don’t simply choose.”

“What do you mean ‘don’t choose’? Of course you do. You wake up one day and–”

“Not here,” Balthan cut in, voice flat as ever. “You are what your ID says you are. Corin’s is written. Royal Knight. End of story.”

Tia blinked, baffled. “That’s ridiculous. A little ID card says you can’t? What if he doesn’t want to?”

“Then he would be cast out,” Vesh said, his tail dragging sharp lines against the floor. “Branded blasphemous. Doors barred. No guild, no food, no trust.”

The words fell like stones.

Tia sat upright. “That’s insane! Back home, if you’re good enough, if you try hard enough, you can be anything. If anything the hardest part is to choose what you want.”

Rika tilted her toward Corin. “You ought to be grateful, you know. Third Circle. That’s as high as they come. People would kill for that kind of destiny.”

“Exactly,” Vesh said, with a faint dip of his frill. “Third Circle means there’s no doubt. No wiggle-room. Your path is laid clear.”

“Which is just another way of saying locked,” Corin muttered.

Tia sat up straighter. “That’s–come on. That’s not how life works. If he wants magic, he should do magic. Why shouldn’t he?”

Balthan set his arms on his knees, voice low but steady. “Because that isn’t the way here. I’ve never been to one single place where things are different, Tia. Wherever you’re from, it doesn’t matter. It’s not how things work here.”

The words hit her harder than she’d admit. For a breath too long she forgot to blink, afraid her face might give something away. She chewed the inside of her cheek, clamping her answer down to silence.

Corin shifted uncomfortably under all the stares. “Prestigious doesn’t mean wanted,” he said at last. “It means the opposite. It means I don’t get to choose.”

Finally Tia jabbed her finger toward Corin again, stubborn as ever. “I don’t care. Maybe your rules say no. But tomorrow, after I’ve got my own ID in hand, I’m dragging him to a wizard’s shop anyway.”

She tried to laugh, quick and reckless – but it sounded hollow even to her.

Rika groaned, flopping back on the bed. “Spirits, she’s serious.”

“Dangerously so,” Vesh muttered.

“No buts!” Tia said quickly, too quickly. Her smile felt tight at the corners. “Just watch. He’ll thank me later.”

The silence that followed wasn’t the approving kind. It was the kind that made her ears burn, that told her she was standing alone on an island no one else wanted to swim to.

At last Rika pushed herself upright again, forcing a grin. “Well, I for one vote we drop this before someone bursts a vein. How about dice? Cards? I could use an easy win before bed.”

The mood bent, but didn’t quite break. They traded half-hearted chuckles, the kind that sounded more like surrender than mirth.

And when the lanterns burned lower and they each claimed their corners of the room, Tia lay on her side with her back to them, mouth set in a hard little line. The others were wrong. She knew they were wrong.

Yet as the tavern’s noise dulled through the shutters, her chest ached with the tiniest doubt. Maybe this was just how things worked here. Maybe she was the one out of step. Wasn’t she the one who wished for a world where people wouldn’t have to choose their own jobs?

Still, she wished they could understand her better.