Celebratory Sitdown

I once again found myself at Mitriv’s Mimic Café, where our group had quickly become regulars. And not just first-name-basis customers, either, but the ones where the baristas began mixing our usuals the moment we walked through the door. Even our living booth fluffed up its pillows as we approached, eagerly awaiting the familiar feel of our bodies.

The triop appeared to be overjoyed with the familiarity, which was great for them. Meanwhile, my overactive imagination nibbled at the back of my mind, reminding me that constantly returning to the same location made us predictable. But now wasn’t the time to harp on that, because we were celebrating our several successes.

Better kick this thing off right. I thought as the barista brought over our mid-afternoon favourites.

“I want to start by congratulating the three of you,” I hoisted my spiked espresso into the air, “You all really pulled it together over this last month. Not a single grade below eighty. Your movements are so synchronized it's scary. And we’ve stomped about every upperclassman that has come to put us down! To the Misfits of Al’Magi!”

“Still don’t like that moniker.” Rionriv bemoaned, lifting her bright pink cocktail to meet mine.

Aesandoral quickly raised a stein full of a thick golden mead. She licked her lips in embarrassment as she had already begun her indulgence before I started speaking.

Sharzin followed the trend, hoisting an equally curious glass that was split into two distinct colours. A few weeks ago, I recommended the Dark’N’Stormy to our group's little Dark’N’Stealthy. And, so far, she hadn’t gotten enough of it.

Our glasses collided with a satisfying clink.

After a big swig of the alcoholic cold-brew, I responded, “What about Ishara’s Angels?”

“Mmmhmm—not better,” Sharzin said, emerging from her glass. “Think again.”

“Yeah, I actively hate that one.” Rionriv also added.

“Okay, we’ll workshop it.”

We spent a good hour resting, drinking, and enjoying ourselves, all the while chatting about classes, training, and student gossip. Most of which was typical school gossip, like how the cheerleading triop of mean girls known as ‘The Jessicas’ had been extra hard on one of the underclassmen coeds because of suspected romantic jealousy.

My ears perked up as Aesandoral and Rionriv whispered about some rumblings around odd things happening in certain administration buildings at night. Strange sights and sounds, which I knew could be in reference to the extra-curricular work I’d been sending Sharzin out to do.

One rumour that had caught my attention was that DJ Demilich had closed her 125-year-old Dwindlefyre club to begin touring the world with her two brothers and another triop of strange characters.

Of course, I already knew of this because it was a significant plot point that we would be using to our advantage in just a few short weeks.

“It’s funny you bring that up,” I spoke up at this point.

Ah, yeah, that’s a smooth segue.

“Do you know why they’re really on tour?”

“Because a hundred years in Dwindlefyre must be pretty boring?” Rionriv chirped in reply

Damn! That’s literally why Deborah-Jo left.

“No!” I blurted out in a failed attempt to save face. “Phyllis hired them to set up her ‘Magosdromes’ in every major city, continentwide.”

“Magosdromes?” Aesandoral asked while unconsciously scratching the side of her glass.

A toothy grin appeared across the opaque bottom of the container, which began panting like a dog. I eyed this for a moment, slightly weirded out, before continuing.

“Yeah, they’re essentially teleportation circles that will link the capital cities of each region with Phyllis’ shoppe in Dwindlefyre—a literal international airport with duty-free shopping!”

Rionriv rolled her eyes, “There you go, speaking nonsense again.”

“Wait, we can return to Goodshore without taking a boat?” Aesandoral placed her mug down. “Like, instantly travel there?”

“I mean, eventually, yeah. But I don’t think the Goodshore Magosdrome will open until the Summer Solstice or the month before.”

Aesandoral released a relieved sigh at this information, so I took the opportunity to poke.

“Why do you ask? You want to go home that badly?”

“The opposite.” She mumbled, sinking into her seat. “Sure, I miss home, but Mama has been wanting me to stop by so we can begin talking about my post-school betrothal. So far, I’ve dodged it because that’s a month’s travel by boat one way.”

She took a gulp of her drink before releasing an expressive sigh. “And no thanks to any of it!”

“If your mom’s who I think she is, she could just teleport here and take you at any time. You realize that, right?”

Aesandoral looked down into her drink and became quiet. Guilt washed over her face as she realized something before muttering into her mug words of agreement.

“Maybe the conversation won’t be bad?” I reassured her, feeling my own guilt set in for dampening the mood. “Anyways, so about these magosdromes—”

Oufah—not a good segue. Oh well, already said it. Roll with it.

“The plan is to take the portal to Ter’aquit after finals for our Solstice Dungeon Dive.”

“What?!” All three of them responded anxiously.

Rionriv spoke up, “B-But Winter Solstice quests are usually held on campus due to—”

“Travel constraints, well, not anymore.” I replied, “We will be one of two groups doing our Solstice quest abroad this year.”

“Do you think we’re ready?” Sharzin asked, gently placing her empty drink on the table.

“You’ll definitely be ready, one hundred percent. Anyways, we’ll be diving into Talir’sahn’s Eastern Operating Base and clearing it of bandits and monsters alike. There’ll be plenty of loot to fill our bags, lots of antique equipment that we can exchange for favours, and, best of all, a horde of gold and gems at the lowest level guarded by a dragon.”

“A what?!” All three shouted, drawing the attention of the two other people in the café.

After quieting them down and ordering another round of drinks, I went over the basics.