[Earthborn candidate #254726, Function increase level 5 cluster]

  Name: Finn Race: Human Class: Mage Subclass: None

  Level: 12 Experience Energy: 92% to next level

  Strength: 17

  Stamina: 20

  Endurance: 22

  Dexterity: 22

  Intelligence: 34

  Wisdom: 32

  Charisma: 18

  Health Points: 358 Mana Pool: 259 Mana Regen: 3.432 MP per minute

  Carry Weight: 492 lbs Potion Sensitivity: 21 (level 4)

  Survivability Index: 10.1222%

  Skills: Tracking level 10, Enchant Item level 2, Craft Spell level 2, Surge level 1, ????, ????, ????

  We found a decent campsite before sunset at a much lower altitude than the first one. Since the rocks and trees blocked the view of the main path, we agreed a fire would be nice. Jerseil and I went off into the woods to find some dry wood, as there wasn’t much near the campsite.

  “How are you doing, Finn?” Jerseil asked. He eyed me sideways as we wandered through the trees.

  I kept my eyes out for good, sheltered spots under the trees that would harbor dry fallen branches. “I’ve had better weeks,” I answered neutrally.

  “Surely you jest,” he replied, matching my tone.

  Sighing, I nodded. “Okay, yeah, I’m not good. I’m angry that he thought he could just sacrifice himself like that. I’m pissed that the bridge failed, and he fell to his death. The worst thing about it was that I couldn’t do anything to help. Well, okay, I was only able to do a little,” I said. Spying a dry spot under a tree, I knelt down to pick up the decent branches I found.

  “Yeah. I hear you. It’s hard not having the power to change things, to help people,” Jerseil said thoughtfully. “Really, understanding your limits is important, you know? My talents preclude me from fights of that magnitude, so I help in other ways. But sometimes…”

  I waited for him to continue, grabbing more dry branches. The last thing I wanted was smoke giving away our position. When he didn’t, I stopped what I was doing. “Sometimes what, Jerseil?”

  “Hmm? Oh, it doesn’t matter,” he replied, distractedly taking the wood I handed him.

  “Dude, just spit it out,” I said while scanning the area for more dry wood.

  Jerseil looked at me then. “Are you sure? It’s just a silly little dream.”

  “Buddy, there’s no such thing as a little dream. Spill,” I encouraged.

  “Ah, fine. Sometimes I wish I could do more magic. I have my bard spells, but they aren’t very offensive in nature. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a brawler and can hold my own. But if I could shoot lightning from my gittern…” He smiled. “… Now that would be glorious!”

  “There should be a spell like that. It would be awesome!” I grinned back at him, but only for a moment. “But seriously, I also want to get to the point where I can hold my own, without needing to rely on the strength of others.”

  “Isn’t that part of life, though? We rely on our parents and community for years, then on our friends and comrades. Nobody goes alone in this world. Even the Lich, with all his power he’s accrued over the years, still has people working for him and protecting his holdings,” the bard spoke contemplatively.

  I knew he was trying to blunt the pain, but all I could think about was increasing my power level. It was frustrating that it was going to take a while for me to be at the point of being the guy that could take on things like that ogre. The allure of the demon’s offer was making more sense to me. I wonder why we haven’t seen the demon yet.

  But there were other ways to get stronger. Juan had mentioned that I would find and buy better stuff. I hadn’t found any useful equipment. Which I likely would have if it wasn’t for the mercenaries making Juan take me out of the starting area before I was ready.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  I sighed and looked at the amount of branches we had gathered. “Let’s head back. Here’s hoping Harper caught something.”

  Harper had gotten four rabbits and already had a fire going when we returned. My stomach grumbled at the aroma of the fat roasting rabbits. They sizzled over the fire, juices dripping into the coals, causing them to hiss. Which was just another difference in this world; the rabbits were not as lean here as they were on Earth.

  “That smells amazing,” Jerseil said, wafting the rising steam toward his nose with his hand.”

  “Why, thank you, but don’t expect me to do all the cooking,” she said, appreciative of her handiwork.

  “Oh, I don’t. In fact, I like to cook. Preferably within an actual kitchen, but I have no problems cooking over an open fire,” Jerseil said cheerfully. He squatted next to the fire, using his hand to waft the smell from the rabbits. “Oh, you’ve seasoned them perfectly! These are going to be tasty.”

  Harper chuckled. It was a deep, throaty chuckle that I hadn’t heard from her before. “They’ll finish cooking when they finish cooking. Though some of the food stores we had on our horses would have been nice. The rabbits are all we have unless anyone wants a travel biscuit.”

  I, for one, was already sick of the things. They were hard, dry, and seemed to last forever. It was one thing if it was all you had, but come on. They sucked. The idea of adding them to dinner was not that appealing. Now, if they were fresh, fluffy, buttery, steaming buttermilk biscuits, that would be a different story. Heck, even those cookies that the British and the Australians call biscuits would be way more welcome than the hard, dry things they called biscuits here.

  Jerseil must have noticed the look on my face, and sighed. “At least we can have a decent wine with this?” He pulled a bottle out of his backpack and set it on a stump nearby. The cork came out with an audible pop, and he set the dark green bottle back down to breathe.

  Harper’s eyes widened at the bottle and she smiled. “That looks expensive,” she said.

  “Being in Supply and Support has its perks!” Jerseil said cheerfully. “I know where to get the best stuff at the best price. And sometimes, a few cases of an excellent vintage just happen to end up in my possession. A few bottles of the good stuff make red tape clear out faster than ticks on a pissed-off lava hound. And when I’m trying to get supplies to where they are needed the most, that’s wine well spent.”

  “Well, I’m glad that you had it with you. Because I could really use a good drink,” she said with a warm smile.

  Dinner was wonderful, but not fancy. We ate the rabbit and drank a few bottles of surprisingly strong wine. Jerseil entertained us with a variety of funny stories before pulling out his odd guitar. He played song after song, many light and cheerful.

  Harper spoke up when Jerseil paused to drink some of his wine. “Jerseil, I have never heard these songs! Where are they from?”

  “They’re pretty old. Very few people have heard these songs, and most bards don’t know them. They’re from a century ago or so, when things were darker. Back then, several performers focused on cheering people up, thus wrote songs to check the horror of the times.” He laughed as if something had occurred to him. “Gods, isn’t it strange? People just don’t give up on each other. Despite how little power they have, they still try to help. Sometimes, I wonder what would happen if those same people had the capability to make things better.”

  “I think it’s sweet. And inspiring,” Harper replied, a wistful tone in her voice. “So many people back home are so focused on what they want and where they want to be. The people here are, like, so much better in their sense of community.”

  I nodded and was about to add to the conversation, but I noticed that neither of them was paying attention to anything outside the two of them. Crap, I am officially the odd one out, I realized.

  “I wish I had your perspective, Harper. Then I could see what you see,” Jerseil replied. He had a slightly cynical smile. Despite that, she had fully captured his attention. “Though even if my eyes were as beautiful as yours, I doubt I could see things as well as you.”

  Harper blushed at the compliment. “You wouldn’t say that if you saw my old eyes. They were dark brown. Totally uninteresting.”

  “Any color of eyes that you could, or did, have would be gorgeous. The lines of your face denote beauty unheard of since the fabled Akashia of Keir’nas! The contours of your horns and shade of your hair only accentuate your appeal,” he replied.

  I was shocked at the level of corny rom-com nonsense flowing out of Jerseil’s mouth, but the sincerity of his voice was scary. He sounded like he fully believed what he was saying, and even I was buying it. I threw back my cup of wine and, without looking, Jerseil handed me another bottle of wine with the corkscrew. The implication was very clear. Be a bud and give us space.

  I opened the bottle, placing the corkscrew back in his hand, and filled my cup to the brim. I did not want to be aware of what they might do later, based on how they were looking at each other. Jealousy was not an emotion that I felt often. But in that moment, even though they were both my friends, I resented the fuck out of both of them.

  I really wished I had someone at that moment, so I wouldn’t feel that way. But there was no one for me. No one here, at least. You would think that I would be able to deal with it. I mean, Harper had experienced a major loss. She had known Juan way longer than I had, and it was hitting her hard. She needed this, and I knew it.

  But I would be lying if I said I was that unicorn of a friend, the one who would be cool with it. I would still be envious if only Jerseil were my friend. I never got that whole ‘bros before hoes’ thing. But I was drunk. Drunk and very lonely.

  I didn’t bother setting the bottle down as they danced their courtship. When I moved to the other side of the campsite with the bottle and cup in hand, they didn’t even notice. They were so focused, I could have crashed a car right next to them, and they wouldn’t have even looked in my direction. I wish… I wish Arilyn were here. Then I wouldn’t be in this position. I wouldn’t feel so jealous and alone.

  I finished the bottle and lay back on the uneven ground. My thoughts of the book-obsessed girl with the bright eyes and bouncy curls almost drowned out the sound of my friends making out not 13 feet away from me. And they were moving on from making out…

  Fuck my life, I thought. I wish I had thought to grab my bedroll off my horse. Poor GB is on the moon for all the good it would do me. The bottle rolled against a root, making a loud clink. I focused on its last wobbles before it was still, pondering my sad state.

  At least there are no rocks digging into my back.