Game Master in Another World

We left the courthouse in a daze. Our emotions were still raw from the ordeal, the echo of Barnabus's insults and the heavy thud of the executioner's blade still ringing in our ears.

Sera grabbed Illara’s and my shoulders. "We should celebrate. Let's get you drunk."

"But it is only midday," I countered.

"So?" Sera’s tone dropped, losing its usual playful edge. "I think you lot need something to reset your minds. And anyway, we need to celebrate the culmination of this journey."

Cain stepped up from behind us. "Yes, I think that is a great idea. Jenna and I will join you."

"I guess that is decided, then," Illara said, her eyes still red from crying, though a faint smile finally broke through.

I looked over at Faie, who was still securely wrapped in Joan's arms. "Are you two coming?"

Faie’s face flushed a deep, brilliant red. "Actually," she stammered, suddenly finding the cobblestones very interesting, "Joan and I were going to... um... spend some time alone together. To celebrate."

Joan grinned, pulling Faie just a little closer against her side. "We've got a lot of catching up to do."

Sera laughed, waving them off. "Have fun, you two. We'll drink your share."

With Faie and Joan happily slipping away down a quiet side street, the rest of us set out for a local pub nearby. We found it surprisingly full for the time of day. As we walked through the doors, conversation stalled, and every eye in the room turned to us.

A rotund, middle-aged man immediately approached. My instincts spiked, and I stepped in front of Illara, my hand drifting toward my belt.

But the man simply stopped and beamed at us. "Well done on taking that prick down," he said loudly. "I never believed those tall tales of his. Congratulations on your victory. I’ll buy you all a round!"

"Thank you," Illara said, relaxing her stance.

"I'll just have milk, thanks," Sera added quickly.

The man chuckled and headed for the bar. The surrounding patrons quickly shuffled their chairs, happily clearing a large table for us near the hearth.

I sat down, feeling entirely out of my depth. I wasn't used to being treated like a celebrity—especially not in a city that had feared me only hours ago.

A short while later, the man returned, setting glasses of rich, dark wine in front of us, along with a tall mug of milk for Sera.

"You didn’t have to get us something so expensive," Cain said kindly. "Let me pay you back a bit, at least."

The man shook his head vigorously. "No, no. Tell you what—if you all autograph my scroll here, we can call it even."

He unfurled a crisp sheet of parchment. We passed it around the table, each of us adding our signatures in turn. Once we were finished, he very carefully rolled it back up and slid it into a leather scroll case.

"Thank you so much," he said, beaming. "You’ve made my day."

With the autograph hunter happily making his exit, we finally had a moment to breathe. Cain raised his glass of dark wine, the firelight catching the ruby liquid.

"To justice," Cain said simply. "And to the end of a very long, very dark road."

"To justice," we echoed, clinking our glasses together. Sera happily tapped her mug of milk against my wine glass, a knowing, radiant smile on her face.

As we settled back into our chairs, I noticed Ash staring down at his hands. They were trembling slightly. He looked up, his eyes locking onto Sera. He reached out, gently taking her hand in his, and took a deep, shuddering breath.

He opened his mouth. At first, nothing happened. His jaw worked, his throat bobbing as he struggled against two decades of silence.

Sera leaned in, her brow furrowing with concern. "Ash? Are you all right?"

Then, a sound broke through. It was harsh, raspy, and incredibly quiet—like two dry stones grating against each other.

"Sera..."

The entire table froze.

Ash swallowed hard, tears beginning to spill over his eyelashes. He squeezed Sera's hand tighter, forcing his unused vocal cords to form the words he had been holding onto for far too long.

"Marry... me."

Sera gasped, her free hand flying to cover her mouth. The tough, quick-witted woman who had braved bandits and corrupt guards without batting an eye completely dissolved into tears.

"Yes," she sobbed, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder. "Yes, you idiot, of course I will."

A stunned silence hung over our table for a few seconds before Cain let out a booming, joyous laugh, clapping Ash hard on the back. Illara was practically bouncing in her seat, wiping away her own happy tears.

The surrounding patrons, sensing the shift in the mood and seeing the tears, began calling out.

"What's the occasion?" a man shouted from the bar.

"An engagement!" Cain called back proudly. "And the return of a man's voice!"

A massive cheer went up around the room.

"Well then, we need a song!" the bartender yelled, wiping down the counter. "Where's the bloody bard?"

"Slept in, the lazy sod!" someone replied.

I looked at Illara, a smirk pulling at the corner of my mouth. No bard meant no instruments, so this song was going to have to be a cappella.

Illara didn't seem bothered by the lack of instruments. She stepped into the centre of the room and clapped her hands together twice, establishing a loud, steady, foot-stomping rhythm. A few patrons near the front immediately caught the beat, thumping their heavy tankards against the wooden tables.

Illara flashed me a brilliant smile, took a breath, and let her bright, clear voice ring out across the tavern.

"Raise it high, let the timber ring!"

I stepped in smoothly on the next beat. I let Drisnil's disarmingly sweet, melodic voice carry the counter-melody, weaving it perfectly beneath Illara's lead.

"For the silent heart has learned to sing!"

Illara spun around, gesturing to the tables of revellers. "A toast to the road and the trials we bested!"

I matched her energy, pitching my voice just a little louder to cut through the rising cheer of the crowd. "A toast to the wicked, now safely rested!"

By now, half the tavern was clapping and stomping along, the floorboards vibrating beneath our boots. Illara reached out and grabbed my hand, and we hit the final chorus together, our voices blending in a soaring harmony.

"So strike the table and stamp your feet!The journey was bitter, but the end is sweet!"

We finished on a long, triumphant high note. For a split second, the tavern was entirely silent, captivated by the echoing harmony. Then, a massive, deafening cheer erupted. People whistled, stamped their boots, and raised their newly filled glasses toward us.

We took a quick bow, breathless and laughing, and made our way back to our table, where Cain, Jenna, Sera, and Ash were already raising their own glasses to welcome us back.

Another round of drinks appeared before we had even finished our last. Sera, quite full of milk by now, finally stopped drinking, but the rest of us certainly didn't.

Slightly inebriated, Illara leaned across the table. “What will you name your firstborn?” she asked Sera.

Sera and Ash exchanged a warm look. “If it is a girl, we were thinking Tabatha. And if it is a boy, we were thinking Theo.”

A bright, genuine smile bloomed on Illara’s face. “I’d love that.”

“We wanted to name them after some of the best people we have known,” Sera replied with a wink. “Not that I’m pregnant, of course.”

After six rounds of drinks, Illara pushed her chair back and stood up. “I’m going to go get dressed into something nicer. I’ll be back soon.” She smiled, leaning in to press a warm kiss to my cheek. Her breath tickled my ear as she whispered, “And for you, I will have a surprise.”

I smiled back lazily. “I’ll see you soon.”

The pleasant fuzziness caused by the alcohol was already making it difficult to speak clearly. Illara waved to the group and left the tavern, graciously accepting congratulations from several patrons on her way out the door.

“So, Sera,” I asked, my words slurring just a fraction. “When do you think you’ll actually get married?”

“Oh, maybe in a week or two, if that works for Jenna?”

Jenna simply nodded, resting her head heavily on her folded arms on the table.

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