Eric returned to Raven’s Hall just in time to see a Royal Courier leaving the building. The man spotted him at once, of course, and offered him a deep bow. Eric returned the man’s bow with a little less effort. The Courier said that he’d been dropping two items off for him, but, finding him not home, had left the parcels with his head chef. Eric thanked him, and the man went on his way. Eric spared half a moment to wonder what the mail could be today, then went inside.

The first item turned out to be his pay from the mission that the Sergeant had recruited him for. A hand-written note from him thanked him for the hard work, and that if he found any promising opportunities, he would contact Eric right away. He smiled faintly at the thought that he’d formed such a good bond with an experienced senior like Alex Moran, and folded the paper, tucking it away. Then he glanced at the second paper, which wasn’t gold, but a writ from Everyone, telling him that an account had been created in his name, and now held two-thousand, five-hundred gold coins.

Eric let out a quiet shout of surprise, and nearly dropped the slip of paper. So much money, just for his involvement in a single mission! There had to be some mistake, he thought. He whipped Sergeant Moran’s letter back out and read through the part of it that referenced his pay. Our employer was most impressed with your performance on the job, and have granted you a bonus. They’ve also put a permanent mark on your record with the Guild, marking you as an exemplary soldier.

Emma, who had been in the kitchen and heard his shout, ran out to see what he was up to. Clearly spotting that he wasn’t injured, she frowned and walked over. “What is it?”

“Sorry for startling you,” Eric said hurriedly. “I’ve just been paid for my last job. It’s… more than I expected.”

“Oh,” Emma replied, scanning the note from Everyone. “Well, this is good! You can finally improve your gear.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my gear now,” Eric said defensively. “I’ve maintained it well.”

She smiled patiently at him. “I know you have, silly. I mean it’s time to get it enchanted. There are a lot of good mages in the city, and a soldier can only use unenchanted gear for so long.”

Eric had to admit that she made a good point. His main weapon, of course, still bore the enchantment that M had placed upon it. But the second weapon, given to him by Ehran, was a simple steel blade, and of course, his armor was plain in the extreme. Maybe it was time for an upgrade, he thought. His intensive training had further ironed out his unique style of fighting. He had developed preferences, annoyances, and possible improvements he would make if he had the funds and time. Well, he thought, now he had both.

“I’ll do that on my next day off,” he said firmly, smiling over the paper at her. “But for today, we have dinner plans.”

“Alright,” she said, a sly smile spreading across her face. “I’ll just go get dressed, then, and we can go.”

Eric watched her as she went up the wide wooden staircase to the second floor, wondering when she’d had the time to store clothes at his home. Did she live here now? He supposed that, in her eyes, the estate was more comfortable than the tiny room at the back of her shop. But didn’t her father have a home as well that they shared? He shook his head to clear it. That wasn’t his business, he told himself firmly. Best not to question it, as he realized that he preferred her company. Raven’s Hall seemed less lonely with her inside it.

He glanced at his own uniform and realized that it was covered in dust from walking around town all day. He’d better change too. For the first time, he called his tailor out to help him. The man’s eyes lit up with delight when Eric said he needed a new outfit for his dinner date, and assured him he could have one whipped up in less than half an hour. Eric raised his eyebrows in surprise but followed the man to a small chamber adjacent to the kitchen.

The tailor was as good as his word. He had Eric stand still in the center of the room, and darted around him with measuring tape in one hand and a small fabric knife in the other. He fired questions at Eric, confirming his favorite color, style of sleeves, fit on his pants, and many more. Each answer Eric gave saw a small edit to the tailor’s plans, who went to work with a will, quickly bringing swatches of fabric over, and forming them into an elegant uniform.

“How can you work so fast?” Eric asked, his eyes wide as the tailor cut his tunic free in the blink of an eye and replaced it with a soft white cotton undershirt. “I’ve seen tailors before, and none could move as quickly as you.”

“Thank you for your praise, young master,” the tailor said around the bobby pins sticking out of his mouth. “But I imagine the tailors you have seen haven’t used magic.”

So saying, the tailor made several small adjustments to the undershirt, which consisted of many little cuts to remove fabric, then pinning the shirt back together with the bobby pins in his mouth. He stood back for a second, judging the way it hugged Eric’s frame and nodded in satisfaction. Then he retrieved a needle and thread and stitched the cut sections closed. Eric was started to feel a little energy burning against his skin, and glanced down. There was no seam he could identify, he realized. The gaps in fabric looked as though they’d never been cut.

Eric glanced at the mirror in front of him, admiring the way that the undershirt fit snugly to his frame. He hadn’t realized how lean and powerful his body had become with his training and the change in his stats. He was less stocky than he’d been on Earth, not to mention lighter. The tailor had worked the shirt to show off his narrow hips and broad shoulders to perfection. Next came the pants, long, dark gray, and just as soft at the undershirt. They were cinched at the waist and ankles, and fit perfectly.

It was just ten minutes later that Eric stood in front of the frame, wearing a long light blue tunic with tight cuffs and a stiff collar. Over that lay a thick cloth evening jacket. It was the same dark gray as his pants and had flared sleeves. Eric liked the way that it hung down to just past his knees but wasn’t sure he enjoyed the flare. He commented on that, and the tailor quickly adjusted them so that they were straight. Eric grinned at his reflection. He looked good.

The tailor bowed him out of the small chamber, pleased with his work. Eric walked to the base of the stairs while buttoning the jacket up, just in time to see Emma appear. His breath caught at the sight of her. She wore an elaborate green dress with golden trim. It hug her body tightly, showing off her curvy frame and long legs. It had a strap for one shoulder and left the other, which bore a small flower tattoo, bare.

“Oh, close your mouth,” she said with a laugh. “You’re going to swallow a fly.”

Eric hurriedly snapped his mouth shut, his heart racing just looking at her. “Sorry. You look amazing.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she said with a coy smirk, coming level with him and running one hand over the shoulder of his coat. “Dinner seems almost pointless now. I could just bring you back upstairs for a good evening.”

His brain jammed to a halt there, and he opened and closed his mouth several times, unable to form a reply. That drew a loud laugh from her, and she gave him a kiss. “Alright, that’s enough teasing. Shall we head out to the Heron?”

Eric gladly obliged, holding his arm out. She took it with a smile, and they exited the building for the carriage waiting outside. Raven’s Hall didn’t have a carriage, so Eric had hired one for the evening. He gave the driver a gold coin and a nod, and they were off. He glanced over at Emma to see her relaxing on the soft cushioned seat, and grinned. He wasn’t really an expert on dating, but he thought he was doing pretty well so far.

The Heron was busy when they arrived, but Mandra was clearly ready for their arrival. Attached to the main building but removed from the loud taproom, they were seated in a quiet dining area with only four other people in sight. With the richly upholstered chairs and dark wooden tables, it more closely resembled a gourmet restaurant. Mandra followed them to their chairs, watching with an approving smile as Eric pulled Emma’s chair out for her and pushed it back in.

“You two look ready for a good night of fun,” she said, sharing a knowing smile with Emma. “And you’re in luck. I have the perfect dinner ready for you. Unless you’d prefer to order something in particular?”

Eric shared a glance with Emma, sensing her thoughts, and smiled up at Mandra. “I think we’d be foolish to refuse your suggestion, Mandra. We have to trust the master.”

Mandra’s smile widened. “Look who’s a smooth talker now. I’ll just go fetch your drinks, and get started on the meal.”

Eric barely had time to wonder what kind of drink Mandra would bring before she was back, holding a bottle of wine and two fragile glasses. The wine was a dark red in color as she poured it, the liquid sloshing around in the glasses and releasing a fragrant aroma that he immediately recognized. Strawberries. His eyebrows shot up in anticipation, which Mandra noticed. She passed him his cup, and he took a sip. It was delicious, just like everything Mandra made.

Emma and Eric talked quietly amongst themselves while waiting for their dinner, discussing what had happened in the past month. Eric had been kept so busy with his training that they hadn’t had much time to speak, outside a few minutes of conversation in the evenings. It was good to have a long conversation again, he thought, particularly with someone attractive. Emma asked how his training was going, and he told her about the progress he’d made. She, in turn, told him about how business at Willow’s Respite was still holding steady.

“We’re not nearly as busy now that the war has ended,” she said. “But I’m not complaining. We worked all day back then, as more wounded were always coming in, and there were soldiers with some serious injures that required constant attention.”

“I’ve heard a lot of praise for your healing skills,” Eric commented. It was perfectly true. Each time that she or her father were mentioned in conversations he heard, it was always with respect. She was referred to as ‘the fine lady Ciayol’ more times than he could count. “I bet your father is very proud of you.”

“Oh,” she said quietly, waving the praise away and blushing. “I’m just good with plants and healing. It’s nothing special.”

Eric didn’t push the subject, choosing merely to smile over his wineglass at her. He could feel a flush creeping through his body, and her face was a little pink, doubtless thanks to the liquid. The dinner came then, and they ate it with gusto, proclaiming their praises of Mandra’s skill when she came back to ask after the meal. Delighted that they were enjoying the meal, she brought them a delicious cheesecake for dessert. It was light and delicious, with strawberry glaze drizzled on top, and a few strawberries on the side.

Later that night, once they had returned to the estate, they were both sighing with pleasure, so full from Mandra’s cooking that they were tired. Yet Emma clearly had more than sleep in mind, and pulled him into the bed, quickly pulling him in for the first of many kisses. Life in Ahya was so close to perfect, he thought. He should have known that would be the last time he had that thought. But, unable to predict the future, he slept peacefully, unaware that life was about to become hell for him.