“There’s a cum stain on my cloak,” Jace said.

He scratched the hardened whitish splodge with the tip of his nail and wasn’t sure how to react. On his coarse, very fantasy-like, medieval-looking dark blue cloak was a spot of dried-up cum. He giggled.

“What?” Liut looked up from his meal, a spoon with broth hovering close to his mouth.

“Nothing.” Jace crumpled the cloak so the stain got hidden among creases of fabric. “I was talking to myself.”

The tavern they stopped by was deep in the Woodskums—that horrible piss-smelling part of Lodgerod down by the eastern gate. The slums were truly a sorry sight. Apparently, even in an epic fantasy setting there was a need for a poverty-ridden neighborhood.

And as everywhere in the world, real or written, the gutters were the place to hide from authorities. They got a room in a shady inn to tidy themselves up, but Jace forgot to check over his cloak.

“You should eat,” Liut urged, nodding to Jace’s own bowl of brownish, sludgy broth that looked… suspicious. No doubt noticing Jace’s hesitation, Liut snorted. “It’s not so bad. I’ve had worse.”

Well, Liut maybe had eaten his fair share of disgusting medieval cooking, but Jace was pampered by fast food and frozen pre-made delicacies. He had a sophisticated palate. Unfortunately for his delicate palate, his stomach grumbled, loud enough that the buzz of the lively tavern couldn’t swallow it.

Pursing his lips while Liut snickered, Jace carefully picked up a wooden spoon. It was clean, sort of. How many times had he read characters dying of indigestion or honest food poisoning? Not many. So, plopping the spoon into the brown monstrosity, Jace decided he could venture. After all, was it not part of his grand plan to discover new worlds and cultures? Had he not survived countless shawarmas bought in the middle of the night by the equally piss-smelling train station?

Full of resolve, Jace quickly ate a mouthful. And… Well. It was greasy, salty, not spicy enough for his liking, but it certainly was edible. Once, he cooked himself a hangover soup that tasted rather similar. He never cooked it again, of course, but he didn’t die from it.

“Hm.”

“Told you.”

Hunger winning over reason, Jace started eating earnestly. The sooner he was done with it, the sooner he could wash out the taste.

“Do they have beer?” he asked Liut between mouthfuls.

“A what?”

Right. Fantasy setting. Though beer was ancient enough of a drink, actually.

“Ale.” Jace fixed his slip-up. “This broth is too salty.”

Skeptically watching Jace eat, Liut nodded. His protagonist halo glowing around him, he only needed to look in the direction of the tavern keeper and the woman stumbled over herself to run to their table.

She was perfect for the role—plump, full-chested, well in her forties, with a stern look but rosy cheeks and a messy bun of silver-dusted hair.

Actually, though the tavern was located in the Woodskums, Jace happily observed its interior. A high ceiling with wooden beams, crude iron chandeliers hanging from it on thick chains, candles huddled in circles over it. On the walls between windows, lamps shed warm light over the tables. Behind them, men dressed in simple, slightly dirty clothes, mostly shirts with tattered leather vests, talked and laughed with wooden tankards in their hands. A huge fireplace, reaching the shoulder of the elderly man currently throwing logs in it, lit up most of the spacious room.

It was cozy though slightly unkempt. And, thankfully, the terrible stench was left outside on the streets, and the smells of food and smoke prevailed over it behind closed doors.

“Yes, dear?” The keeper smiled brightly at Liut, dusting her apron. She clearly was not immune to Liut’s looks.

Jace couldn’t blame her, Liut was sticking out like a sore thumb among all other patrons. Tall, broad, in black armor and with shiny dark hair up in a ponytail, he truly was a dashing hero of a story. The moment he had taken off his hood all eyes were on him.

Oh, what a man. What a specimen.

“Could you bring over two tankards of ale for us?” he asked with a smile, all handsome and charismatic and ughhh. Jace ate a mouthful of broth to stop this train of thought.

“Right away, dear!” The keeper nodded and almost flew to the kitchens.

Jace swallowed his food and grinned. “You have your way with the ladies,” he teased.

Liut shrugged. “Why not? It’s convenient.”

“Humility is not a virtue of yours, by the way,” Jace noted, pointing his spoon at Liut.

Raising his eyebrows, Liut pointedly stared back, even going so far as to look Jace up and down. “You’re the one to tell me that?”

A frown found its place on Jace’s face.

“What do you mean? I am very humble.”

“Sure you are.”

Dropping the spoon, Jace sputtered.

“Empty accusation! I don’t flaunt my looks to get people running around me!”

As soon as he said that, he remembered that he had a different face now. The type considered conventionally beautiful in this world, though Jace himself was yet to find a mirror to check it. In the real world, he stopped caring long ago about his appearance—permanent dark circles and a listless look were far from desirable.

“Oh, really?” Liut leaned over the table and narrowed his eyes. “Then how am I finding myself in this shitty tavern hiding you from the Golden Guards?”

“Um.” Jace picked up his spoon and shoved a hefty amount of food into his mouth. He lost this battle, he could admit.

Liut stared him down with an eloquent snort.

Gulping down the greasy excuse of a meal, Jace remembered that he had an important bit of plot-relevant information to share.

“Speaking of the Golden Guards, what do you know about their hunt for these Remnants?” Jace questioned, lowering his voice.

Two tankards were placed onto the table, the keeper fussing as she picked up Liut’s empty bowl and wiped the table with a sparkly clean cloth.

“Here, dear, enjoy your ale.” She pushed one closer to Liut. Jace got a sleazy side-eye instead. But once she turned her attention back to Liut, it was with a wide smile. “I poured you the best one, on the house,” she whispered and winked.

“You’re too kind, auntie,” Liut said with a smile. He took a sip and nodded. “Tastes great, thank you for the trouble.”

Blushing and waving her hand in dismissal, the keeper was all too eager to continue talking, but other patrons called her over. Once she left, Liut relaxed his face into a nonchalant, bored expression.

“Tastes terrible,” he admitted. Jace snorted. “I’ll treat you to a good one soon, but this will do.”

“You’re too kind,” Jace echoed with a shit-eating grin, and Liut rolled his eyes.

“So, the Remnants,” he said, cutting off the banter, and fixed his gaze on Jace. “It’s a legend. We all heard the same stories when we were children, so that’s pretty much all I know, too.”

Jace pushed away the bowl and grabbed his tankard, taking a gulp of the foamy drink. It was rather decent; he’d tasted worse.

“My mother was ill for as long as I can remember, so there was no one to tell me stories.” Weaponizing freshly learned lore, Jace hoped Liut would tell him these legends. He’d read the first chapters so long ago he hardly remembered them; it was only a few passing mentions.

Tilting his head, Liut studied Jace for a bit. Thankfully, he decided not to pry.

“My father told me about them,” he started. Oh, right, Liut’s mother also died when he was a kid. “According to the legend, a long time ago, the human realm was believed to be void of magic, men fighting men with nothing but stones and poorly forged iron. There were no towns nor kings, only nomadic tribes hunting and constantly moving around, battling with each other for better lands.”

Eagerly, Jace listened. He leaned in closer and sipped on his ale, wide eyes with full attention on Liut. Jace fucking loved worldbuilding, okay? And lore dumped on him by the protagonist himself? Jace was all ears.

“Then, the Celestial Overhost descended to our realm.”

The Celestial Overhost!

“In their golden armor and with steel swords unmatched in prowess, they warned the humans—the Discarded Demons were about to attack.”

Jace widened his eyes. Discarded Demons? How cool!

“And then?”

Still rather doubtful about Jace’s enthusiasm, Liut continued,

“The Celestial Overhost pledged to help the humans, so the vicious monsters would not devour our world. They taught humans how to forge unbreakable steel, trained humans in various arts, from music to soothe the soul to martial techniques and host strategies to fight off the Discarded.”

Wiping away the ale trickling down his chin, Jace grinned.

“Let me guess—they picked the mightiest to lead humans and those were the kings,” Jace said, dressing his voice in faux grandeur.

Liut chuckled and took a swig.

“Yes,” he nodded. “Even to this day all kings and queens take their crown under the eye of the Celestial Overlord. Though they also pledge to the North Gods, the East Gods, the Central Gods… you get what I mean.”

“Are those gods real?” Jace asked.

Bang!

He flinched in his seat, startled by the unexpected noise. In the corner of his eye, he saw the doors to the tavern crash open.

Not the least bit shaken, Liut sighed. He leisurely put his hood on and reached over the table to do the same for Jace. Tugging the fabric lower, he tucked the lock of silver hair behind Jace’s ear.

“You could pray to them now and find out,” he offered with an eerie smile.

The pair of armored guards walked through the entrance.

Jace gulped, wide eyes staring at Liut.