? When Grim awoke the next morning, he immediately rolled over to look at the other bed, wondering who the woman had been. Only… there was nobody there now. Had he imagined it? Had he mistaken a part of his dreams for reality? He sniffed at the air, detecting the faint scent of another person in the room. No, he hadn’t imagined or dreamed it. The scent of that other person still lingered. So they’d risen early… They were probably down in the mess hall.

  ? He took his time changing into some new clothes, then made his way downstairs for a hot breakfast. He was surprised to find most of the tables in the mess hall empty. Then, glancing out the front doors, he knew why. He’d somehow slept almost through to the lunch hour. Still, Frankie somehow noticed his late arrival and was already hurrying over with a plate of steaming eggs and bacon.

  ? “Thanks, Frankie,” he said, taking the plate, as well as a tall glass of some pink liquid that the cook handed him. “Sorry, I’m late.”

  ? Frankie waved off his apology without a word, already returning to the kitchen. Grim settled down across from Garf, who was moodily munching on a biscuit, his gaze fixed on the distance, his face devoid of expression.? As Grim moved into his line of sight, he blinked slowly, then scrunched up his eyebrows.

  ? “You’re late for breakfast,” he pointed out.

  ? “Barely later than you,” Grim countered, nodding at Garf’s plate. The food was still hot. “Unless you expect me to believe you’ve been eating for six hours straight.”

  ? “I’m a growing boy,” Garf said, stuffing the remaining half of his biscuit into his mouth. “You have no idea how much I can put away.”

  ? Grim could only shrug as he picked up a fork and started digging in. He really had no idea how Frankie could keep food so fresh and hot for so long. He didn’t believe Garf’s theory that Frankie simply cooked it all up when it was needed. With how many members of the guild he had to cook for, it was impossible to make small meals at such short notice. He had to be doing it earlier, then somehow keeping the food hot.

  ? “So,” Garf said, apparently giving up on his daydream. He leaned forward, a slow smile spreading across his face. “How ya liking having a roommate? She seems interesting.”

  ? “I don’t know a thing about her. She was already asleep by the time I got to bed, and gone when I woke up.”

  ? “She’s not gone. Out back training with Gerald.”

  ? Grim let out a quiet hum of interest, but he was too busy chewing a strip of bacon to give further comment.

  ? “She’s pretty good with that staff of hers,” Garf continued. “I caught a bit of it on my way back from my delve. Only level four, but she gave Gerald a good showing. I heard him say that she reminded him a bit of his old master.”

  ? “Interesting,” Grim added, since it seemed that Garf was waiting for him to say something. “Did you catch her name?”

  ? “Silver. Never gave a family or chosen name if she has one. I wonder if Orren will take a hand in teaching her. He’s a staff-user too, you know.”

  ? Grim nodded. He’d seen Orren returning from a mission beyond the wall a few days previously, a metal-encased war staff slung lazily over his shoulder. The weapon suited him in his draping tunic and short, lean build. Veyra, on the other hand, was at complete odds with her weapon of choice, a large hammer that—if rumors were to be believed— she could swing around as if it weighed nothing.

  ? “Maybe she could be your double during missions.”

  ? “My double?”

  ? “Didn’t Veyra explain it to you? Almost nobody gets sent on solo missions when they leave the city. You almost always have someone with you. That’s your double. Veyra and Orren are doubles. It’s like a party, but just within the guild. Usually, one person is good at sneaking, and one is good at fighting. They watch each other’s backs.”

  ? “Who’s your double, then?” Grim asked, picking up the last piece of bacon and sliding his empty plate to the side. He took a sip of the juice and found it was some kind of berry mix. It was tasty, if a little more bitter than he’d been expecting. It was a good counter to the cheesy eggs and greasy bacon.

  ? “Miranda. You didn’t know?”

  ? “Wait….” Garf had said that one was sneaky, and one was good at fighting. He didn’t recall Miranda mentioning any specialty with stealth in their conversations. In fact, as he looked Garfbroad, muscular form up and down, he realized she’d been quite open about her combat prowess. “You’re the sneaky one?”

  ? A sly smile broke onto Garf’s face. “Oh, I love the reactions new people get when they find out. That’s right. This hunk of handsome muscle is a scout. Shocking, isn’t it?”

  ? “Well, yes,” Grim agreed. Then a grin spread across his face. “Scouts are usually pretty quiet, aren’t they? I didn’t think you knew how to stop talking long enough to sneak around.”

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  ? Garf snorted. “Oh, look at you. A few weeks with Fendel, and you think you’re the next hero. I could steal the belt from your pants and leave you wondering why your pants were falling down. Without any skills, too.”

  ? He must have read the doubt on Grim’s face–not that he put any effort into hiding it–because the next thing he knew, Garf had rolled his eyes, then his right hand blurred slightly. Grim looked over at it and gave a small start. He was holding a knife in his hand, where previously there had been nothing. Not just any knife, either. His knife. His hand flashed down to the sheath at his belt, only to find it empty. “Damn. Alright, I’ll admit it. That was awesome.”

  ? “Damn right it was,” Garf said, casually flicking the knife back across the table to him. “Alright, well, I’m due for a nice long nap. See you at the late dinner.”

  ? “That hardly counts as a nap,” Grim said as his friend got up from the table. “A nap is more like an hour, or two at most!”

  ? “It’s however long I damn well please!” Garf called back, waving farewell over his shoulder.

  ? Having nothing else to look forward to but the spa visit, he decided he’d probably better wait around the guild hall for Miranda to find him. Maybe some practice? He could put a little extra archery time in. The thought of practice made him think of his new roommate, Silver. He thought he might as well see what the woman was like in combat.

  ? It didn’t take long to find her. She was sparring with Gerald in the middle of the grassy backyard, the two staff wielders dancing around each other, surrounded by whirling and clacking wood as they tried their best to hit each other. He had no idea what level Gerald was, but he was supposedly one of the more senior members. In Grim’s mind, that put him at least at level ten, possibly eleven. But Silver held her own against the elder delver. It was clear at once she wasn’t winning, but nor did she seem to be losing that badly.

  ? She gave ground grudgingly, her stance becoming more defensive the longer the bout went on. Even joining in on the watching so late, Grim was impressed by her stamina. Sweat poured freely down both fighters’ faces, marking their exertion. He knew nothing about staff combat, but thought the display of speed and power the two fighters put on was mesmerizing. The noise of the staves crashing against each other should have been grating, but instead it described a beautiful rhythm of momentum and balance, of discipline and action.

  ? “Five minutes!” Someone called out from the watching crowd. “Skills are a go!”

  ? Immediately, Silver disappeared in a streak of shadow, re-appearing behind Gerald and knocking his knees out from under him with one well-placed smack. Or at least, that’s what it looked like. Only a second later, she hit the ground instead, grunting as she fell to her hands and knees. An appreciative whistle rang out from the spectators, and Gerald grinned.

  ? “Forgot about my Reflect that fast, did you?” He asked, grinning. He offered Silver a hand up, and she took it, shaking her head ruefully. “I’ll wager you thought you could just hit me quick and catch me by surprise.”

  ? “Something along those lines,” the woman said, returning his grin. “I’m pretty fast, you know. That trick’s never failed me before.”

  ? “Well, there’s a first time for everything,” Gerald offered comfortingly. “Now, you should take a break. We’re both drenched and could use some cooling off time.”

  ? Silver nodded, then turned to face the building. After taking a few steps, she noticed Grim and froze, a broad grin spreading across her face. “Grim! You’re awake? I must say, you are a rather heavy sleeper. I knocked over my trunk trying to get dressed this morning, and you barely stirred. But I’m glad to finally get the chance to properly meet you.”

  ? She had a faint but distinct accent that he couldn’t quite place, though admittedly, he was certain he’d heard it somewhere before. He couldn’t contemplate it much in any event, as Silver extended her hand in the typical greeting once she was in easy reach. “Silver. No family or chosen name, just Silver. It’s my teacher’s nickname for me. Said I moved like quicksilver. And, well…”

  ? She gestured wordlessly at her hair, and Grim gave a hum of agreement. Shaking her hand, he found she had a surprisingly strong grip. Again, that wash of familiarity hit him, and he tried to remember the last time he’d seen this woman. Nothing came up, so he pushed the thought to the side and took a respectable step back. “So. Where are you from? I can’t quite place your accent.”

  ? “Oh, from the East,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “It’s such a small village it doesn’t even have a name. I’m much more excited to be here in Ironmarsh. So much more to do here.”

  ? “That’s certainly true,” Grim agreed with a chuckle. “Well, I look forward to working with you.”

  ? Just then, he’d spotted Miranda exiting the mess hall. It was clear she was searching for him because she came to a halt as she spotted him, and her usual smirk-grin showed itself. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Miranda and I are going into town.”

  ? “Aren’t we already in town, though?” Silver asked, tilting his head. “Where else is there to go?”

  ? Grim merely laughed as he avoided explaining. She’d get what it meant eventually. “Give it a month or so, you’ll understand.”

  ? He walked over to Miranda then, and she seized him by the arm, just above his elbow. “You’re cheating on me already, Grim? I even went through the trouble of scheduling a date today!”

  ? “In your wildest dreams,” Grim said, pulling his arm free. It took more effort than he was willing to admit. “She’s my new roommate. And you and I aren’t involved.”

  ? “Not yet,” Miranda offered with a sly smile. Her eyes slid down his thin frame, then back up to his face. “Once you get a little more muscle, I might be interested. I like thin men, but you’re practically a scarecrow.”

  ? “Hey, I’ve been putting on weight!” He protested. And it was true. With easy access to constant, good-quality food and his trainers working him so hard, he’d already begun to develop more muscle. He was far from the physique of someone like Garf, but his training was making him faster, more agile, and able to draw his bow more quickly and smoothly than before. In the month since he’d arrived in this city, he was shaping up to be a better delver than ever.

  ? “We’ll, we’ll see how you feel after the spa,” she countered, seeming to sense his thoughts. “The workers there are masters of the body. You’ll feel like a brand-new person, I promise.”

  ? “So you’ve promised. It’s your gold, so I’m glad to test the theory. Lead the way to my transformation.”