“That water will go cold and wrinkle your skin,” he remarked.
A lazy sigh drifted up from the bath. “I know,” she admitted, stretching slightly, sending gentle ripples across the surface. “Isn’t that a wonderful thing, though? Nothing beats a long soak.”
Del huffed a quiet laugh.
‘Can’t argue with that.’
With nothing else pressing at the moment, he turned his focus back to the small collection of items they had gathered along the way.
Now that his Identify skill had improved, it was worth another attempt to figure out what they’d actually found.
Most of it was still beyond his ability to decipher, the magic too complex, too layered, refusing to yield its secrets.
All except one.
A ring.
Del unwrapped it carefully, feeling the faint tingle of magic he had sensed when they first acquired it.
It was, frankly, hideous—a gaudy, oversized thing, far too bulky for his usual taste, but it was the only enchanted item they had managed to loot from the brigand who killed Lucas.
They had tucked it away, too wary of curses to experiment, waiting until they could figure out its use safely.
Now was as good a time as any.
He turned it between his fingers, bracing himself for another frustrating ‘unidentifiable’ result.
‘Identify.’
The response came instantly.
- Minor Ring of Holding
A space to hide your stuff. Can hold up to 20lb, approximately 2 feet in diameter and 3 feet deep. Items placed inside can be retrieved by inspecting the contents.
Del let out a low chuckle, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
‘Now we’re talking.’
“You’re laughing to yourself again, Del.”
Elara’s languid voice drifted from the tub, tinged with amusement.
“What have you come across now?”
“I’m not,” Del countered, though he was absolutely caught in the act. “And who says I found something?”
He saw movement from the tub, then the slow rise of Elara’s head peering over the rim, her golden hair slicked back, water still clinging to her skin.
“I am convinced,” she said, lips quirking into a grin, “that you talk more to yourself than you do to me or Misty.”
Del rolled his eyes but said nothing.
Elara arched a playful brow, tilting her head. “Now, what’s made you so pleased with yourself?”
Del hesitated for half a second, wondering if telling her now would lead to another full-body dive out of the bath—and, sure enough, the moment he spoke, her reaction was predictably Elara.
“Remember that big, lumpy ring we got from the arsehole who killed Lucas?” he said. “I finally identified what it does.”
Her eyes lit up instantly.
Water splashed across the floor as she practically leapt out of the tub.
“What?” she demanded, crouching beside him in an instant, dripping water everywhere.
Del tried very hard to focus on the ring and not on the very naked, very enthusiastic elf currently dripping onto the floor next to him.
He cleared his throat and held the ring out for her to examine. “Seems it’s some sort of hidden storage item.”
Before she could press any closer, he grabbed a towel and draped it over her shoulders, more for his own sanity than hers.
Elara barely acknowledged it, her focus locked onto the ring with an eager grin, completely unbothered by the entire situation.
Del, meanwhile, was having a very different experience.
‘Del, you are too much of a fucking gentleman to handle this.’
Del briefly closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose.
‘Like hell. More like you’re just too bloody out of touch and friggin’ nervous to know how to handle her.’
It was a hard truth.
He’d spent the better part of twenty years alone, save for the occasional lonely-bar encounter—fleeting moments of human connection that never led anywhere.
‘And it’s got to be coming up ten years since I last even stepped foot in a bar.’
The thought was both sobering and ridiculous. Here he was, stuck overthinking his own awkwardness, when all Elara had done was dry herself off after a bath—completely oblivious to the absolute hurricane of over-analysis going on in his head.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
A sudden, eager voice yanked him back into the present.
“So, how does it work?”
Del snapped his focus back to the ring in his hand.
He made the very stupid mistake of glancing towards her, only to find his head level with her waist as she stood towelling dry.
‘Damnit, girl.’
He immediately ripped his gaze away, firmly fixing it on the ugly lump of jewellery in his hand.
Elara leaned in over his shoulder, peering at the ring. Strands of damp golden hair clung to her neck and cheek, a few stray locks brushing against Del’s face as she moved closer.
He twitched. “Oi,” he muttered, scrunching his nose as one clung stubbornly to his cheek.
Elara tilted her head slightly, blinking at him before reaching up to gently pluck it away with a faintly amused smirk.
“There. You’re free,” she said, flicking the stray strand aside.
“Much appreciated,” Del deadpanned.
Her attention returned to the ring, and she tapped it lightly with her finger, watching the way the dull metal failed to catch the light.
“So you have finally figured out what this ring is? I have been curious ever since we found it.” she mused.
Del resisted the urge to swat her hand away. “Oi careful,” he grinned. “This thing is actually very useful. It’s basically a storage space.”
She hummed, considering it. “Well… I suppose that’s handy.”
Del lifted a brow. “You sound disappointed.”
“I was hoping it was cursed,” she admitted with a faux-dramatic sigh, resting her chin against his shoulder. “Maybe something that would make your hair fall out. I’d finally get to see what you’d look like properly bald.”
Del narrowed his eyes at her. “That’s cruel.”
She grinned, unrepentant. “Oh, I know.”
He rolled his eyes, turning the ring between his fingers. “I could try putting something in it. See how it works.”
Elara tilted her head, pretending to mull it over thoughtfully. “You could start with your sarcasm. You’ve got a surplus.”
Del huffed a laugh. “Or better yet, I could store all my patience in it. Then, whenever I have to deal with you, I can just take some out.”
Elara gasped, mock-offended. “You make it sound like spending time with me is some great hardship.”
Del smirked. “I’d never say it out loud.”
She gave him a light shove, shaking her head as she straightened. “Unbelievable.”
As Del continued to examine the ring, Misty appeared as if summoned by sheer feline instinct, padding silently onto the table beside him.
She gave the ring a cursory sniff, then sat down with exaggerated disinterest, curling her tail neatly around her paws.
Del side-eyed her. “Not up to your standards?”
Misty yawned, stretching luxuriously, then gave him a slow, calculating blink.
‘Gaudy.’
Del scowled. ‘It’s practical.’
Misty flicked an ear, then turned her gaze pointedly toward Elara, who was still towelling her hair dry.
Del didn’t need words to interpret that particular look.
He sighed. ‘Not a word from you.’
Misty blinked again, this time with unmistakable smugness, before hopping off the table and sauntering toward the bed.
Del chuckled, finally slipping the ring onto his finger, feeling the subtle pulse of magic settle around his hand, a brief bubbling sensation deep in his gut—the same place he was starting to associate with mana.
‘Alright, let’s see what we’ve got.’
‘Menu.’ Nothing.
‘Contents?’ Nope.
‘Ring?’ This is getting frustrating.
‘Just show me what you’re damn well holding!’
A sharp blip of recognition pulsed through his mind, and suddenly, a mental panel unfolded before him, crisp and orderly—a series of four boxes, each neatly labelled.
- Coins: 15 gold
- Daggers of Venom (pair)
- Trail rations: 30
- Letter of Passage
‘Huh. Not bad.’
He focused on the letter of passage, trying various commands before finally managing to pull it free from the ring’s storage.
‘Why don’t these bloody things come with instruction manuals?’
His own mind was quick to snipe back at him.
‘You daft old soak, when was the last time you ever read a flipping manual?’
Del huffed under his breath, unfolding the letter as Elara returned, now fully dressed, and flopped down onto the seat beside him.
“What’s that?” she asked, watching as he smoothed out the parchment.
"A letter of passage, apparently."
Letter of Passage
To the Honourable Laird of Stenfield,
The bearer of this missive is on urgent business under the protection of King Reinhold III.
I would urge you to assist him with every haste to pass and continue on to the High Mountains.
Please grant him any supplies he may need and furnish him with directions for the safest path.
Your humble servant,
Sindar Threll; 2nd Minister to the Council of 12.
Del lowered the letter, eyebrows raised.
“Well… that’s interesting.”
“I’m guessing the supplies in the ring belonged to the original owner,” Elara mused.
Del nodded, turning the band over in his fingers. “And our long-dead robbers never figured out what this ring actually did.”
“If they had,” she pointed out, “then surely whatever was in there would be long gone—and it’d be filled with their own loot.”
Del let out a low chuckle, slipping the ring back onto his finger.
“Guess that makes this ours now.”
Del returned the letter to the ring’s storage, the parchment vanishing with a flicker of unseen magic.
“Apart from that,” he said, stretching his fingers, “there’s a bit of gold, some daggers, and trail rations.”
Elara nodded, tilting her head in thought. “Well, there’s little we can do for the original owner, no clue who it was or where his body lies. But when we get to Stenfield, it looks like we’ll have more than one thing to tell the Laird.”
Del hummed in agreement.
He pulled out the two daggers, testing their weight in his palms before slipping them neatly into two empty slots on his knife bandolier.
One could never have too many sharp edges in a place like this.
He secured the fastenings, then stretched his arms over his head.
"Let’s go eat," he suggested.
Elara turned, one eyebrow arching with pointed amusement.
“Nope,” she declared. “I’m going downstairs for a hot tea. You, however, are not having anything more until you have bathed.”
Del blinked. “I—what? You said I didn’t smell that bad!”
“I lied.” With dramatic flair, Elara pinched her nose between her fingers, shaking her head in exaggerated suffering.“I am not sitting next to you at dinner while you smell like a battlefield and a horse had a very unfortunate child.”
Before he could protest, she flounced out of the room, leaving only the faint scent of lavender in her wake.
Del stood there for a long moment after Elara left, arms still half-raised from where he’d been stretching.
‘Women.’
He sniffed his armpit.
‘Seriously, I’m not that bad.’
Misty, curled up on the bed, lifted her head just enough to stare at him, ears twitching.
A single, unimpressed thought drifted into his mind.
‘You are.’
Del sighed. ‘Traitor.’
Misty flicked her tail, her job done, and promptly went back to napping.
Shaking his head, Del peeled off his gear, shivering as he stepped into the now-cold bath.
The moment his skin hit the water, he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.
"Bloody hell—!"
He braced both hands on the edges of the tub, forcing himself to lower in slowly, his breath coming in short, annoyed huffs.
“Elara got to enjoy a nice, warm soak,” he grumbled. “And I get an ice trap.”
Steam still lingered faintly in the air, but it was all deceptive lies—this water had turned on him.
He gritted his teeth, settling in against his better judgment, and tried to at least make the most of it.
His muscles did need the soak, even if it wasn’t quite as relaxing as he’d hoped.
For a moment, he let his eyes drift half-closed, listening to the muffled noise of the inn below. The soft clatter of plates, the distant hum of voices.
His mind wandered briefly to what lay ahead.
Stenfield. Naomi. The Laird. Whatever the hell was in that journal.
A lot still needed unravelling, but for now, just for a few minutes—
He let himself relax.
Right before the water decided it needed to be even colder.
Del swore under his breath and fully submerged, determined to get this over with.