Smugglers and Dungeons!

It was so tasty! Icarus had never, ever, eaten such lovely stew! He was about to look at Basila, who… began to choke.

"Hey! What the!" Icarus began to clap her on the back.

Only for her to spit out a fly.

"Darn it! Not even once!" Basila yelled angrily. "Keep your bloody rotting meat somewhere where you don't cook!" She shook her fist at the maid, but Ingrid just snorted in her direction.

"Man," Icarus said, looking at the fly, which was now lying in a pool of spittle on the dusty floor. "That's nice fish bait!"

Basila glared at him. Icarus decided that the fly should stay where it was.

"Are you two too good for this place, then?" The old man who spoke was in the process of getting a strand of hair out of his stew.

Icarus shook his head. Basila began to look green.

"Seriously? Hair is worse than flies?" Icarus asked, noticing his lady's expression.

"Sure is! You don't know where Ingrid has been!" Basila said, keeping her voice low.

Icarus blinked. He did not understand what Ingrid had to do with anything, but he still felt that Basila's fear was a silly one.

"Here, have some of my bread," he said, breaking some of it, only for a fingernail to poke out…

"No, thanks!" at this point, Basila was sure that Ingrid hated them all and wanted for them to die screaming.

"Well, if you don't want it, girl, I do," the old man snatched the bread, got the fingernail out, and threw it in a random direction.

The three heard a splash, then loud cursing.

"You son of a… oh, Master Tang! Thank you for the fingernail!"

Icarus blinked at the man who was about twice his size and was now in the process of pocketing the fingernail which the old man had thrown in his stew.

Huh…

"Hey, old man, why did this man call you Master Tang?" Icarus was not of these lands. His home country was closer to another one, where such names were common.

But that was so far away from here that to see someone of those lands in an inn in an elven country was probably the strangest thing that had happened to Icarus that day.

Even stranger than marrying Basila!

"We are not married!" Basila hissed at him, just like a wife would.

Huh, could she read his thoughts?

"Sure, I know," and Icarus turned back to stare at the old man.

"My name is Hua Tang," the old man said, wincing. "My parents did not want a tenth child and decided it was somehow my fault. But that was many years ago. Now, are you two really too good for this fine establishment?"

"What's so fine about it?" Basila countered, eyeing her stew with mistrust.

 On the one hand, she was hungry. On the other, there was no telling what sort of eldritch horror Ingrid had dumped in her stew…

"It has a roof," Hua Tang pointed at the window. "You don't like the stew? Would you have liked it better if it were a soup?"

Basila blinked when she looked out of the window.

The loud music had drowned out the noise of the pitter-patter, but the windows were wet.

Raindrops rolling over the glass.

"Huh," the brunette said, as she looked at the key around her neck. The room she was going to share with Icarus for the night. One where they wouldn't get rained on. "I guess, put like that…"

"And Ingrid is pretty!" Icarus yelled at the top of his lungs. He heard a giggle, followed by an apple flying his way.

"Shameless cheater!" Basila yelled, as she began to eat her stew once more.

 As Hua Tang had said, it was no soup… that was still something.

"What? It's the truth! Ingrid is pretty, and kind," Icarus continued, as he heard another giggle. All three of them saw as Ingrid got up the stairs, in the direction of the only room in the attic.

Basila and Icarus' room!

Carrying… fresh linens!

"Ok, see here," Basila was a lady and thus, a businesswoman. "I want fluffy pillows. Do what you must."

Icarus chuckled.

"And Ingrid is the best cook in town!"

It was a lie, a bold one. But the young maid giggled once more.

Basila got her pillows.

0000

As the two were finishing up their bread, making sure that not even a crumb was left, the two young companions looked at the old man.

"Say, Master Tang," Basila began, as she noticed the rat traps which were lying next to the old man. "Were you an adventurer once?"

Hua Tang began to laugh so, as if he had heard the best joke in the world.

"Who? Me? I wasn't just an adventurer!" He said, as he lowered his voice. "I was a Guild Master! Managed to avoid getting dragged to the army! As if an army can ever deal with the dungeons!"

Icarus sighed.

Oh, to have been born just fifty years earlier! To have the resources, the adventurer had before the Emperor had decided that enough was enough, and he did not want child soldiers to roam the countryside.

Not because he cared that they were children, but because they weren't under his control.

"Say, Master Tang," Basila continued, for she had nothing to lose. "Do you need help with anything? Do you… have skill books?"

Hua Tang sighed.

"You'll get in trouble, girl," he knew her type. The fallen noble, who thought that the world was going to forgive her boldness.

"Well, it beats moldy bread!" Icarus said, as he took Basila's hand, and raised it above their heads. "And we are not looking for skill books! We are looking for a job!"

"How old are you two?" Hua Tang's voice was all business.

"I'm fifteen!" Icarus answered, as he looked at Basila.

"Same," the girl added.

"Well, that's old enough for an apprenticeship. No one will ask questions," Master Tang lowered his voice. "And, yes, I do have books!"

As Basila cheered, Icarus stood up and went to Ingrid. He hoped to get a couple of more apples.

And one of them had Basila's name on it!