It's hard to say no to more celebrations, I suppose.

  Prior to the return of the Passguards, the town held their own ceremony, originally pnned for Galen's successful vanquishing of the Py'riel threat; all they had to do was change a few names in the mayor's big speech. Most of it was how Quinn's Peak would forever remember Janine's heroism in the face of impossible odds, that sort of thing. They even made a cake with a little figurine that looked like us on top! I could only assume it was tasty, the Denholms enjoyed it at least. Everyone brought Janine gifts, the local bards filled the air with music until the stars came out—it had been a night of jubint, but restrained, revelry.

  The Passguards took a... rowdier approach. In Janine's honor, they crammed as many bodies as they could manage into the Alehorse with the intent of drinking every st pint of whatever the bartenders poured into their gsses. It's a wonder the tavern didn't cave in upon itself, its floorboards groaning below the sea of blue tabards as frantic bartenders squeezed by to deliver pints to the furthest tables. Before the first round of ale, the Passguards fractured into two groups, with the locals acting as a buffer between ourselves and the more unruly mercenaries. By the third round, those divisions started to falter, as a number of Passguards elected to share—or shout, more likely—their desires to give me a test swing. What's the harm, they'd ask, what's the worst that could happen? That I'd find one of the heavily inebriated mercenaries more worthy? They'd wonder aloud if Janine was really one of the Passguards if she wouldn't trust her colleagues to let them try me out.

  I remained around Janine's neck as she stood at the bar with a bandaged Warren and a few others—even though we were surrounded by a mass of people who might try to snatch me away if an opportunity arose, she didn't want to leave me at home or with her family, worried that someone might try to harm them to get to me. If anything, I was safer with Janine, and likewise she could better protect herself with me always within reach. Out of an abundance of caution, I kept myself on alert, listening to the scattered conversations from Janine's colleagues and hoping that nothing went beyond talking.

  "Did Evelyn's burn remedy help much?" Janine asked Warren, needing to repeat herself a few times to overcome the cacophony of voices bouncing around the rafters and drowning out casual conversation. She tapped her fingers against a fresh pint of ale, trying to distract herself from the gnces from the surrounding crowd. "She'd been working on a 'special anti-Pyriel blend' for as long as she's been mixing with Uncle Tobias."

  Warren set down his gss, wincing at the bitter ale in his gss. "Hm? Oh, yes. It went down a lot smoother than whatever this is, this tastes like they've mixed in the mop water to stretch their supply." The elder Passguard chuckled to himself, but a somber look soon crossed his face as he his gaze at the ale in front of him. "This is how it's going to be all the time now, you know."

  "Nonsense, they'll restock with the good ale again in no time."

  With a mournful shake of his head, Warren looked to me for a brief moment before returning his focus to Janine. "That's not what I meant. I meant this new reality of being a hero, of carrying such a powerful weapon." I could see the sorrow swell in his eyes, apologetic for the bleak future I'd inadvertently condemned my champion to.

  Janine crossed her arms as she leaned against the bar, squinting at her mentor. "I've had Viridian around my neck for a half-dozen years without a problem up until now. What would you have me do, Warren? Get rid of it like Galen wanted?"

  "I'm not suggesting anything like that, goodness no. Make no mistake, you have every right to keep your Viridian Sphere, and if I'm understanding things correctly, it's done well to choose you in return. But that chain around your neck is going to weigh a little heavier each time people who don't know any better decide to stir up trouble about it. You're going to need to be ready to carry that weight, possibly for the rest of your life, if you don't intend to shed it. I'm sure you can manage, I just don't want to see you miserable because of it."

  I hoped Warren was mistaken about the path ahead. We couldn't be on edge every moment of every day, paranoid about whether each person we pass on the street might try to tear us apart for their own selfish gain. They'd all be foolish to try! So long as I empowered Janine with my magic and lend her a bde, I can elevate her talents to incredible heights. ...This tension would pass, I decided. After all, even the more aggressive would-be challengers kept their hands to themselves so far, nobody had yet tried anything stupid enough to—

  "Hey, Janine, hey." Right on time to prove me wrong, one of the more intoxicated mercenaries, a tall and wiry man named Neil, fished around in his pockets after worming his way through the crowd to confront Janine. "I bet you a hun'rd... hn—hun...dred gold, against your fancy neckce, that I could... could I..." Janine tensed when Neil pulled out a knife, pointing it at her throat before dropping it. "Ah, whoops, here we go. The horse painting, right? You know the one? The one by the door? We throw the horse at the knife... the... horse at the knife. And closest to the head wins. How's that sound? Fair, right?"

  "No throwing knives at my painting again Neil, I'm not putting up with that again," the exhausted bartender, Roy, said as he leaned over the counter and plucked the well-worn bde from the mercenary's hand, depositing a fresh pint in its pce. "Go sit down, you can come back for your knife tomorrow."

  Janine sighed in relief as she watched Neil stumble away. "Thanks for that."

  "Yeah, yeah," Roy said, "though I'm not doing it for you, Miss Hero. You know how much it costs to hire a chronomancer to restore a painting? You probably would, come to think of it. Anyway, I just don't want knife holes all over Potatoes again."

  "C'mon pal, lighten up, it's all in good fun," another Passguard said as he picked up a fresh round of drinks from the bar. "We're all just joking around here."

  A familiar voice boomed from the back of the room, crushing every other conversation into silence.

  "I'm not."