The Broken Axe was packed tonight.
Ashara moved between the tables with a tray on one hand and a grin on her face, her modified uniform doing exactly what it was designed to do. Cropped top showing her stomach and a good amount of underboob, shorts cut high on her thighs, boots. Every head in the place turned when she walked by, and every turned head meant another tip.
[God, I missed this.]
She dropped off two ales at a table of dwarves, collected a handful of coppers, and spun toward the bar for the next round. Brenna was already pouring.
"Table six needs refills," Brenna said without looking up.
"On it."
Ashara grabbed the mugs and headed for table six, which was occupied by a group of adventurers, mid-rank by the look of their gear, who'd been getting louder with every round. She leaned over to set the drinks down and a hand landed on her ass.
She didn't flinch.
She set the mugs down, turned to the guy who'd done it, a big human with a red beard and a drunk grin, and leaned in close. She put her lips right next to his ear.
"You know," she whispered, "I've got something between my legs that's bigger than yours, and if you keep that hand there, I'm gonna bend you over this table and prove it."
He let go.
She kissed him on the cheek, patted his shoulder, and walked away.
The guy sat there, frozen, his face the color of a tomato. One of his friends looked at him.
"What'd she say?"
He didn't answer. His hand was in his lap now.
The friend looked at Ashara walking away, looked back at the bearded guy, and started laughing. Then the whole table was laughing, and then half the bar was laughing, and the bearded guy just sat there, opening and closing his mouth like a fish.
The rest of the shift went smooth. Ashara poured drinks, dodged grabby hands, flirted for tips, and by the time Brenna called last round, her pockets were heavy with silver.
"Good night?" Brenna asked, wiping down the counter.
Ashara dumped her tips on the bar and counted. Sixty-two silver.
"Great night."
"Alright, alright, quit bragging. Get out of here. Same time tomorrow."
"Yes ma'am."
---
Back at the dorm, Ashara sat at her desk with a piece of paper and a pen.
Yuki was out somewhere. Probably staring at a wall. The lamp on the desk cast a warm circle of light across the page, and Ashara chewed on the end of her pen for a minute before she started writing.
Mama,
I know it's been a while. Sorry about that. Things have been busy.
The academy is good. The instructors are tough but they know what they're doing. I've got a combat mentor named Celeste who's teaching me hand-to-hand. She's an A-rank, which is kind of insane. She thinks I've got real potential, which is also kind of insane.
I made friends. Mira's a wolf beastkin, she's loud and shameless and you'd love her. Jesse's a little archer kid who pretends he's tough but eats like a stray cat. There's a girl named Daniela who's from Ironhold and barely talks, but she's a good fighter and she watched my back when it counted.
I went on my first real mission. I won't go into details because I don't want you to worry, but I came back in one piece and I learned a lot. Celeste says I unlocked something new, a way of seeing mana. She's going to help me train it.
I think about you guys every day. Tell Lysa I'm getting stronger. Tell Maren I miss her cooking. Tell Fen to stop stealing my hairpins because I know she's been doing it since I left.
I'm going to make this work, Mama. I promise.
Love,Ashara
She drew a little sketch at the bottom. Ashara in a fighting stance, fists up, one leg back. She gave herself bigger muscles than she actually had and added little action lines around her fists.
[Nailed it.]
She looked at the drawing. It looked like a stick figure having a seizure.
[... Close enough.]
She folded the letter, slipped it into an envelope, and set it aside. She'd send it tomorrow with the next caravan heading south.
She leaned back in her chair and let out a long breath.
"You done?" Mira asked, from under the desk.
"Yeah."
Mira pulled her mouth off Ashara's cock with a wet pop, wiped her lips with the back of her hand, and grinned up at her.
"Cool. Your handwriting's shit, by the way."
"How the fuck could you tell?"
"I imagined it." Mira crawled out from under the desk and stretched, her tail wagging. She looked at the letter. "Also, you drew yourself way too buff. You wish your arms looked like that."
"Get in the bed."
"Yes ma'am."
They collapsed onto Ashara's bed together, Mira tucking herself against Ashara's side with her head on her chest and her leg thrown over her waist. Her tail thumped against the mattress a few times before going still.
Ashara stared at the ceiling. Her body was tired, sore from the shift, sore from the mission, sore from the training, sore from everything. But her head was quiet for the first time in days.
She thought about the letter sitting on her desk. About Delara reading it to the troupe around a campfire. About Lysa's face when she heard Ashara was learning to fight for real.
[I'm getting there.]
Mira's breathing was slowing down, her body going heavy against Ashara's side.
Ashara closed her eyes.
She wasn't scared anymore. She wasn't wondering if she'd made the right call, or if she belonged here, or if she was good enough. She'd killed goblins. She'd fought a shaman. She'd unlocked Mana Sense. She'd made friends, made money, made a life in a city she'd never been to before.
And she was just getting started.
[Tomorrow, we go again.]