“Chandrar. You’ve never seen it before? Popular vegetable. Appears everywhere.”

“I’ve never asked before. Chandrar, huh? Tastes good.”

The man nodded. Cara sighed. Lying was an endemic problem with her. In this world and Earth, really. It was just so handy.

“Good evening, Miss. You’re the [Singer] from this morning, aren’t you?”

Meltain, one of the keep’s best [Warriors], approached with a drink. Cara smiled at him.

“Yes I am. Hello! I have a fiancé.”

His face fell. Cara watched him backtrack instantly.

Lies. They were so helpful. But she felt bad sometimes, about lies to Violetta and Idelt, even by omission. Then again, truth was dangerous too.

She was a bit disconsolate. Or maybe the drink was bringing it on; Cara blinked. She was already halfway through the mug.

“Pace yourself, S—Cara.”

She muttered. She had a habit of speaking to herself at times, especially when drinking. Or when she was upset.

And she was, a bit. It was the nobility thing. All the money she’d earned had come from townsfolk, parents of the children she’d been entertaining—those were coppers. But the real donation had come from Lady Risel through that man, Meltain.

How did Cara feel about that? Well, not great.

Not because Lady Risel seemed evil. But it had been bubbling in her since meeting Lord Lantal. Someone had to say it.

“Down with these sodding [Kings] and [Queens]. Am I right?”

Cara looked around. The tavern didn’t really register her words at first; hers was a low voice among many. But after a second, a few people glanced up. Meltain, the [Bartender], an off-duty [Knight] with a broken arm.

And a brown-haired man with a terrible weight upon his shoulders.

All of them looked around. The [Bartender] eyed Cara.

“Are you well, Miss? I wouldn’t want a fight to start in my tavern. This is a peaceful place.”

“Perfectly. And why wouldn’t I be well? I’m just stating my opinion. [Kings]. [Queens]. Monarchies.

Nobility. Class structure. Who needs it?”

“Perhaps you’d like to slow your drinking?”

Cara blinked at him as she raised the lager for another sip.

“Why? It’s just a beer.”

His eyebrows rose. The [Bartender] put down the Yellat he was chopping up and leaned on the counter.

“Miss. You ordered the Midnight Runoff.”

“So? It’s a beer, right?”

Cara eyed the beer. She realized she was…swaying a bit in her chair. The [Bartender] hesitated.

“Yes…but it’s a Noelictus beer. I assumed you knew from the way you ordered.”

That was what you got for being confident in life. Cara stared at the man.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s about three times as strong as what you might get anywhere else. It’s the barley. Hourglass Barley.

Ferments and absorbs a lot more than usual.”

“Ah.”

Cara raised the mug, then put it down and began chewing on the Yellats.