*Warning. This chapter contains sexual content and graphic depictions of sex in the text. If you do not wish to read, or feel uncomfortable at the material please skip this chapter. You may miss terribly important and crucial plot points, but this is your choice.

A long time ago, when Erin Solstice was still new to the city of Liscor. When she still lived in her first inn, and people had just gotten to know about the odd Human girl who’d appeared outside the city—she’d had a conversation.

It had gone something like this:

“You have not had sex yet. This is a bad thing, yes?”

That had been then, and a young woman had entertained the idea of sexual gratification, dating, and intercourse with her friends, Krshia and Selys. She had even gone on a date.

It had ended poorly, for the would-be suitors. Erin had ended up with a rather interesting collection of dildos. Which had subsequently been destroyed by her undead skeleton. The first time.

It happened. But since that day, the topic had not come up again. And yes, there were more important things in life to focus on. Monster attacks, keeping friends alive. The possibility of war.

And yet, at the same time, it was extraordinary that the topic never came up again. Erin Solstice didn’t lack for friends, of any species or gender. But she discussed bowel movements and periods with more frequency than anything touching on mating—

Sex.

Indeed, what was uncomfortable to many males wasn’t banned in The Wandering Inn. As, case in point, a few days after Erin’s night of glorious fire and celebration, she found herself in the outhouse.

It was a nice outhouse. Rebuilt, refurbished—Lyonette wanted the inn to connect to Liscor’s sewage lines, but for now, the toilets were attended with herbs to cover the smell and cleaned regularly. It was one of the tasks the staff got to do. And the young woman named Erin Solstice was doing her business.

Again, a natural activity. Erin went to the bathroom at least once a day, which was what she considered healthy. But she didn’t talk about it. Still, at this particular time, Erin happened to look down. And her face fell.

“Aw.”

She was on her period. Which wasn’t generally a problem. But…it was if you didn’t have anything like a pad and you really didn’t want to go back indoors with your new underwear and pants. Erin grimaced.

What to do? What to do…as crises went, Erin decided this was a low-level event. After a few minutes of cursing, she began shouting.

“Hey! Hey! Someone get Lyonette!”

After a few seconds, her shouting roused someone. Namely, the Workers on the rooftop. Erin waited, and then Lyonette came out.

“What’s wrong, Erin?”

“Uh…can you get me my pad?”

“Pad? What do—oh.”

It took Lyonette only a fraction of a second to get it. Inside, Erin felt embarrassed, but she went on.

“It’s in my room. Um—I think in the drawers? It’s washed! Sorry, I just—”

“I’ve got it. One second.”

And indeed, a minute later, Erin had relief. Well—in a way. She still felt a bit crummy, but as she left the outhouse and reentered the inn—after washing her hands outside, thankyouverymuch, Erin was chatting to Lyonette.

The morning crowd looked up as the two young women entered the inn and went over to the bar. Not to drink per se, but just to chat.

“I wasn’t keeping count. Yuck. I hate being on my period. I just feel…euragh. You know?”

“…No. Do you mean, cramps? My mother used to have the worst ones.”

Erin frowned.

“Yeah, a bit. But I also get mad a bit more easily.”

“Really? Compared to usual?”

The young woman frowned. She didn’t see a few of the breakfasters looking up, especially some of the Gnolls who had good ears.

“Ha. Ha. I never asked, but um…you get them?”

Lyonette gave Erin a look.

“Yes, Erin. I get them.”

“I’m just checking! Maybe you get a fancy Skill that stops menstruation or whatever. Or…I was wondering if there were any differences because we’re…”

Erin made a wild hand gesture to say ‘from different worlds, and thus having the distinct possibility of some kind of genetic differences from the environments we are raised in, the proximity of magic, and other extraneous and unknown factors.’ The [Princess] just shrugged in reply.

“Actually, I usually take a potion. My entire family does. But we’re like you, Erin. Actually—my bleeding is bad.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Mrsha got worried the first time it happened. But since Octavia’s here, I think I might switch to potions.”

“Potions? Well, I know they stop you bleeding—but do they like, work perfectly? Are there side effects?”

“Mm…not really. You can get a few symptoms, but [Alchemists] are good about it. And it apparently stops you menstruating at all. So the one downside is that sometimes you have a [Lady] or even a [Queen] who has children in her sixties if she’s taken the potion all her life…”

“Whoa. But that’s…well, I guess biologically…wait, do you know about eggs?”

“…Eggs? We’re talking about children, Erin. What are you talking about?”

“Biology! Wait, you don’t know? You don’t know!”

The [Princess] just gave Erin one of her looks.

“Erin, it’s too early for this.”

But the young woman was already excited.

“I need to sit down with you and explain! There’s this thing—inside our bodies. Our, you know, vaginas—and we have eggs—”

She felt a bit embarrassed. The [Princess] was just staring, trying to process the fact that Humans laid eggs. It promised to be an interesting discussion, but a voice growled, interrupting them.

“Excuse me. Do you mind? I’m trying to eat, here!”

A Gnoll looked up from his table. And he was male—that was just a…fact worth noting. Erin and Lyonette turned and looked at him.

“What?”

“Do you mind? I’m having breakfast!”

The Gnoll looked affronted. Lyonette and Erin looked at each other. Both frowned at the guest.

“What’s the matter? It’s just biology!”

“It’s disgusting. Humans bleed from…I can’t.”

He pushed back his morning steak. Erin glowered.

“Hey, Dierr, you don’t like it? It’s what women have to go through! You don’t like hearing about it? How you do think I like blood coming out my—”

Half the diners instantly stopped eating as Lyonette slapped a hand over Erin’s mouth. The young woman hesitated.

“Um—sorry. Maybe it is a bit crude.”

Dierr, who was a regular of Erin’s inn, shook his head a few times.

“Humans. Gnoll women don’t go through that.”

“Yeah? Oh wait, yeah. They don’t.”

Erin recalled a conversation with a female Gnoll. It was true—Gnolls didn’t go through the monthly bleeding process. Neither did Drakes. They had different systems that had evolved in their species. Erin hesitated.

“Well, yeah. Gnolls don’t have periods, but they have um, what’s the term? Estrus? Mating periods. And Krshia told me that when they do, they have the same sort of, y’know…stuff. Coming out of you-know-where. Actually, she told me it can be blood, or brown…”

That did it. Almost every male diner and most of the female ones put down their utensils and had to push their plates back for a second. Lyonette covered her face.

“Erin.”

“I don’t need to hear this!”

Dierr stood up, looking ill and agitated. Erin looked around; some of the guests were doing the same.

“I came here for entertainment, not—that!”

Some of the other regulars were grousing. They weren’t Olesm, or Relc, or Palt or the other big-names that often took part in the inn’s dramas, but…regular diners.

Dierr, an affable [Hunter] who really liked getting his food within a minute of ordering, Menolit, the Drake [Veteran] with half a tail who’d fought in Liscor’s army until being honorably discharged, Ulevissia, a Drake [Mage] who made her entire living making door locks, Fleaears, whose unfortunate name didn’t relate at all to his [Tanner] profession, at least, one hoped—

“I am so sorry. Erin, be quiet. Everyone, please! Let me get you something on the house. Why don’t we all sit and—”

Lyonette rushed around, trying to keep the regulars in their seats. Erin stared around.

“But it’s natural. I mean, okay. I’m sorry I said it out loud. It’s like talking about poo, I guess—”

“Erin!”

The [Princess] snapped at her. Erin shut up as her regulars glared at her. She flushed, and then looked about when she heard a vague, slapping sound.

Temile, and some of the Players of Celum who stayed at Erin’s inn—and the ones who came every day to rehearse—were laughing so hard there wasn’t actually much sound. Just wheezing, painful, choking guffaws, and slapping the table. Temile slowly slid out of his chair as Erin glared at him.

He wasn’t the only one. Mrsha was giggling, even if she didn’t really get all of what had been said. Erin propped her hands on her hips. At least some people were being amused.

“It’s natural!”

“But some things we don’t need to discuss while our guests are eating, Erin. I’ll get Octavia for you; she’s probably asleep still. After another all-nighter at that naked Drake’s lab.”

“Saliss.”

“I know his name. But—dead gods! Can’t he put on clothes?”

“It’d take an army. Anyways, he’s cool.”

“Well, he’s apparently up all night and into the morning! Octavia got back in time for breakfast! Exhausted from making potions all day.”

“Only making potions?”

One of the other regulars quipped as Lyonette went around the inn, doling out a few of the chocolate squares as an apology. Erin saw Menolit, the Drake [Veteran], grinning as he took a square of chocolate. She frowned at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The Drake stared at her. Menolit was scarred, and half of his tail was missing, owing to his service in Liscor’s army. He was touchy about the tail, but Erin liked him and he liked being here—partly because Humans didn’t care as much about the tail.

“Thank you, Miss Lyonette. Er—Miss Solstice, if a young woman’s out with a fellow all night, you don’t think it’s all making potions…?”

He waggled his brows and grinned. Erin gave him a blank look for a second, and then blinked.

“Wha—oh! Hey! No way. That would never—no way. I mean—Saliss wouldn’t—he’s teaching—right?”

She looked at Lyonette, flustered. The [Princess] looked up, absently.

“What? No, I doubt it. And if she is—who cares?”

“But…”

“He’s the best [Alchemist] in the city. Saliss of Lights. I mean, you know there’re other apprenticeships that work that way. A young [Alchemist], does favors for a master…”

Menolit said it matter-of-factly. Erin just looked at him.

“Menolit!”

“What?”

The Drake looked at her. Erin pointed at Mrsha, flushing.

“There are kids here! Don’t talk about s-e-x!”

Mrsha immediately began trying to spell the word out. Menolit gave Erin a long look as his lips moved.

“What, sex? Miss Solstice, it’s natural. I’m not judging. Someone wants to spice things up with that Drake, be my guest. I wish he’d put on pants too, but the Drake’s got spirit.”

“That’s not all he has. Although between you and me, I’d have expected a Named Adventurer to be better.”

Ulevissia quipped. There was laughter and people relaxed. Erin on the other hand—was flushing.

“Hey! Enough! That’s enough. Let’s not get…weird, here.”

She waved her hands, and the laughter died down as Erin pushed a bit with her ability to control the mood in the inn. It was fairly subtle, for her. But Lyonette noticed, as did Temile and a few [Actors]; their classes made them sensitive to such things.

And a few others. At her table, Selys Shivertail looked up from a morning gossip session with Drassi. She hadn’t really partaken of the conversation so far—because she was trying to eat breakfast too—but now she frowned at Erin, vaguely. As the [Innkeeper] argued with Menolit and then went around the room, chatting with her regulars, Selys paused.

“Hey, Selys, Drassi. How’s it going?”

“I’m off-duty! I don’t start for another hour. Hi, Erin.”

Drassi announced hurriedly. Erin waved that off, although the comment was more aimed at Lyonette than the self-proclaimed ‘cool boss’. Selys smiled as Erin sat down.

“Hi, Erin. Rough morning?”

“You know me, spitting blood, shooting it out of my crotch—I keep forgetting Drakes and Gnolls don’t have periods.”

Erin sighed. Selys and Drassi looked at each other.

“Well, we have our problems, Erin. You don’t have dead scales.”

“You don’t have ingrown hairs or split ends.”

“Point.”

The three females grinned at each other. It was a longstanding practice of species to practice the game of ‘who had the most bodily issues’ with each other. Erin sat down as Selys glanced at Drassi.

“So…well, you’ve told us all about your monthlies. Feeling okay?”

“Yeah. It’s not bad today. I mean, you know…I could use a warm compress or something. That really helps. But maybe I’ll talk to Octavia when she wakes up. Potions are handy.”

“No arguments there!”

Drassi grinned. The [Gossip] and [Bartender] looked in fine form today. But then, she was enjoying her new class and position serving alcohol. And she’d certainly had enough work these last few days.

Ever since the night of glory and fire. These days, the pink flame was carefully kept burning in a concealed, controlled lantern. The same one Erin had used for the blue flames of sadness. Sometimes it went out if you didn’t feed it, but Erin could always conjure the fire again.

Anyways, at the moment Selys had just come in for her gossip session with one of her best friends. Best two friends, really. The young Human woman smiled as Selys offered her some fried dumplings. Palt had made them; the Centaur wasn’t in today, but he would be, no doubt. Selys gave Erin a side-long look.

“We were just talking about recent events. Speaking of which…are you worried about Octavia?”

“What? No. I mean, a bit. Saliss is like…I mean, I think he’s a good guy. But Octavia shouldn’t be…y’know? When she’s learning from him? That’s weird, right?”

Erin looked awkward as she danced around the subject. Drassi scratched at the spines on her neck.

“Madly having sex in their laboratory all night long?”

The [Innkeeper] choked on her bite. Selys snorted and had to pound on Erin’s back. She was assisted by a flying kick from Mrsha. Erin coughed up the food stuck in her airways and rubbed at her back.

“Ow. Thank you, Mrsha. Drassi!”

“What? Unless—do you think they’re being kinky? Like—I dunno, you hear stories.”

“Drassi!”

“Like what?”

Selys leaned over as Mrsha leapt up onto the table and swiped a dumpling. Drassi grinned.

“You know Stitch-People. I hear they can switch out body parts and do a lot of crazy things. And they can repair their bodies, so they can get rough. Like—have you heard the stories about how the male ones can have huge, things? And some Drakes—and Gnolls!—want to know how it feels. But you can tear—”

“Drassi! Mrsha is right there!”

Erin shouted. Mrsha recoiled as Erin pointed at her. Drassi looked at Selys. The [Heiress] was nodding.

“Don’t be vulgar, Drassi.”

“You know you’d try it.”

“Mrsha’s just a kid. Mrsha, go over there. And I don’t think Octavia’s sleeping with Saliss, Erin. But if she is…well, I don’t think [Alchemists] are that different. If Saliss was a high-level [Warrior], now—Drassi?”

The [Gossip] was nodding as Mrsha was ushered off the table. Erin practically hurried her over to Lyonette.

“[Alchemists] are kinky, Selys. Kinky. Potions. Sex.”

“Oh. But how would you know?”

“I dated a few of Liscor’s [Alchemists]. They’re low-level, but they still make stamina potions. And that’s—”

“Hey.”

Erin slapped her hands down on the table. Selys and Drassi started, looked at her. Erin was flushing and glaring at the two of them.

“This isn’t appropriate for the morning, you know? Mrsha’s here, and she has good ears. Right?”

She looked from face to face. And Erin Solstice, who had happily pontificated on the issue of periods in front of the entire room, looked…awkward. Selys and Drassi blinked at each other.

And they both had the same thought again. The two engaged in a sub-vocal argument, and in the end, Selys lost. She looked at Erin.

“Erin…why don’t you have a seat?”

“I’m not gonna sit if you two are going to be weird—”

“Have a seat, come on.”

The two practically pushed Erin into a seat. The [Innkeeper] looked at the two of them.

“What? What?”

Selys took a breath. She remembered that conversation from a while ago. She hadn’t given it a lot of thought, but now…she looked at Erin.

“So…have you had sex recently?”

Erin froze. Dierr glanced up from his seat and pretended to be interested in his steak again. A Centaur, opening the door to the common room, halted in his tracks. Montressa and Beza ran into Palt’s behind, but the Centaur motioned them back.

The young woman paused.

“What? What sort of question is that?”

“…A normal one?”

Selys raised a brow. Erin looked at her friend, and then at Drassi.

“Seems sort of personal, right?”

“I dunno. We’re friends. Drassi’s not gonna spill it, Erin.”

“[Gossip]’s honor. But yeah, have you had a good one recently, Erin?”

“Hey now. I really don’t feel like—”

“Krshia told me she doesn’t think you’ve masturbated all month. And she said that last month. And the month before that. Erin—do you have a problem? Because there’s a potion for that.”

The two female friends stared at Erin. The [Innkeeper] stood up. Her face was beet red.

“Krshia said—? I don’t need to take this!”

She began to storm off, but the two Drakes grabbed her arms and towed her back. It was hard; Erin had [Lesser Strength].

“Erin, come on!”

“We’re not judging—”

“You aren’t, Drassi? I am.”

“Hey! Let go of—”

Erin found herself sitting at the table, held captive…well, not really. But the two Drakes were looking at her seriously. Selys had to go first.

“Erin…do you think maybe you’re being a bit…prudish?”

“About se—about the thing? Yes! Especially with a kid around!”

Drassi glanced at Mrsha.

“But she knows about sex, Erin. Gnoll kids do.”

“What? She’s far too young to—”

“She’s a Gnoll, Erin. She lived in a tribe. She has a nose and ears. All Gnoll kids know about sex when they’re young. What’s wrong?”

The young woman from Earth opened and closed her mouth. Drassi just blinked at her innocently.

No—not even innocently. She just looked blank. What was the problem here? Erin hesitated.

“Well—okay. But it’s still not something we need to talk about, right?”

“Not if we don’t want to. But seriously, Erin. Are you…stressed? Because if Krshia’s right—”

“I’m fine!”

“So you do use the dildos she says she keeps giving you?”

Erin was practicing her guppy impersonations. Her mouth kept opening and shutting.

“I—don’t have to answer that!”

Selys looked serious.

“Erin, we’re not judging. It’s normal. But seriously—you talk about periods and using the outhouse and you get nervous about the idea of sex?”

“I’m totally fine with it! Anyone can have sex! Relc had sex just the other day! I think!”

Erin threw her hands up. Drassi leaned over.

“Really? With who? That Garuda [Guardswoman]?”

“It’s private! He didn’t need to tell me and I didn’t need to ask!”

Erin glared at Drassi, trying to forget she’d been bugging Relc about that exact thing. Selys raised her brows.

“Good for Relc. He deserves it. Poor guy would have trouble with Drake women, although he’s popular even if he’s a bit…”

“Ugly?”

“Drassi, be nice.”

“I’m not being mean! I like Relc! I’d give him a try if I thought it wouldn’t make things weird.”

Sometimes Erin didn’t understand Drake aesthetics. Relc looked fine to her. But she found the conversation pivoting back to her again.

“All I’m saying is that I have no problem with Relc hooking up, Erin. It’s natural. Nothing to be ashamed of, even if Embria objects. Well…she is his daughter.”

Selys paused. Erin fidgeted.

“I know that. And I’m not judging.”

“Good. So…have you had sex at all since the last time Krshia and I talked to you?”

“I don’t need to answer that.”

“…Have you masturbated?”

“Selys.”

“Erin, I think you might be stressed.”

“Pent up.”

“It’s okay to want to have a good time.”

“Roll around on the carpet with some fun guy. Oh wait, Humans get rug-burns.”

“Even relieve yourself now and then.”

“Hey, can Humans use their hands? I’ve been debating with some of my friends about that. Because we have claws with you know, talons. And if you slip—”

“Drassi, please.”

The [Gossip] subsided, but she and Selys both looked amused. Erin did not want to be at the table with them. She folded her arms, like a bulwark against all things erotic.

“It’s personal.”

Selys recognized the signs of a stubborn Erin coming on. She rolled her eyes, exasperated.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, fine. But we’re just talking to you—as friends—about whether you’re happy. Honestly. We wouldn’t want to do anything. But if you’re frustrated…”

That was all she said. And she gave Erin a serious look. So much so that the [Innkeeper] realized that Selys wasn’t making fun of her. Not really. Erin slowly uncrossed her arms.

“I…well…it’s not necessary.”

“No, but it’s fun.”

“You could get pregnant.”

“From a Drake or Gnoll, Erin? And there are potions for that. Actually—I think I have my answer. Dead gods. How long has it been, six months? That’s a long time for…and nothing else?”

“Wow.”

Drassi gave Erin an almost admiring look. The [Innkeeper] didn’t like the look. She glared, went on the offensive.

“Well, what about you, Selys? Have you had sex? Or you, Drassi?”

The two Drakes blinked. They looked at each other. Drassi paused, and then shrugged.

“Well, I lost my last boyfriend during a fight two weeks back, but I’m not hurting for company, you know? I’m fine.”

“And I had sex yesterday. In my apartments.”

Selys stared at Erin. The young woman blinked.

“What?”

“It was good. And yes—we knew each other. But it’s not serious. But I enjoyed it, and so did he—which is why we got together. Well…and we see each other more often because of my position. He actually came by to talk about it.”

“Wh—but—Selys! What about Pisces?”

The [Heiress] looked at Erin. And this time, it was a long look. And somehow—not as amused or exasperated as she’d been before.

“What about him?”

Erin felt like she was treading on dangerous ground all of a sudden. But she didn’t know why.

“Well…I thought you and him were a thing. You know? You said you liked him, and you two were always talking, arguing. And you had that kiss under the mistletoe, and you told me you thought he wasn’t that bad. So I thought…”

Drassi’s head slowly turned towards Selys and her stare said that her friend had said nothing of the sort to her. Selys flushed. But she’d invited this. She took a breath, and then nodded, as the scales in her cheeks darkened a bit.

“I said that, Erin. But we haven’t done anything. Literally, nothing besides that kiss, and that was for a dare. I like Pisces.”

“Yeah. So…”

“So what?”

There was an edge in Selys’ voice. Erin hesitated.

“But if you like—”

“He hasn’t said anything to me. And I haven’t said anything to him. We’re both adults, Erin. Not engaged or anything. Should I be sitting here, saving my chastity like a—like a Human [Princess] while I pine for him?”

Across the inn, Lyonette slipped as she cleaned a table. Erin turned red. Selys’ voice had a note of real contempt.

“No. I just thought you liked him. So…”

That was all. Selys relented.

“I…might. But I’m not expected to wait for him, am I? And I can have fun, right? Honestly, Erin. You sound like…”

She bit her tongue before she said something actually hurtful. Erin sounded a bit like some of the old Drakes who scolded the young, promiscuous ones. Not Selys’ grandmother; Tekshia had only told Selys that she wasn’t allowed to get pregnant before she turned twenty.

But it was strange. Strange indeed, that Erin Solstice was so…awkward. And Selys looked at her friend and sighed.

“Sorry, Erin. I’m not mad. But…have you never thought about it?”

The young woman looked past Selys. And Palt silently trotted into the inn. And the Centaur pulled out a cigar and considered his moves. Numbtongue wandered out of the garden where he’d been playing music. And the young woman was just…conscious of those facts.

“I…”

“You know, Culyss still likes you. Even after getting beaten up by all the Goblins. You never really told me what that was about.”

The young woman blinked. She remembered the Drake. Selys looked at Erin.

“Tell you what, Erin. You don’t have to do anything. I feel bad about introducing you to Culyss before you were…well, you know. But why don’t I introduce you to…my friend? You know him, anyways. He’s coming by later. I mean…just so you know I’m fine talking about it.”

She sighed, a bit embarrassed. Erin stared at her friend.

“I do? Wait…is it…”

Her eyes went round. Selys rolled her eyes as Drassi leaned forwards with a [Gossip] and a [Bartender]’s instincts for juicy tidbits.

It was truly odd. But it was natural. She just wondered if Erin was shy. Or maybe she hadn’t ever been in a relationship. Selys thought Erin had said she had done it at least once, but maybe…she’d had a bad experience. The Drake shook her head.

It was natural. Why was everyone so hung up on it? But then—this was the perspective of someone who had grown up with a former adventurer for a parental figure. Tekshia…didn’t have the same views as some Drakes her age. And Drassi was everyone’s friend.

Maybe it really was different for Humans? But then, that was the nature of carnality. Some people took to it more than others, and others saw it as deviant, or special, or…awkward. But it definitely happened. Even if people didn’t always talk about it.

So what was the problem?

—-

Sex. Ulvama brushed a sweaty strand of hair off her face. She was having sex.

Intercourse, mating, procreation…she straddled a sweaty Hobgoblin and grinned in the dim lighting of the hut. Raidpear, Hobgoblin, member of the Redfang Tribe, and a member of the Solstice Goblin group within the lands of the Unseen Empire, grunted. Ulvama grinned down at him and increased her tempo.

“Good? Good?”

Her voice was teasing, challenging, even. Which meant Raidpear metaphorically and physically stiffened at the taunt.

“Fine.”

He grunted. The two were engaged in copulation, another good word. And both were enjoying themselves. Ulvama slowed and squeezed—the Hobgoblin groaned and the [Shaman] smiled.

She enjoyed what she did. And to Ulvama, her job, her class, and position as [Shaman] necessitated having sex. She had explained it to Pebblesnatch, once.

Sex was power. It was influence, and it was necessary. That was why Ulvama had actively sought out and formed a relationship with the strongest Goblin among the Solstice Tribe. The [Shaman] might have gone after Leafarmor, the female Hob, but it was also her opinion that males were easier.

Abruptly, the [Shaman] switched positions. She leaned down, so the two’s faces were close. The intimacy made Raidpear shudder. And the [Shaman] fed off both the pleasure, the control—and the magic. Her painted tattoos glowed in the darkness. She was enjoying herself, but—she didn’t like Raidpear.

Or rather, she enjoyed his company. She certainly enjoyed this, and she had few objections to Raidpear as a fellow Goblin.

But that was the extent of Ulvama’s emotions. Sex was a type of currency to her, a give and take. It was not like that for everyone.

Raidpear probably understood that, or guessed on some level their relationship wasn’t born of mutual attraction. But he was a Redfang, and casual dalliance came easily to their tribe, who lived and died with each battle. It was a good position for Ulvama; he wouldn’t grow touchy if she ended things.

Still—she was using her knowledge to manipulate him. Like taunting the Redfang; their tribe didn’t like losing, or running away from a challenge.

“Now? Now?”

She laughed as she methodically moved. Raidpear gritted his teeth.

“No.”

It was a contest. But the [Shaman] had already won, no matter who ‘beat’ the other in this match. Indeed—Ulvama threw back her head, and Raidpear finally released. The two panted. And the Hobgoblin Redfang looked triumphant. Ulvama laughed. Her crimson eyes flashed as she embraced him, not without affection.

“Again?”

Her fingers moved as she whispered a little spell. Raidpear made a deep sound in his throat. Instantly, he rose to action, and stared at Ulvama. She got off him and moved down the cot, gliding downwards. The two Hobs were caught up in each other. Raidpear hissed—

And then they both saw the flash of light as one of the watching Goblins shifted in the tent’s opening. Ulvama and Raidpear whirled. They saw about ten younger Goblins, six male, four female, all staring at them.

Young Goblins. Cave Goblins, some of the Mountain City Tribe, the Flooded Plains—no Redfangs, but they were a small group—all staring at the two. They paused as Ulvama’s eyes narrowed.

“Out!”

Raidpear roared. The Goblins started. Ulvama was faster. The [Shaman] leaned down, snatched up some of the soil at the bottom of the primitive hut, and blew the handful at the voyeurs.

The dust and grit swirled at the young Goblins. They shouted in pain as it covered their skin and stung, burning and itching. They fled, and Ulvama glared.

“Stupid young Goblins.”

She grumbled, and Raidpear laughed. The humor broke the moment of intense passion Ulvama was going for, and the [Shaman] was put out. But that didn’t stop them.

Indeed, they were so noisy at times that one night, Pebblesnatch had run in with a bucket of water and thrown it at them. But Goblins had sex. That was what they did. In fact…they were pretty good at it. And Ulvama, a self-styled master, bared her teeth in the shadowed hut.

A few Goblins peeked back inside as she got to work re-establishing the mood. They were hit by Raidpear’s codpiece.

—-

Sex. There were masters of it. Some used it as recreation, others for a goal—some to manipulate, seeking intimacy. It was only all-consuming for some, but it was interesting how it factored into people’s lives. It could be as significant as a full night’s sleep in changing how a day went. Well—the two didn’t always go hand in hand.

But it mattered. And yes—to some more than others.

“I want to have sex! I want to have sex! I swear, I’m going to lock your muscles down if we don’t have sex!”

A voice shouted in Geneva Scala’s head. The [Doctor], the battlefield surgeon, the woman known to some as the Last Light of Baleros, hope of the dying [Soldiers] everywhere, paused.

“Okasha.”

“I don’t care what you say! We haven’t had it once! I have needs! I’m not like you! I can’t control the body unless you’re asleep and you have to rest and I’m…”

There was a sob from inside Geneva’s head. Well, rather, Okasha was projecting her tiny voice directly into Geneva’s eardrums. But it felt like it was literally inside her head.

“I’m sorry, okay? But it’s frustrating. I feel like a prisoner.”

“I’m…sorry.”

The [Doctor] paused. She was in her personal quarters, in the United Nations headquarters. And she was preparing her field-kit, her bag of medicines, experimental poultices, surgical tools, and so on.

She was about to make a house call. But the [Doctor], one of the people from Earth in Baleros, the continent of mercenaries, and war, was more extraordinary than even the other members of the United Nations company, designed to find and protect people from their world.

She had a secret. And that was that Geneva Scala was paralyzed. Or she should be. A long while ago, a few months now, she had been struck by a mace. Her spine had been…shattered.

A terrible blow. Not just one you could hope to repair either; the blow had done more damage than Geneva could calculate; she’d inspected the wound with a mirror and Okasha’s help, but she suspected that even in her world, she might have been paralyzed but for the most experimental and cutting edge medical technologies.

She would have been helpless. But—Okasha had saved her. The Selphid, a member of the parasitic species that could control bodies’ nervous systems had entered Geneva’s body with her permission. And the two had become something new.

A Selphid living in a living body. Something anathema to the entire world. With Okasha, Geneva could move. And not only that—the two could work together. Okasha could even boost Geneva’s body past its limits. And because Geneva was alive, she could heal damage done, even use her Skills while Okasha used hers.

They were two souls and one body. But they were not alike. Geneva had gotten used to her roommate. They had their quarrels, but Okasha had given up much to be Geneva’s shadow.

Still—when differences emerged, they could be tricky. And at the moment—Okasha was vocally unhappy.

“I’m frustrated. I know you are, no matter how much you try to hide it.”

“I’m not—”

Geneva opened her mouth, and closed it. It was hard to argue with someone in your nervous system.

“I could tell yesterday. You were aroused right after dinner! But you never do anything. You just drink and work and drink and work and drink and then you work some more! You don’t stop!”

“We are dealing with a crisis, Okasha. There is a plague beginning in Baleros. And it will spread.”

The [Doctor] was tired. She had indeed been working all day and night. She snapped at Okasha.

“The Yellow Rivers disease is growing in infectious cases and no one but you, me, and the United Nations company is taking it seriously. People do not want to talk about it—and there is no cure!”

“It’s gross. I’m used to bodies, but I don’t know how you can touch them—”

Geneva grimaced. The Yellow Rivers infection, which was a sexually-transmitted disease, was indeed…nasty. Even by the standards of someone in the medical field. And they were used to a lot of horrible things the body could do. But the yellow pus and the open wound the infection caused in the genital regions that spread so quickly along with the smell…

It was a good thing that Okasha could stem Geneva’s gag reflex, and keep her from vomiting. Because even Aiko and the other aspiring [Nurses] and [Doctors] that Geneva had added to her clinic had trouble tending to the patients. But Geneva Scala was tackling the patients—and she had over a hundred of them since the original two had appeared in Quallet Marshhand’s company.

The [Doctor] knew it was going to get worse. But she’d been up for…well, only thirty-two hours. She said as much and Okasha shouted in her head.

“You drink stamina potions like water! It’s not healthy! I’m the one making sure your organs are working! If it wasn’t for me, your lower intestine would be gone!”

“And I’m grateful, really. But Okasha, I have to keep working. If I don’t—”

“‘People die, Hippocratic Oath, I’m Geneva Scala, Last Light of Baleros. If I don’t do something, no one will’. Blah, blah! I’ve heard it!”

The Italian [Doctor] winced. She didn’t sound like…

“I’m sorry. But I don’t have any tools from my world, or antibiotics or medicine. So I have to work myself hard. We can sleep after this.”

“And have sex.”

“Okasha. Have you not seen the Yellow Rivers infection? This isn’t the time for—”

“Wear a condom! You made them and they work! You can spot the infection! Wear one! Find someone! I know you like some of the people around you! Or—we can go to your room, and…”

“No.”

“Geneva, I am going to throw your body at the nearest breathing person if I don’t get something to have fun with.”

The [Doctor] grimly considered the Selphid’s threat. Okasha could and would override Geneva’s nervous systems in dire situations, but this sounded like a threat. And Geneva’s understanding of the Selphid suggested that Okasha might actually be at risk of breaking down.

“…Okay. I’ll look into it.”

“Really? You promise? Swear?”

Okasha raised Geneva’s right arm, which she often got to control. Geneva saw and felt her right hand extend a pinky.

It was odd, pinky-swearing with herself. The [Doctor] sighed, already regretting it. How was she going to…?

Well, there were no shortage of male Humans from Earth in the United Nations company…or in the city they were in, Talenqual. But Geneva did not want to proposition say…Dawson, and deal with the consequences. It would be like, well, sleeping with someone in your company. And that led to problems.

Ideally, she’d have asked someone like…Ken. Or Luan, if he wasn’t married. Someone who could be discreet and whom it wasn’t risky to deal with. But Ken was involved with that Lizardwoman—or had they broken up?

The United Nations company was certainly not celibate, by and large. And many relationships occurred outside of the group, because of the friction it caused when couples formed or broke up. But it was mostly casual, and Geneva thought it was positive as long as everyone wore protection, which she’d lectured them at length about. With visual aids on the Yellow Rivers issue.

She was reluctant to call it an epidemic yet, or a pandemic, but Geneva Scala feared…that this disease was magical in nature. If so—it could become a worldwide issue quickly.

But no one was listening. No one with the power to change things. Maybe her scheduled visit to the Academy with the Titan of Baleros…? Geneva’s head hurt.

So much to do. Where was she? Oh yes. Sex. She had to have sex with someone. Geneva tried to remember her days in medical school. She’d hooked up. Although when you were thrown into the fire and you were working all day—that sometimes killed your sex drive. But she remembered enjoying it.

It hadn’t been a concern since she’d come to this world. Since she’d become a [Doctor] and measured her days in lives saved and lost. Geneva supposed she’d just have to do it to keep Okasha from going insane. It had to be hard, being her.

So…not Ken. And Geneva wasn’t keen on a female partner. Not her wheelhouse. That would have left Daly usually. But—

Daly and his bombs. Geneva felt a flash of fury. Her breathing quickened and she nearly dropped the experimental disinfectant.

“Careful!”

Okasha spoke with Geneva’s mouth. She caught the vial with the [Rogue]’s agility. And Geneva felt her fury abate, almost magically.

“I’m making you calm. Calm, Geneva! Be happy! Think about sex!”

“Not with Daly.”

Geneva muttered, but Okasha was manipulating her brain, releasing endorphins, getting rid of the adrenaline spike. It sometimes frightened Geneva, how casually the Selphid could do that. But Okasha respected boundaries. If not, she wouldn’t be begging to have sex. Or…was she manipulating Geneva on a deeper level?

No, don’t think of that. Think of…sex. Geneva sighed.

“I’ll find someone. Tonight, Okasha. Stop flooding my system.”

The building sense of arousal vanished.

“Sorry.”

“I’ll ask about it. Ironically, we’re going to a good place to ask.”

Geneva Scala sighed. Okasha paused.

“I slept through part of your day. What was it again?”

The [Doctor] grimly hefted her field bag.

“We’re paying a visit to the brothel. The owner wants to make sure her clients and her workers aren’t infected.”

“Oh. Ew.”

—-

It was everywhere. Sex! The urges of copulation! Like a disease!

Honestly, it was. But if it wasn’t focused on all the time—it occurred. As rarely as a period? More often? Less? It did vary. But sometimes, when it did occur…it could change everything.

In an inn, a half-Elf was considering just how it would change her team’s dynamics. But—it was time. Her skin glistened with her bath water. She had a fragrance on. And…she was nervous?

She knew who was going to come through that door. This wasn’t her room. But she’d walked into it, fresh from her bath, and she was ready to make a mistake. If it was a mistake. Probably? Yes? No?

She was a bit…intoxicated. But the half-Elf was ready. Dead gods, she was. So she prepared as she heard the heavy steps coming down the hallway, pausing, leaving the clamor in the common room behind.

The half-Elf lowered her half-naked form over the inn’s bedspread. After a moment, she lay on her front, tugging the towel up to just cover her breasts. She adopted a languorous, sensual pose and faced towards the door. A subtle fragrance hung in the air that she’d worked on for ten minutes to get just right.

The air was hot. Expectant. And the glimmer of sweat on the half-Elf’s skin was…illuminating…in the half-shaded room. As the door opened and the half-Elf [Mage] looked up, a soft, lilting tune began to play, almost unheard.

The scene was set. Falene Skystrall looked up as the footsteps paused outside of the door and—

“Hey, half-Elf! Ylawes is drunk. He said you wanted to talk. Mind if I dump—”

Dawil kicked the door open. The Dwarf paused and stared as Falene blinked up from her sensual pose on the bed. He had Ylawes over one shoulder; the groaning [Knight]’s head was in danger of hitting the floor.

He stared at Falene. She stared back. The half-Elf immediately reached for her towel and covered her breasts. Dawil’s jaw worked as the Dwarf and member of the Silver Swords stared at his companion.

“Uh.”

“Get out.”

Dawil paused, and then his face broke into a huge grin. He laughed at Falene as she tried to cover herself up; Ylawes was barely conscious as he stumbled over to the bed.

“You pervert! He’s only a boy! Barely twenty seven!”

“Get out!”

The Dwarf roared with laughter as Falene raised her arms. He ran for it, still shouting with laughter.

“Poor lad can’t even catch a break with a grandmother thrice his age after him! Hah! Hey! No [Fireball]! No—”

—-

“So—you’re telling me it’s natural for two girls to…have sex?”

Fierre looked at Ryoka. The young woman shifted uncomfortably. They were sitting in Fierre’s office. The desk lay between them. Ryoka had suggested it because it beat her room, which would invariably lead to them sharing a bed.

But she’d brought it up because no one in this world besides…people from Earth really knew about sexuality. At all. Maybe they existed—no, Ryoka suspected they surely did. But they were in a pre-acceptance era, and that was compared to Earth. Pre-understanding, even.

“Yeah. So—it’s normal. Just a different perspective. Some girls like guys. Some guys like guys. Some girls are actually guys and they were all along. It’s…I’m going to use some terminology here, so it’s complex, okay, Fierre? But the point is…”

Ryoka trailed off. She looked at Fierre. And she paused.

It was…an awkward scene. Fierre was leaning over the desk. And she was looking at Ryoka like a piece of meat. And blood. Which was, to Vampires, pretty damn amorously.

But did she like Ryoka? Did Ryoka like girls? Well, the answer was ‘depends’, both ways. Ryoka had had these moments with Fierre before. And the young woman thought it was a mix of things.

It could be interest. Or that the two were the only two who shared Fierre’s secret, that Ryoka liked immortals and Fierre wanted to drink blood, and that the two understood each other and they were alone. And Fierre could be charming Ryoka with her eyes.

But she probably didn’t need to. And Ryoka…thought of Belavierr. Of the [Witches]. And she opened her eyes. And her tone was steady.

“It’s about being okay, Fierre. With who you are. Nothing’s wrong about any way you are.”

She met the Vampire’s eyes. And some of the ardor behind the red irises faded. Some of the teasing, too. Fierre sat back and nodded.

“Tell me. You said the Lord of the Dance was…what was it? Homosexual?”

“Or gay. Terminology, again. Homosexual is the term used to describe feelings of sexual attraction to one’s own gender. But he could also be straight, or heterosexual, but just open to dancing with other guys. Which I’ll grant you, is odd in Terandria…”

Fierre was making notes. The informant and letter opener and information broker was at least good at understanding new things.

“Very odd in Terandria. But go on.”

“I don’t want to assume. But let’s start with terms. There’s homosexuality, heterosexuality, bisexuality, as three broad concepts. But it’s not one thing or another. It varies. And there’s the concept of transgender people, people who enjoy cross-dressing sexuality as a spectrum…”

The young woman wanted to talk about this right—even though she wasn’t an expert. And it was…important information. Fierre’s eyes glittered with the pleasure of acquiring new and valuable information. But she also was looking at Ryoka’s…

Throat. Which was about as uncomfortable as a guy staring at her breasts, when you got down to it. Different purposes, but the same general intent. Both wanted to put something in you—although Fierre also wanted to take something out too. The Vampire girl paused.

“What was it when two girls liked each other? Did you say…homosexual applies?”

“Yes. Well, there are other terms. It could be bisexuality, curiosity…the colloquial term is lesbian…or gay as a catch-all…”

“And how would two—girls—make love? I mean, the parts…well, I guess there are ways. Do you know about that too?”

Ryoka paused. She stared at Fierre.

“Well, yeah. We can get into that.”

She hesitated. She had a definite feeling that this moment, this…intimate scene with the two in the locked, secure, ‘you couldn’t break in with a small army if you tried or hear what goes on in there’ room, might escalate.

And Ryoka could have run at any moment if she wanted to, or shut it down. But did she want to?

She had needs. And Fierre…Ryoka needed a new term for someone who had an immortal fetish. Immortaphilia. But then again—why did they have to be so stupidly sexy?

Vampire teeth. Ryoka didn’t know if she wanted this. But she was pretty sure she was staying because she was uncertain. She paused.

“Let’s go over from the top. From a biological perspective…”

—-

Fierre was not the only person asking about sex that day. Nor was Ryoka the only one giving out an explanation. But hers was willingly. Others found the task of explaining the birds and the bees and the way they had intercourse especially if they were kinky, an…awkward task.

“Master, what is sex?”

Az’kerash, the Necromancer, master of the undead, and former Archmage of Wistram, looked up. Bea was sitting in front of him, as was her wont. When he allowed it, his Chosen hung about him, like flies attracted to rotting meat.

Although, it was notable, Bea was never surrounded by flies. Or by the living, for long. She had recently been out on one of his assignments, and she had come back with this question on her lips.

“Sex?”

“Yes, Master.”

Az’kerash didn’t blink, or hesitate, as many a parent would when faced with the question. He had created Bea, but he was a rational [Mage], and he had stripped out lesser emotions long ago.

“A biological imperative that allows for reproduction and entertainment of sorts. It takes many forms. If some try to accost you, fulfill your roles as I have taught you.”

Bea nodded. That was easy. She could, like Venitra, and Kerash and Ijvani, blend into society at a moment’s notice. She could even simulate sex—until her partner expired. That wasn’t the question.

“But master, why do people want to do it?”

“Entertainment, Bea. Is this necessary? You know many biological functions of the living are incomprehensible to you.”

Miffed, but amused, Az’kerash moved a strand of Bea’s hair. She smiled, leaning into the gesture. And she was more like a child than the woman’s body she possessed in that moment. Part child, part creation, part undead.

Her eyes glowed faintly in the half light—Az’kerash was studying a bidding war over Saliss’ Youth Potion, a rare item that went on the market and always precipitated a huge bidding battle. He was half of a mind to buy it. It was useless to him, but…Az’kerash well understood the allure to many.

Bea watched her creator for a second. Then she had to go on.

“But master, do you want to have sex with me? I heard [Necromancers] do that. And sometimes, [Golem Artificers]. Is that true?”

“Zelkyr believed in creating perfection that it might serve him. Adorn him. And yes, he believed in creating what he desired. I never did. You were never made for that. Never.”

“Because you don’t want to?”

Az’kerash nodded. And his dark eyes and white pupils were tired.

“I left it behind with my life, Bea. But Zelkyr believed in creating one who would love him as no other had in this world, before or since. Was it wrong? Did he make a [Slave] dressed in stone, or did they love him beyond what he had simply made them to be? I asked Cognita, once. And she told me it was love that bound her as much as spell. But I do not know where the answer lay. Zelkyr loved his three most perfect creations, and he loved magic and craft more than any woman.”

“Because they were better at it?”

The question made Az’kerash smile. Another, living man might have guffawed. It was fleeting, but he did smile.

“Perhaps. But regardless, he and I differed. His creations loved him and he experienced the pleasures of flesh. But Bea–they withered on him. In time, he began to hunger for something more than fleeting joy. He looked at his wondrous creations, beheld their flaws as they withered, and one was—broken.”

“In Rhir.”

The Necromancer paused.

“Yes. He and I beheld…our imperfections. And thereafter, Zelkyr forsook love. He pursued something greater than Truestone, the height of his creation. He and I. But the difference is, I never had his desires.”

“But you loved. Do you not love us?”

Bea looked upset. Az’kerash bent and kissed her on the forehead again, as he did sometimes. But never on the lips, which Bea knew now was…different.

“Never. Can I love something I know too completely, Bea? I love you like part of myself. But can I love that in a carnal way?”

Bea opened her mouth. Az’kerash put a finger to her lips.

“I do not wish an answer. Let us understand only this.”

He closed his eyes, and paused a moment. Part of his fragmented mind came together, for an answer.

“Love is painful, Bea. I found immortality. My old friend…I do not think he did. I do not think so. And he and I both found love a painful thing, even though one of us trusted to the love we found in others, and another to the love he fashioned, that was eternal. It is not something I need now, grasping immortality. Part of it is simply biological and I…”

He touched his body and Bea understood.

“Yes, master. But…the woman I killed said it was more than that.”

“Oh yes. More, so much you do not need to know, Bea. Sex is not love. But one goes hand in hand with the other. I loved a woman like no other. And she died.”

Bea went still. Az’kerash looked at her face and she remembered a sight she was not supposed to see.

“Do you miss her, Master?”

“When I think of her, yes. But it would be poorer to forget, even after a century’s passing.”

And he looked at her face. Bea bowed her head, afraid to ask more.

Az’kerash sighed.

“Ijvani is coming soon. And she has brought a…gift. Come, Bea. Talk no more of sex.”

“Yes, Master. I have only one question, please?”

“Ask.”

“Why do some people prefer to use this instead of this when we have sex? Or sometimes, they ask to touch my feet, or…”

She lifted up her clothing. Az’kerash stared at her. After a second, he pointed.

Bea blinked, felt a slight pop, and appeared outside the castle. Venitra and Kerash started and looked at her.

“Well?”

The bone woman, Venitra, demanded. Bea turned.

“He didn’t explain about the other bit. I think we should just kill them before they get to that part.”

“Oh. Did he ask what the difference in gender meant? Or why the Drakes and Humans are so secretive when it’s the same one?”

“He did not. But apparently, Golems do it better.”

“Huh.”

—-

Some people were indeed better at understanding sex, whether it was from the viewpoint of science, or a practiced expert. But there were also the young.

And the purely ignorant. There were some people for whom sex—did not apply.

Rebellion was fomenting in the Hive of the Free Antinium. The rule of Revalantor Klbkch was in jeopardy.

The Antinium had seen the light of Heaven. But also—they had heard of a new way. An Antinium had left the Hive. Bird was gone. And he had chosen that.

The law of the Antinium was being threatened, at a time when the other Hives were finally connected to it and beginning to mingle. Even now, representatives from the other Hives were making the long, long journey towards Liscor. For Bird, again.

But this was not about Bird today. Bird had been unbanned from hunting birds and had brought the old reign of terror back to the skies of Liscor. Rather, it was another Antinium who had business with sex.

And business with the business of excretion. Yellow Splatters carefully wiped his excrement away with his hand. And if it was gross and vulgar to do that—well, people did it and it didn’t waste toilet paper. And toilet paper was a waste of resources.

He carefully wiped his hand after that, removing any filth in the sand. Then, Yellow Splatters left the excretion cubicle along with many Soldiers and Workers doing the same. They stared at him as he left, awed, perhaps, that Yellow Splatters, the [Sergeant], the Soldier who spoke, excreted just like they did.

Antinium used their version of septic tanks, which were regularly cleaned. Well, theirs were just chambers in the earth that waste ran into. And it was useful and thus used as fertilizer and composting. Mostly to grow mushrooms, which became food again.

It was an easy process, by and large. Antinium had very efficient bodies, so their waste wasn’t that egregious. Yellow Splatters had heard…stories. He was grateful for efficient bowel movements, and headed back to the barracks where the Painted Antinium were gathered.

Yellow Splatters produced waste every two or three days, sooner if he went into battle. He never talked about it. But it happened. Sometimes natural occurrences weren’t talked about.

Like excretion. But on the other hand…sometimes such discussions were unique indeed. As Yellow Splatters entered the barracks and returned to his seat, Belgrade approached him. The [Tactician] looked unusually upset today.

“Belgrade. How can I help you today?”

Yellow Splatters used the greeting he’d learned from Pawn. The [Tactician] stopped next to the [Sergeant] as Yellow Splatters fondly cast his eyes over the barracks. His home for his people. Pawn was not there; he was going out, to visit the inn as he often did to speak with Lyonette. But the Painted Antinium were there, practicing, reading, sleeping—

Living. Yellow Splatters would do anything to protect that. And his people knew their deaths were not in vain. There was a Heaven. He waited as Belgrade collected his thoughts. Then the Antinium Worker spoke.

“Sex.”

Yellow Splatters turned.

“What?”

Belgrade looked at him, as seriously as could be.

“Sex. This is an issue I feel I must bring up among the Painted Soldiers, Yellow Splatters. Now that there is an issue of it occurring, this is something I wish to curtail.”

The [Sergeant] paused. He was, besides Klbkch and the Grand Queen, the leader of all the Antinium in times of emergency. His level of command was matched only by Anand, who Klbkch had nominated as a secondary commander if both leaders were incapacitated. Indeed, their duality was even similar to Klbkch and the Grand Queen’s. One lead from the front, the other behind.

And yet, with all of his planning and his knowledge of the world…sex was not one of the challenges Yellow Splatters had faced. Until now. He stared at Belgrade.

“Go on.”

“Sex. The possibility of it has arisen. I have studied other species’ habits as a hobby, and I believe we are in danger of it.”

The Antinium [Trapsetter Tactician] was unusually nervous as he nodded to Yellow Splatters. The Soldier just stared at him.

“Why?”

“Sex occurs between males and females. It requires both genders to occur, according to the people I have bought drinks for in The Wandering Inn. It is also pleasurable, and, a means towards pregnancy and birthing.”

“Which are?”

“A period of increasing incapacitation in which another life form is incubated inside the female’s body until it is birthed, thereby increasing the population count. It is, apparently, the other species’ way of reproduction.”

“As opposed to birthing pods?”

“Yes. Inefficient, but that is other species. But the incapacitation takes months of time, in which the female is apparently increasingly burdened by the strain of reproduction. I fear very much that this is going to occur in the Hive.”

It…did sound like a problem. Yellow Splatters was hazy on sex, and pregnancy, and the pleasurable aspect of it, but incapacitation didn’t sound good. He nodded.

“How can we alleviate this crisis?”

“By forbidding sex. You must instruct your Soldiers and Workers not to have sex. I would like to get Pawn’s approval on this decision myself. I understand it is recreational, and if Miss Solstice insists, I will change my opinions, but I do not think the benefits, even for reproduction in this inefficient manner, outweigh the negatives. Do you agree?”

The [Sergeant] was nodding. Absolutely. Then he paused.

“Wait. You believe the Workers and Soldiers will have sex?”

“Yes.”

“With whom?”

That was Yellow Splatters for you. Whom, not ‘who’. Grammatical and precise, even in the face of unexpected sexual intercourse. Belgrade stared at him.

“With your female Soldiers, of course. Now that you have both genders, it is a given.”

He stated this as fact. Yellow Splatters paused.

“Female Soldiers?”

“Yes! Chesacre and Thaina! The two who survived the Dungeon sortie.”

Yellow Splatter paused. He…remembered that. Klbkch had determined that there was a surplus of Soldiers and Workers and had ordered thousands into the dungeon. To…reduce both side’s numbers. Two had survived, by a miracle. Saved from Facestealer by a skeleton, of all things.

“Yes. But that is just their names.”

“They are female names.”

Belgrade was agitated. Yellow Splatters didn’t follow.

“But they are just names.”

“But they are female names, Yellow Splatters. Chesacre and Thaina have informed me they are.”

That threw Yellow Splatters for a loop. He looked around and found the two Soldiers, who were sitting and reading books together. They were inseparable; they were the only two survivors, after all. They had been found, dancing among the slaughter.

A miracle, like the ones Pawn prayed for. Yellow Splatters felt for the two; he had even determined to make sure they were never put in that situation again. But they had not taken on a set paint yet; they were thinking of whom they would be. And…he could admit they had different names than most Soldiers.

But…female? Yellow Splatters felt the need to clarify.

“Names do not define gender. Do they?”

“Chesacre and Thaina inform me they are female. Why would I doubt their sendings?”

Belgrade gave Yellow Splatters a blank look. Of course, other Soldiers did not speak, but they had adopted their own sign language—learned from Mrsha and made up themselves—and they could communicate in a…mental way. It was something Yellow Splatters felt himself. The [Sergeant] had to disagree, though.

“But Soldiers are neither male nor female, Belgrade. We are.”

“You do not identify as male?”

“…No. Why would I?”

“I do. My name is masculine. So is Pawn’s. They are based on the greatest chess players of Erin’s world. Well, except Pawn’s. But he thinks he is male.”

“Surely it is not a choice?”

“It is. And I am concerned about the possibility of female pregnancies! What is so hard to understand?”

Belgrade was growing increasingly agitated. Babies could appear out of nowhere! And, apparently, you had to feed them sweets, take care of them, make sure they didn’t work too hard…two would be fine, but many? He was worried.

Yellow Splatters on the other hand had a bit more insight than Belgrade in one area. Slowly, he leaned forwards.

“Belgrade.”

“Yes?”

“I believe you misunderstand one thing about gender.”

“Which is?”

“Biologically, I believe gender is determined on genitalia.”

“What? Why would that be the case?”

“Isn’t there a difference?”

Belgrade had to think about this.

“And if there is?”

“We should at least make sure the biological risk of pregnancy is tied to genitalia, correct?”

Belgrade thought about this.

“…Yes. I suppose that would be a contributing factor towards pregnancies. I didn’t actually ask how the sex entailed; no one would accept my offer to pay to observe this.”

The [Sergeant] nodded slowly.

“Then, let us assume pregnancy does depend on that aspect.”

“Yes. And?”

Slowly, the [Sergeant] pointed at his loincloth. He removed it, casually.

Not all the Antinium wore loincloths. Indeed, only the ones who went above did. Most of them didn’t wear clothing at all; it wasn’t needed. But other species made a fuss and it was the rules, so the Antinium obeyed. But now, Yellow Splatters removed his clothing, such as it was. Belgrade stared down at his groin.

“Yes?”

“I do not believe we have either markings of male or female.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

Belgrade inspected the smooth chitin. Yellow Splatters nodded carefully.

“We have a disposal valve.”

“That takes place in sex. But I will admit…I don’t see the other two parts I was instructed to look for. And the disposal orifice is apparently only for advanced experts in sex.”

“Really? Why would you use that area?”

“…They didn’t really say. Then…is pregnancy not a danger to the Antinium?”

Belgrade relaxed. Yellow Splatters nodded.

“Evidently not.”

“But Chesacre and Thaina informed me they are female.”

“Then they are. What is the problem with that? I think it is a good tool to further differentiate Antinium.”

The two looked at each other. Belgrade nodded.

“Indeed. Perhaps other Antinium are female. Fascinating. Is Klbkch female? The Grand Queen?”

They thought about this.

“…Klbkch is probably male. And the Grand Queen female.”

“Biologically, I understand she is. And that Klbkch’s original gender was male.”

“With genitalia?”

“I did not ask him. Would you like to ask?”

“…No. But how do you know so much about this, Yellow Splatters? I had considered myself an authority, even if Miss Erin will not explain the rest to me until I am older.”

Belgrade looked at Yellow Splatters, impressed. The [Sergeant] paused, and for the first time, was truly uncomfortable.

“I should not say.”

“Why? Is it something Klbkch has told you?”

“No…”

“Then why is it not permissible to speak?”

Belgrade looked at Yellow Splatters with the innocent inquisition of someone who really didn’t know. And Yellow Splatters paused only for a moment, because the Antinium outside of Klbkch and the Grand Queen really didn’t keep secrets from one another. It was just an instinct that made him hesitate.

“Well, I have received all this information secondhand. From Pawn. He, I understand, has talked about sex with Lyonette. She tells him many things. And he has seen female genitalia.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And she hugs him and they sit in her room.”

Yellow Splatters realized he was talking in a vacuum. Every other Antinium in the room had turned to stare at him. The [Sergeant] paused, and for once, understood the word ‘gossip.’ But it was too late. Belgrade scooted forwards.

“He did not tell me this. Tell me more.”

“I—understand massages are involved. And hand-holding. But Pawn would know more. I…think it would be wise to be silent, now.”

“…What are massages?”

It was a question that would begin a very eventful little day in The Wandering Inn in earnest.

—-

“Your meal, sir.”

Garry the [Chef] sat in an outdoor café, waiting for his order. When it came, he stared at the glistening pasta, seasoned with white alfredo sauce and herbs with delight. The Gnoll [Waitress] bowed slightly, stared at him, and saw the Antinium pick up his fork.

“Thank you very much, Miss. I am very happy to partake of it. Do I tip you now? Erin told me it is very important to tip people.”

“No, that comes later. If you would like. Er…sir.”

The Antinium Worker nodded. He picked up the knife and fork and carefully collected some noodles. He was on holiday. He had gotten his…third holiday ever. The Free Queen had given him money, and let Garry go to the city.

Normally, Garry would go straight to The Wandering Inn, but today he wanted to be…adventurous. So here he was, in an outdoor café, a ritzy one, eating good food to expand his own repertoire of recipes.

Garry could eat pasta. He could eat gluten, come to that, because he was a [Chef]. And any decent [Chef] learned a Skill to internalize any food—or make any food he served or ate tolerable.

It was Garry’s new Skill—[Non-Allergen Cooking]. And he wanted to be the first one to serve his fellow Antinium pasta. And bread! All the bread they could eat.

So Garry, with great anticipation, took a bite of his pasta-salad paired with some fine bread and wine. It was a fancy dish, and all the other posh diners were staring out of the corner of their eyes at the Antinium Worker sitting in their midst.

The Worker chewed happily—for two seconds. Then—his mandibles opened. He put down his fork.

“I am very sorry to say this, Miss Waitress, but I fear the pasta is rotten. You may wish to inform the [Chef].”

Instantly, the other diners in the restaurant spat out their food. The Gnoll waitress looked horrified.

“Are you sure, sir?”

“Absolutely.”

Garry pointed at his bite of pasta.

“This cheese is sour. I believe it has been expired, which is not a flaw in my cooking, but in this restaurant…”

Instantly, the diners relaxed. There was a laugh that ran around the tables. The [Waitress] laughed too, relieved.

“Oh, no! That’s the meal, sir.”

Garry stared at the Gnoll.

“But this cheese is sour. Therefore, it is rotten.”

“Sour cheese is a delicacy. Mister, uh, Garry. You pair it with the proper foods.”

The Gnoll [Waitress] explained patiently. Garry stared at her. Slowly, he tasted the cheese, and the delicate mix of vegetables with the sauce. And then the wine.

“Oh. I see. I retract my comments.”

“Is it to your liking, sir?”

“It is very flavorful.”

Garry was truthful. And it was. It was good cooking. Sour cheese was awful, horrendous if eaten on its own, but that was why you mixed it with other food. You created an experience with some wine, other mixes of flavor—

There was just one problem. Garry finished his plate of course, he always finished his plate. And he tipped the Gnoll [Waitress] well enough to make her smile and thank him profusely. But he looked at the gold coins he put on the table.

It was okay. But could you make this for a thousand Soldiers and Workers? Or one hungry Free Queen? Garry walked away from the café, not in as good a mood as when he’d sat down.

He thought about the money he had spent, that his Queen had given him. That he could have bought nice things with, for the other Workers and Soldiers. And Garry felt bad and didn’t like the sour, expensive dish.

His head hung low, Garry decided not to go to the next restaurant. He could have bought so much food for his fellow Antinium. What was the purpose of a fancy meal only one person could eat? It went against his ideals as a [Chef].

And—speak of them already—Garry looked up with surprise as he saw more Antinium headed towards him.

“Garry! Garry, we must sequester your aid. It is an emergency!”

Belgrade waved his arms, all four of them as he shouted. He was accompanied by Anand and Yellow Splatters. Garry stared.

It was not unusual to see his fellow Antinium—well, it was since Garry was so often attending to the Free Queen. But it was astonishing to see them above in Liscor today.

“Belgrade, Anand, Yellow Splatters. What are you doing? The Hive is supposed to be closed.”

Revalantor Klbkch had forbidden any of the Painted Antinium from going above after the Bird incidents. He had—not been happy about Bird.

Only the Free Queen had overridden his restrictions to give Garry the day off. But the other Antinium were either having an emergency…or defying Klbkch’s orders.

Unthinkable. But something impelled the Antinium upwards. And that thing was—

“Sex?”

Garry stared at Belgrade. The Worker nodded.

“Apparently, sex is something other species have. But—and this is my opinion which Anand and Yellow Splatters do not share—I believe sex can lead to unwanted phenomena such as pregnancy!”

“What is that?”

“Something that happens between males and females. Which Antinium are not.”

“Chesacre and Thaina say—”

“They are not female.”

“They say they are. I believe them.”

Yellow Splatters’ arms were folded. Anand looked between Belgrade and Yellow Splatters.

“This is why we are here, Garry. The matter must not wait. If Belgrade is right—all the Antinium could become pregnant. That might make Revalantor Klbkch angry indeed.”

His antennae were flailing with his anxiety. Garry was stunned. All of them…pregnant? He hadn’t thought about it.

“How?”

“We don’t know! We have come above to find out! It could be triggered by sexual intercourse, whatever that is. Maybe—massages? Or hugging? Hand holding? These are all displays of intimacy!”

“Hugging? Hand holding?”

The Antinium looked at each other. This was indeed serious. Serious enough to disobey Klbkch over, even. Garry thought about the food he’d eaten. And he was ashamed. He straightened, and put his hand on his purse.

“I see. This matter concerns the Hive. In that case, you have my support. Was Revalantor Klbkch informed?”

“We…thought it best not to tell him. He need not know about this.”

The other Antinium looked at each other. And rebellion was born of that carnal passion which brought down even empire. Garry nodded.

“In that case, friends, come. I have funds allocated to me by the Free Queen. Let us see if anyone will teach us the intricacies of sex. I only hope I have enough.”

The Antinium nodded. Four now, they turned. The first person they saw was a Drake. They approached him at speed. Yellow Splatters stopped the Drake, who looked alarmed.

“What is it? Raskghar? Oh dead gods, is it the moths again?”

“No, citizen. We merely seek information on…sex.”

“We are willing to pay you for a demonstration. Or to partake of it with us.”

Belgrade offered the Drake some coins. He stared at the four Antinium. And then he backed away slowly. And then turned to run. Belgrade turned to the other Antinium as the Drake fled, shouting for the Watch.

“See? I told you. Handholding. We may already be pregnant.”

—-

When you got down to it, what was sex? It wasn’t something you had to explain to anyone who had partaken, but even someone who thought they understood the concept could be surprised.

And surely—every parent who had ever had that question pop up dreaded the conversation like nothing else. Because it meant their children would have…sex. Or were at that age.

I mean—sex. Just fine when you had it yourself. No problems there? But a kid? And how did you explain it to them? Especially in a way that conveyed…everything?

Erin Solstice didn’t know. But she thought she understood some of her parent’s pain over their conversations.

“Sex! Sex! Seeeeeex!”

A Gnoll cub raced past Erin on the floor, laughing and shouting the word. Erin covered her face with both hands. Ekirra and Mrsha were howling with laughter as they raced about, playing tag and as Ekirra shouted the word.

He’d learned another one at her inn. His playdates to The Wandering Inn were in jeopardy. But it wasn’t her fault. Despairingly, Erin looked up.

At Relc, Senior Guardsman of the Watch. And his four…criminals. Who had attempted to accost Liscor’s citizens for inappropriate acts.

Belgrade, Anand, Yellow Splatters, and Garry looked up at Erin apprehensively. They had been marched into Erin’s inn and the situation had been explained to her.

Relc had brought them. But the Drake was hardly putting them in chains. He and Drassi were leaning on the bar, laughing so hard they were close to puking. So were Selys and half the inn.

“Sex? How did you—who told you about that?”

“I was informed of the dangers of pregnancy here, Erin.”

Belgrade shook like a leaf, fearful of punishment. Erin wanted to hug him, but she had to fold her arms first.

“Sex is—you can’t go around and ask people for sex, guys!”

“Yeah, you have to be subtle. They were going up to strangers—half of them blokes—and asking—for sex—for gold—”

Relc choked as he guffawed. He inhaled, came close to passing out as he laughed himself over the bar’s counter. Drassi tried to haul him up and fell over.

“I do not see what is so funny. Sex is not a good thing. It can lead to pregnancy. Or have I been misinformed?”

Belgrade looked anxious. But that was him. Anand was giving Erin a resigned look—he’d clearly figured out this was a misunderstanding. Yellow Splatters’ arms were folded and he was looking uncertain. And Garry…he waved at Erin.

“Hello, Erin. I am sorry to bother you on your day off. And to be arrested.”

Erin spared a smile for the least-seen Worker.

“Hi Garry, I am happy to see you. But—guys. What is with today and sex?”

“It’s a sign, Erin.”

Selys called out from her table. There were a lot of sniggers from around Erin’s inn. Not just from her regulars. Erin glowered around and saw Montressa and Beza trying not to snigger. Palt was smoking furiously and she knew he was hiding a smile.

“Oi! Smoke!”

“I’m venting it. See?”

The [Smoker] pointed. The haze was streaming out an open window. Erin threw her hands up.

“Alright, laugh! I don’t think it’s funny!”

“It’s hilarious, Erin. These four finally want to have sex and—”

Relc pulled himself over the bar. He laughed at Erin.

“Who was gonna arrest ‘em? Watch Captain Z just said to send them here. It’s your problem.”

“She said that?”

Erin’s look of chagrin made even Lyonette laugh. But the [Princess] was staring at the Antinium. At last, she came over.

“Well, I suppose we’d better tell them about sex, Erin. So this doesn’t happen again. Pawn should be able to do it. He’s actually in the city.”

“What?”

The other Antinium looked at Lyonette. She blinked.

“Pawn. He’s in the city. Buying things. Um…didn’t he tell you?”

“He said he was going above. Despite the restrictions Revalantor Klbkch placed?”

“Restrictions? Pawn said he had a special allowance.”

The [Princess] looked astonished. Then her eyes narrowed.

“Typical. Well…I suppose he decided to lie.”

She smiled about it for some reason. Erin stared at Lyonette.

“I don’t think we should encourage the Antinium to break rules, Lyonette.”

Even if she was her own bad kid who’d run away from home. Lyonette blinked at Erin, and then she blushed furiously.

“Right. I meant—well, that’s one thing. Before Pawn gets here—we do have to do some explaining. First off, Belgrade, no one is getting pregnant from hand-holding.”

“…Hugging? Massages?”

Lyonette turned beet red. Erin blinked at her and then at Belgrade. Her eyes slowly narrowed—

“No. Sex is totally different. It’s—well, I might have to get a diagram.”

“I know! It’s when a male and a female get in bed! And grunt a lot! And the bed gets wet, but it’s not pee! It happens all the time!”

Ekirra raced over. Erin covered her eyes again.

“Ekirra, dear, why don’t you play in the garden with Visma? She’s helping beautify the pond.”

The Drake was indeed putting shiny stones in the pond, or rather, choosing the shiny ones Numbtongue brought back from his expeditions and putting the ones she didn’t want on the pond floor.

“Why? It happens all the time.”

“All the time?”

The Antinium stared as the little Gnoll nodded solemnly. So did Mrsha. Then they fell over each other, laughing. They were enjoying this. Erin was not.

“It’s serious! Ekirra, in the garden. You too, Mrsha!”

“They know about sex, Erin. I keep telling you—Ishkr, tell her.”

The Gnoll [Waiter] paused as he swept the floor. He looked at Erin, and at Selys, who was waving him over into the discussion.

“…I’m just working. I’d like to keep working, please.”

Ishkr retreated out of the conversation. Relc chortled.

“Look, boys, it’s simple. Sex is where you take your thing, and you go like—”

It was amazing how with two hands he could break down sex into a single motion. One hand pointed, and two fingers made a circle and—Erin shouted.

“Relc! Come on!”

“Can you give details, please?”

Belgrade and Anand were taking furious notes. Relc was only too happy to, as were other members of the inn. Erin threw up her hands.

“Perverts!”

“Erin, how else are they going to learn? Isn’t it better for them to learn?”

That reasonable question came from Selys. Erin hesitated. She looked at the Workers, who had gone over to a table with some of the guests willing to talk to them about sex. It was entertainment to the guests and…well, they did have to know.

“I guess.”

Erin subsided. She still felt embarrassed—doubly so when Ekirra leapt around singing about what he’d seen.

“Ekirra, dear.”

Lyonette’s voice was stern and made the little Gnoll pause, warily. Erin stared askance as he ducked his head and stopped laughing around.

“Hey! That didn’t work with me.”

“Because I’m the mean, strict mother and person managing this inn. And you’re the cool boss.”

The [Princess] grinned at Erin’s expression. The young woman stared as Belgrade asked Ulevissia.

“So you’re sure that there is no pregnancy from any act other than inserting the…what did you call it?”

“Penis.”

“Shaft.”

“Thing.”

“Second-spear? Mini-Relc?”

“…These are a lot of terms. Are you sure they refer to the same organ?”

Laughter from around the room. Even Erin’s lips twitched. It was so…vulgar? Well, that or silly. And all the regulars had their own opinions.

“Yes, and you should give someone a gift. You have to court someone before you can have sex, dear little Belgrade.”

Ulevissia was telling the [Tactician]. Relc laughed.

“Not if it’s a single night. Then, you only have to use one of your best pickup lines. I’ll teach you a few. Okay, if they’re a Gnoll you say—”

More laughter as half of the crowd told Relc to stop giving bad advice. Erin shook her head. And then she heard someone cursing.

“Lizard-faced harpy. Gifts? That’s how females suck you dry. You pay a day’s pay and what do they do?”

That remark stood out to Erin in the crowd, as did the sour expression and what she sensed—dark anger. Erin turned.

“Hey. Menolit. Do you have a problem?”

The Drake [Veteran] stopped cursing Ulevissia under his breath. He glanced up, and then away from Erin.

“Sorry, Miss Solstice.”

Erin looked at the Drake [Mage]-[Tinkerer], but she hadn’t heard anything. She went over to Menolit’s table, sensing his dark mood at Ulevissia’s comments.

“What’s wrong? Most women don’t need gifts, you know, Menolit.”

She stared down at the Drake. She knew Menolit, and his upset expression and—she realized she was looking at his tail for signs of his mood. But most of his tail was gone, leaving only a stump.

The Drake [Veteran] noticed Erin’s glance. He bared his teeth.

“Don’t mind me. I was just going to tell those Antinium it’s not all about romance or how you do in bed. If you don’t get there, what’s the point? It’s harder when you’re disfigured is all I want to say, Erin.”

His expression twisted. And Erin sensed and saw his bleak expression.

“Hey. I’m sorry.”

She sat down at his table. Menolit turned his head, embarrassed, cursing.

“Fuck me like a lizard—don’t mind me, Miss Solstice. I’m just an idiot.”

“No you’re not. Is it…hard? Is it really that bad in Liscor?”

The [Veteran] looked at Erin. He indicated his tail.

“This? Yeah. You don’t know. Which is why I like it here. Gnolls don’t see it as much, but they’ve lived here long enough. It’s like missing part of my face. It happens in battle, but rarely. Drakes don’t strike each other’s tails if we can help it. But when it’s me and half a dozen fellows at a bar, there’s no point competing and I’m hardly rich or funny—”

He cut himself off.

“Don’t mind me.”

But Erin did mind. She reached out. And caught herself.

A trite comment would have been to say that he’d find someone. It would be thoughtless. ‘You don’t need sex, I’m fine’, would also…not apply to him. Erin looked at Menolit.

“…You know, Humans don’t care about tails. Look at me. I think Relc’s a great guy, and I don’t even notice what people say about him.”

She nodded at Relc. Menolit glanced up. He half-grinned, half-grimaced at her. And his mood didn’t really change. Erin could feel his black fury and despair and hurt, oh, the hurt, while he sat in her inn.

She was growing as an [Innkeeper]. Menolit spat his response.

“I’d—wonder if you’d give me a chance, then, Miss Solstice?”

He looked at her, challengingly. Erin hesitated.

“I’m not dating anyone.”

“Right. But if you were…I imagine it would be someone in your species, or someone like…Olesm Swifttail. Someone else. Someone with high levels or…”

Menolit didn’t finish. He laughed harshly. And paused, as Erin reached out.

“Hey. Stop that.”

She looked at him, squeezing his wrist hard. Erin Solstice looked at Menolit.

“I’m not interested in you, Menolit. I shouldn’t have said that about Humans. But it doesn’t matter what you look like to me.”

She met his eyes. Menolit paused, searching them. Then he shrugged.

“…Wish every woman was like you, Miss Erin.”

“Nah. We bleed too much each month.”

He laughed at that. Then shook his head.

“…I’m sorry. Can I—I’d like to order something. The fire drink. The—Minotaur’s Punch.”

Erin hesitated, but what else could she do? She nodded.

“Drassi—”

The [Bartender] went to her bar and fetched the pink flame, mixing the drink of glory and nostalgia. It hurt, but not as much as the Faerie Flower drink raw. Erin brought it back to Menolit.

“On the house.”

“Thank you.”

He saluted her, crisply, and then drank. Erin saw him go somewhere else for a second. Then—Menolit heaved himself up and joined the laughing conversation.

Perhaps not better, but at least it was something. Erin wandered back to the bar, feeling sad for him. But she couldn’t fix the world’s ills. But maybe if she circulated the thought among some of her female regulars…

Here she was doing it. Erin blinked. But it was different for someone else—

“Psst, Erin.”

Lyonette drew the [Innkeeper] aside. She sighed as Erin looked at her quizzically.

“You can’t give all these drinks on the house, Erin.”

“But he’s a regular…”

The [Princess] stopped Erin.

“We have to mix the Minotaur’s Shots with flammable alcohol. That’s not as cheap as mead or ale. That’s the eighteenth ‘on the house’ drink in the last two days! You get a limit of…four per day. Fine?”

“Okay.”

Erin sighed. She looked at Belgrade and Anand and Garry and Yellow Splatters. Then she heard the clip-clop of hooves.

“Erin, is now a bad time?”

“I’m not explaining the birds and the bees to you, Palt.”

The Centaur smiled.

“I assume that’s a metaphor?”

“Yeah. Anyways, it’s weird. Do you—is it—nah.”

Erin waved a hand. The Centaur nodded, adjusting his cigar in his mouth. He paused.

“…It’s one of those things everyone learns about, I suppose. But I’m sure they’ll learn enough. And you don’t need to hover over them. Why not take a break? I’ve been meaning to treat you to a meal in the city. Take an hour off?”

Lyonette looked at Palt. Erin glanced up vaguely.

“What? Oh…well, that’d be nice.”

“I know a good place—”

“Oh, wait. Garry told me about sour cheeses, you know? He was really upset and he’s only got his day off, so I really need to teach him. Sorry. Can we do it another time?”

“Of course.”

Palt smiled as Erin gestured towards the kitchen. He talked with Erin a few more seconds, and then she went to extract Garry from the crowd. Palt nodded at Lyonette, who gave him a sympathetic look. When Erin was out of earshot, she whispered.

“You’re going to have to be more direct.”

Then she turned and went back to work. Palt blinked at the [Princess]’ back, and then trotted back to the table.

“Hah! I saw you fail your charm spell over there!”

Montressa and Beza snorted as Palt sat down. He glared at them.

“Don’t even joke about that. Charm spells and love potions are banned hard in Baleros. I don’t know why Izril doesn’t have stricter laws. It happens at Wistram all the time.”

The two female [Mages] quieted. Montressa rubbed at her red hair.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Palt puffed a few times, calming himself down. He made an apologetic gesture for his outburst.

“Anyways, it never works for romance. It’s illusory love. Infatuation, not the real thing. Real love potions…dead gods, I don’t imagine even Saliss of Lights could brew those.”

“Still, you did your best.”

“Did I? I should have just asked her on a date. But I feel like she’d turn me down straight off.”

Palt looked at Montressa and Beza. The two [Mages] traded looks. Beza snorted.

“If I were looking for romance, I’d march up to the male and tell him I liked him. That’s how it works best. Honesty.”

“And how has that worked outside of Minos?”

The [Illusionist] replied acidly. Bezale sipped from her drink, her expression neutral.

“It’s worked quite well, actually. The only ones who turn me down are the ones who couldn’t have managed in the bedroom anyways.”

Montressa snorted, but she waved a hand as Palt looked at her.

“Don’t talk to me. My name was mud in Wistram and before that…”

The two [Mages] paused. Before that was Pisces. They fell silent. Then Palt sighed.

“Maybe I’ll challenge Erin to a game of chess. But if I go for it too early—”

“She’s a challenge. And she’s a master of chess. Do you think you even have a chance?”

The [Aegiscaster] waggled her eyebrows at Palt. The Centaur shifted.

“I can only try. Besides, this is…more advanced than chess. If it was a game, it would be more convoluted than any board game ever made. With rules that keep changing. And I think—different species and different genders play according to different rules. So that you never really know who wins.”

The two female [Mages] glanced at each other. Palt was the sort to pontificate on romance and make it a challenge. Even so, Beza had to ask.

“What do you see in her?”

Palt sipped from his drink calmly.

“Aside from the fact that she creates moments? The fact that she’s brave enough to brawl with you, Beza? Or that she’s smart? And hides behind a mask better than some of the Elusive Lot?”

The two [Mages] looked at Palt. Montressa whispered. He was head-over-hooves if he was singing Erin’s praises. And Centaurs had a lot of space between their head and hooves.

“Yeah. Besides all that?”

“She’s very cute.”

—-

Cuteness was in the eye of the beholder. Badarrow thought of Snapjaw as ‘cute’, or he would have if someone vouchsafed the word to him.

In reality, he looked at Snapjaw like…a box. And inside that box was something different than most people saw. Everyone was like that.

Snapjaw, who had a huge mouthful of teeth, who could eat a Wyvern. Who could be friendly—who had served with the Goblin Lord.

As his enemy. But who also wept for Eater of Spears, and her other fallen friends, just like Badarrow had. That was how they had met. The two liked each other, despite having somewhat different personalities. Badarrow was taciturn, Snapjaw outgoing.

But trust—oh yes, they had that. Trust was an important thing. That was probably why Badarrow was carefully watching Snapjaw open her mouth.

The same mouth that could, with a bite, turn a Wyvern’s hide into mincemeat. And jaws that could crush stones for fun. But that was also the thrill.

Snapjaw sucked carefully and Badarrow hissed. Careful. But he let Snapjaw do all the work. Her teeth were sharp and only the [Eater] was moving. Slowly. But with agonizing—control.

The female Hobgoblin’s eyes were dancing with enjoyment as she looked up. Badarrow tensed, trying to last. And she teased him, and then—abruptly—began to hum a marching tone.

“Ah!”

Badarrow moved. Snapjaw relaxed and no blood was shed. But she kept humming, loudly, and Badarrow was having trouble holding on, even with a [Sniper]’s discipline, a Redfang’s pride. But he waited—as Snapjaw began growing louder and louder, tickling, stroking his thighs and then—

The door opened right as Badarrow released. Snapjaw gulped, blinked—and both Hobgoblins turned as Calescent marched into the room with a pair of plates and hot, spicy food.

“Both of you not at breakfast! Must eat! I have l—”

He paused, staring at the two mid-fellatio. Badarrow glared silently. Calescent paused. He looked at both of them. Studied his dish.

“Too much spices. Bad for this. I come back in thirty minutes, with less-spicy dish.”

He slowly backed out of the room and closed the door. Badarrow didn’t move as Snapjaw slowly rose. She studied the closed door.

“Need locks.”

“Mhm.”

He was panting. Snapjaw licked her lips and then nudged him.

“Your turn.”

The Hobgoblin grunted obligingly and Snapjaw laid down on the bed. Badarrow bent over and Snapjaw smiled expectantly—and then had a thought. She whispered down to Badarrow.

“Bet no Goblin ask Calescent to lick things. Too afraid of spicy burning.”

They both giggled at the thought. Down the hall of the private quarters, oblivious to the comments on his sex life, Calescent marched. He walked to the second door and opened it brusquely; he hadn’t learned his lesson.

“Breakfast and lunch are important meals! Everyone needs—”

He paused. Calescent walked out of the room, checked the door. He stared back inside. This was indeed Chieftain Rags’ room. He walked inside, stared at Redscar.

And Leapwolf. The two Goblins were naked. Leapwolf was on the bed and Redscar was paused, hand on an erect phallus. Leapwolf stared at Calescent and turned red. Redscar’s grip tightened as he grinned at Calescent. Leapwolf groaned, back arching, sweat on his brow.

“Chieftain?”

Calescent pointed lamely at his bowls. He heard a growl.

“Next time, knock.”

Rags was peering at the two Goblins who’d been giving her a demonstration. For fun. And education. Calescent slowly nodded as he saw Rags sitting in a chair.

“Food?”

All three Goblins shouted at him and the Hobgoblin hurried out the door. He sighed.

“Probably need locks. Must make better food for after-sex.”

He marched off.

—-

Did it offend people, to discuss sex? To say penis? Or vagina? Or describe sex in intimate ways? The answer was yes. Perhaps, because most people weren’t good at it.

Call it crude, or needlessly lascivious. Unchaste, as some might label discussions of anything close to carnality. But it happened, and there was a difference in…understanding.

For example, what the Antinium learning expedition found was that there was a very wide sample size of techniques between the species they surveyed. And there was a correlation between genders; they’d surveyed enough people to ensure it wasn’t casual correlation.

“Okay, so there are different positions—and uh, if you’re really persuasive, there’s even the butt—”

Relc’s lesson on sex with some visual hand-gestures was interrupted by a female Gnoll who kicked him in the back. She urgently pulled him aside and spoke to the Antinium.

“Ignore him. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. If you want to make the female happy, you can’t just rush into it. If that happens, I know I’ll have a bad time, yes?”

Her comment was accompanied by nods from around the table. Female nods. Relc flushed.

“Hey! I don’t get any complaints!”

“We know what to expect from you.”

That comment made Relc flush. The female Gnoll leaned over and Belgrade, Anand, and Yellow Splatters all leaned in. They were taking notes.

“Touching first. Obviously you court her—the experience is the entire event. Not one quick explosion. At least—not for us. And technique matters! You can’t just go at it like—”

She nodded at Relc. The Drake grinned.

“But I can go all day! Not bad, right, Beilmark?”

The Senior Guardswoman rolled her eyes. She was partnering with Relc for the interim—there was a situation with Bearclaw in Liscor and she’d come to ask why he hadn’t checked back in. She’d been sucked into the debate.

“Relc, not all women want to go for an hour.”

“But that is important. Just a bit of time. Mm—just not really short.”

“As long as they build up to it properly, it doesn’t matter—”

Belgrade was frantically scribbling down what was, when you got down to it, a lot of contradictory advice.

“I see, I see. May I see a demonstration?”

Laughter. The Worker looked up—he had been serious.

“Will you please demonstrate? Be specific as possible, please. I can pay—”

“We talked about this.”

Relc coughed, looking amused.

“Oh, it’s inappropriate. I apologize. Then—may I receive a verbal description of the techniques employed?”

Beilmark had to sit back, laughing, but Relc jumped in.

“I’ve got one. You can use Skills in bed. [Triple Thrust]. Oh yeah.”

The entire group around the table stared at Relc. Menolit choked on his drink.

“Really? How does that…work?”

The Drake [Guardsman] paused, and some of his bravado faded.

“It uh, tends to hit the right spot, and then her navel and thigh. Hurts like hell.”

The others stared at him. Montressa sprayed her drink out her nose. Gales of laughter followed Relc as he turned around, shouting.

“It’s a combat Skill! Shut up! I only did it once!”

Yellow Splatters laughed too. He was enjoying himself. But Anand and Belgrade, [Tacticians] to the end, were serious and focused. Belgrade nodded.

“I believe we have enough data. Clearly, the time has come.”

“…To do what?”

“Am I to assume that sex is a somewhat difficult proposition that cannot be easily obtained?”

“Not with some women.”

Menolit muttered. Beilmark nodded cautiously.

“One cannot just do it on the streets, yes? That is why you cannot ask for it, hm?”

She looked meaningfully at the Antinium. Belgrade nodded.

“We are aware. Thus, since it is most likely an experience out of reach of most Antinium, I believe we must endeavor to synthesize the experience for other Antinium.”

Anand was nodding. Yellow Splatters and the crowd looked at the two Workers. The [Sergeant] spoke shortly.

“What?”

“A story. We should convey our advanced knowledge of sex so that Antinium may understand how it happens and derive enjoyment. Just as one reads a book of cooking, and enjoys the idea of cooking, sex. Come, Yellow Splatters. We should begin work at once.”

The Antinium were gesturing towards a table. At this point Erin had to intervene.

“No!”

She stuck her head out of the kitchen where she was showing Garry how the chocolate had been made. The Workers looked at her.

“No writing sex stories here!”

“Aw! Erin!”

She shook a fist at Relc. And that should have been the end of that. Erin went into the kitchen to keep teaching Garry, because some things were better than sex for the Worker. And he loved Erin’s presence more than sex.

But the Antinium had changed. So much so that their rebellion didn’t stop here. Belgrade looked around.

“Miss Solstice had expressed her desire that writing of this story should not occur here. Therefore, it must not.”

Anand was busily packing the ink and parchment up.

“Agreed. Let us go to a more secluded spot. Bird’s room. Come, Yellow Splatters.”

The [Sergeant] rose. Relc saw Beilmark turn to him. The Gnolls whispered.

“Should we stop them?”

“Are you kidding? Hey, Belgrade, Anand! We’ll pay for copies.”

“Aha. And you see? This is already turning into a monetary benefit.”

Anand nodded as the three trundled up the stairs. Relc stared at their backs, and then at Beilmark.

“We’re gonna be heroes when we return to the barracks.”

The Senior Guardswoman nodded. She stared at Relc, and then around the inn.

“Dead gods. Does Klbkch always have this much fun with you?”

“Yeah, but he can’t appreciate it. Come on, let’s get a drink, do a quick patrol, and come back. Hopefully they have something brilliant.”

The two Workers and Soldier went up the stairs. They immediately went to Bird’s room and knocked.

Bird was not inside. He was on the roof, eating a Bird.

“Mmf. Birds. Birds! I love birds.”

The [Bird Hunter] looked up as the three Antinium paused in his crude tower. He was shaking, crouched over a disassembled bird. Blood ran from his mandibles and onto his body. The Antinium stared at him. In this moment, you could see the Antinium that plagued the nightmares of Drakes.

Until he spoke.

“Oh, hello Anand, Belgrade, Yellow Splatters. I have fulfilled my obsession. Would you like a bird?”

He offered a piece of bird to them. Anand waved it away.

“Bird, we have no time for birds. We must write a story of sexual prowess and deed for the Antinium. May we borrow your room?”

Bird stared at the Antinium. He opened and closed his mandibles a few times.

“…Yes.”

“Thank you.”

The Antinium went downstairs and entered Bird’s room. Bird thought about asking if he and Pawn were invited to the writing of sex. He had seen Pawn just a few minutes ago.

—-

“All clear. You don’t have Yellow River.”

Geneva finished her inspection. The Lizardman sighed in relief. He flopped onto his bed, back-first, and Geneva began taking her gloves off.

“Miss Scala, you are a lifesaver. I was terrified when I saw—”

“Just dead scale matter and dirt. It’s built up here—you need to take better care of your hygiene. As I said. And the condoms—”

The Lizardman’s name was Xeppal. And he was a [Prostitute]. Geneva briskly took off her gloves as Xeppal sat up and nodded.

“No fear, Doctor Scala. I’ve heard about the Yellow Rivers. Thank you, thank you for coming out. Everyone was afraid…”

He gestured towards the doors. Geneva nodded.

The brothel she was visiting wasn’t the highest of classes in Talenqual, but that just meant it was important to visit. The Slippery Tail did a lot of business and it was a vector for diseases.

“Your manager asked me to visit. And she’s assured me she’ll pay for protection and insist on it.”

“That’s a relief. Miss Dushal’s a good one. Dullahan, but she takes care of us. Some places—well, they don’t even have security. You get a bad client and…”

Geneva grimaced. Sex work existed in Baleros. In all five continents, actually. Terandria was apparently strictest, as were cities in Izril, but sex workers existed everywhere. The only difference was how much protection they were afforded.

It was one of those things that made her angry. If it had been regulated, the Yellow Rivers diseases would be easier to deal with. As it was, she had to seek out the owners of brothels, and they were sometimes less than cooperative.

“It’s a difficult situation, security?”

Xeppal nodded.

“You get someone who’s the wrong sort? Well, my female friends have more trouble than I do. Me—women come to me because I have this.”

He showed her his member. Lizardfolk had an odd design compared to a Human penis. Geneva had been inspecting it for the Yellow Rivers symptoms, telltale pus. Now she could admire the flaccid shaft.

…Both of them. Xeppal waggled his brows at Geneva. It was a bigger specimen than most she’d seen, male or female.

“Did it surprise you, Doctor?”

“Hemipenes? I’ve heard of it, but it was something interesting to see. I knew that snakes and lizards had them.”

“Evolutionary traits. Well, it’s not that unusual, but members of other species are certainly intimidated.”

“Is that a Skill that gave you your enlarged hemipenes, or were you born with them?”

Geneva refused to rise to the bait. Xeppal shrugged.

“Both, Doctor. As I said—I’m in this business. Have been for seven years.”

“…That would make you fourteen when you started.”

The Lizardman shrugged.

“Had to make a living. It’s not always easy, even with the community to fall back on, or family. Especially if you have bad ones.”

Geneva nodded. She was familiar with that too. Xeppal was her last client for the day, and she began packing up her bag while she asked him questions. All the other sex workers had told her similar tales.

Some were in it because it was a fun job, others because they had no choice. But Talenqual’s company, the Feathered Brigade, didn’t regulate this industry as much as other companies and there was plenty of abuse in the system.

“Tell me about the dangers.”

“Oh, I don’t need to whine, Doctor. Miss Dushal has been fine to us.”

“And elsewhere? I want to know.”

Xeppal paused.

“The La