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The Loving Lantern was teeming with various races doing their level best to drown post-battle emotions with food and drink. A thick haze in the air indicated that heavy use of the available hookahs facilitated the merriment. Two bards attempted to entertain, one playing a fife while the other stroked a lyre and sang a poorly-crafted song. Bare-breasted serving ladies carrying heaping trays and wearing short, pleated skirts wormed their way between crowded tables, often getting waylaid by groping patrons. The waitstaff consisted of two half-elves and a striped, orange furred tabaxi. They tolerated the molestation with good nature and cheer, but any that pushed the boundaries were encouraged by several large orcs to refrain. Often with liberal use of blunt objects. On one side of the room was Junria, a tall, green-scaled barbarian wearing a long fur loincloth, a heavy boar-hide shawl over the shoulders, and the perpetual, toothy, crocodilian grin of the lizardfolk species.

Junria scanned the tavern with yellow, serpent eyes, noticing that the festive atmosphere scarcely hid the apprehension of the sailors and soldiers. Also noting how few their number had become. When the campaign had started there were over three-hundred in their troupe and even the large alehouses of the capital would have spilled over in the street trying to accommodate them. Although there remained enough to pack the small port village of Treeforge's tavern to bursting, there could scarcely be any more than fifty remaining. The commander had managed to gain some recruits during their travels, but not enough to shore up numbers lost from battle or flight. With the final and most dangerous leg of their mission going through hostile water, there wasn't likely to be any further opportunity to bolster their ranks once they set sail.

Having procured a raw mutton leg of pleasing bloodiness and a large clay tankard of ale, Junria gave up looking for an available seat, deciding to instead find a place to lean against the wall. Not typically the wallflower type, but the two other lizardfolk that had normally been Junria's drinking companions had fallen. Their kind were accepted enthusiastically on the battleground, but less so in social situations. A lizard's personality could often be as abrasive as their skin, so the soft-skins tend to avoid them.

The lizardfolk's eyes fell upon a dark-haired human wearing a crimson surcoat over a deep blue gambeson. By human standards he was considered young and handsome. Unmarked about the face with scars like Junria was. Contrary to many other human males, he didn't allow his facial hair to grow aside from two narrow strips over his lip like tightly groomed eyebrows. He was not partaking in any food or drink, nor joined in any revelry. Instead he sat at a small table in the corner, engrossed in a tome he was reading. Although no longer wearing his shiny armor and helm, Junria recognized him as the paladin who had given aid during the recent battle. A relative newcomer to the company, appearing about a month prior and offering his services without prompting. As a warrior possessing inexplicable holy power he was treated with as much reservation as any lizardfolk, so he sat alone.

Junria's heart jumped when paladin's dark eyes had flicked up from the tome, sensing another's gaze. He smiled and clapped the book closed before motioning toward the empty seat on the bench next to him. Despite the clear invitation, there was a vexing flash of hesitation before Junria could gather the assurance to approach. The company of softskins was difficult to endure, but they obnoxiously associate their alcohol with socializing and find it rude to take the former without the latter. They had strange etiquette and rules, many of which have inane reasoning behind them. Doubly so when dealing with those that are venerated. Bow? Kiss his hand? Call him "your lordship"? No... no, it is not proper to have doubt. He had invited a lizard to his table. A lizard was what he was going to get. Junria flopped down on the bench, spilling some of the tankard's contents.

"Hey."

The paladin nodded. "Well met, Junria. Thank you for joining me."

"You know my name?"

"I've been trying to become familiar with everyone and learn their names," he said before offering his hand. "My name is Frederick."

Junria eyed his hand doubtfully before recalling the decorum and setting down the mutton leg. Without bothering to clean the blood off first, the lizard grasped the paladin by the wrist. Junria held the arm, testing the human's strength and finding it agreeable. "Frederick the Grave, yeah, everyone knows."

When released, Frederick wiped the blood from his hand with a kerchief. "Can't say I care for that designation, but it's what I've been saddled with."

"I like it." Junria motioned toward the book. "That your holy scripture?"

"This? No! Heaven's no! Just a small vice I allow myself." He held up the cover so the lizard could see the title. Junria couldn't read, having no use for scribbles, but squinted at it before nodding.

"Commander said since we're all setting sail soon we should have some fun tonight." Junria took a bite from the mutton, rending off a huge chunk and barely chewing before swallowing, throat bulging as it slid down. "But you don't look like you're having fun to me. Want me to wave over a wench to bring you ale?"

Frederick shook his head with a smile. "Thank you, but I'm afraid I'll have to decline."

"Drinking against that oath thing your sort does?"

The paladin chuckled. "Lady Arura has no qualms regarding drinking. It is more of a personal restriction as opposed to a religious one."

"If your goddess lets you drink, you should do it. And often." Junria lifted the tankard and took a swig. Lizardfolk lack the ability to sip from a cup like softskins could, instead tilt their heads back and dump it in. Foamy liquid dribbled from the corner of the toothy maw and Junria wiped it away with the back of a clawed hand. "We didn't have anything like this back home. If I had known you softies did I would have left years earlier."

"Back home?" Frederick implored. "Your tribe?"

Junria took another bite of meat. "Mm-hmm."

"How long has it been since you left?"

"Fifteen? No, seventeen years since I was exiled."

"Exiled? What happened?"

The lizard sighed. "That was a long time ago." Dismissing the question before deciding to change the subject. "In that last fight I thought I was about to meet Sess'innek. I could almost feel his teeth when you saved my scales with that magic hand thing."

"The same as I would for any brother-in-arms," Frederick assured. He offered a sly grin. "Or a sister-in-arms as the case may be."

The ale paused at Junria's mouth before she lowered it. "So you can tell?"

"I wasn't sure at first," Frederick admitted, "but I know a woman when I place my hand on one. Don't worry, I'll keep your secret."

Junria shrugged. "Eh, not really a secret. Most softies don't know the difference and some of them call us "lizard-men" like we don't even have women. I never correct them. Besides, I've noticed you treat your women differently and don't let many of them be warriors. I suppose you're afraid their tits will fall off in battle or something? I wouldn't want anyone to get the idea that I'd be better off sitting on faces instead of smashing them." She motioned with the bone toward a topless serving girl being accosted by a soldier. "I'm not suited for that sort of work."

"I think Milady would look delightful in a frilly petticoat serving drinks."

Junria narrowed her eyes at him, trying to discern if that was a joke or not, then guffawed loudly when she decided it was. "Getting my ass slapped by horny dwarves and meekly sitting on laps? No thank you, I'll take my chances on the battlefield." She drained the rest of her ale, shaking the last few drops onto her thick, blue tongue before slamming the mug down on the table. "And if you call me "m'lady" again I'll bite your face off!"

The paladin laughed. "Fair enough."

The tabaxi walked by and Junria tugged the servant girl's tail. "Hey, puss, I'm dry here!"

The feline was unable to conceal the reflexive cringe at the barbarian's scarred and reptilian visage, but Junria took no notice. "Y–yes, sir. I'll bring more at once!" The girl's face softened upon noticing Frederick. "Shall I bring you one as well?"

"Naw, he doesn't drink for some reason."

"Actually," Frederick amended, "I believe I will have one."

"Right away!" the feline promised as she hurried off.

Junria bit the mutton bone in half with a loud crunch, swallowing it down as she eyed him suspiciously.

"It's rude of me to make you drink alone," he reasoned. "I was only refraining because... well, I have a habit of making rash decisions when influenced. I trust you'll mind that I don't have too much?"

"Ha! No chance! I want to see what sort of trouble you can get into." Junria finished off the bone before licking her fingers.

The serving girl returned with a jug and a tankard, mindful to approach their table from Frederick's side. Setting his drink first before leaning over him to pour for Junria. The fur of her bare breast brushed the side of his face.

"Pardon my reach, sir."

"Quite all right, dear."

The tabaxi spied the book lying on the table and tapped her finger on it. "Ooh, I've read this one!"

"Have you?"

"Yes! Five times! So romantic how they found each other even after what her brother did to him at the Crystal Cave. Oh, the ending made me weep every time when she thought that he was... well, I won't spoil it."

"I appreciate that."

The feline shot a sneer toward a topless half-elf. "I lent it to Rohdee and she has never given it back. I'll bet she sold it." She shook off the ill-fitting expression and smiled. "I'm sorry, sir. Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"I believe we have what we need for the moment, thank you."

She put a paw on his shoulder. "Well, if there is anything else, my name is Mika."

"Thank you, Mika."

As Mika worked through the tavern, hips and tail swaying, Junria rubbed her jaw thoughtfully. "What sort of book is that?"

"The Wolf and the Lady," Frederick explained. "It's about a princess who's lover was bitten by a lycan."

"Sounds like a story that ends badly."

Frederick chuckled. "It's an amorous tragedy, they always end badly, usually with one or both of the main characters committing suicide or otherwise perishing to an avoidable end. Can't live without each other so they choose not to."

"And that's romantic?"

"Very much so."

Junria shook her head as she picked up her drink. "Softies," she murmured.

The paladin took up his mug and paused thoughtfully. "To fallen companions?" he suggested as he raised it.

"Hear," Junria agreed as they both drank.

As the evening wore on and the mugs were regularly drained the two suffered from the standard aliments of drinking; nearsightedness combined with loss of hearing, which caused them to sit closer yet talk louder. Junria suffered more acutely due to a combination of higher intake and her species' poor tolerance for alcohol. She leaned on Frederick for support with an arm around his shoulders.

"Everyone else jush –hic– jush kept going and left me behind. I can't blame nobody for that, th' gnolls wuz all over us. It was crazy fir a while and ever'one wuz losin' their heads. Some lit'rally. I want to thank you, Mr. Paladin man, fir keeping yours and shtopping fir me."

"My dear Ms. Lizard Lady, you already thanked me twice."

"I wanna thank you three times!" Junria held up four fingers. "You know, you'resh not a half bad fighter neither. I wuz watchin'. Gutted more than your fair share. Maybe almost as much as I did."

"I could have gotten a few more if I didn't need to help a certain someone."

The lizard laughed. "You'resh gonna blame me, huh? I wuz fighting all alone there fir a while. Lucky I stood as long as I did, right?"

"You did great."

Junria clutched onto him, and pulled him closer, attempting to smother him with her larger frame. Her ale soured breath in his face as she tapped a finger earnestly on his chest. "You'resh good for a shoftie. I'll fight at your side anywhere, anytime, y'hear? Anyone ever gives you trouble, you –hic– let me know. I'll set them straight."

Frederick grinned. "Who would give me trouble with you around?"

"Nobody, that'sh who!" She ran her claws down his chest. "Wow, you sure are warm! Like a big meat pillow. How can you shtand all this heavy clothes?"

"Are you looking to get me out of them?"

"Ha!" Junria shoved Frederick, nearly toppling him off the bench. She fumbled for her mug to find it empty. Growling, she struggled to her feet. "Freddie, you make that puss bring me 'nother. I need ta step."

Seeing how unstable she was, Frederick stood. Though he needed to rest a hand on the table due to his own wobbliness. "Do you require any assistance?"

"When I need help pisshin' in an alley you can end me!" With that she staggered away, her thick tail smacking patrons as it labored to maintain her balance while she made for the door. Frederick sat back down and swirled what remained in the bottom of his mug. Seeing he was alone, the tabaxi approached the table.

"Ready to settle up, sir? Your friend looks like he's about done."

"I don't think we're going to call it a night yet, Mika. Best top us off."

"I'm afraid we ran out of the fresh batch about an hour ago," Mika warned. "We've been cutting old stuff that's gone a bit sour."

Frederick belched softly into his fist. "Yeah, I noticed. No matter, we're beyond tasting anything and weak sauce won't make us worse."

She poured for them with a frown while resting a paw on his shoulder. "I feel bad charging anybody for this."

"Then don't," Frederick suggested flippantly.

"No way! The head lady will shave my tail and call me a rat!"

He picked up his drink. "I'm sure she wouldn't be that dreadful."

"It takes a month for it to grow back. Ask me how I know."

"Ah."

Mika ran her paw over his shoulders leaning closer to him with her back straight, as if perhaps he had not yet noticed that her breasts were exposed and needed a closer look. "But she let me stay on here even when I muck up so she's not all bad. It's not like I have any whelps at home to care for, but it's hard for a single tabaxian to get work around here. I mean, besides the street or a washerwoman. I'm not forced to do that so I guess I owe her a lot. This can be pretty tough sometimes, but we got the boys to keep things under control." She motioned the pitcher toward an orc who was in the process of picking his nose.

"Who keeps them under control?"

"The head lady's husband. Rumor is he's part bugbear and can be as mean as one when he wants to. They're terrified of him so they don't give us any trouble aside from an occasional grope when he's not looking." Mika traced her thumb lightly at the base of his neck. "So your friend is pretty deep in his cup. When he settles in under the table what are you going to do? Have any plans for tonight?"

Frederick picked up his book. "The last few chapters. Other than that I don't have anything on my agenda."

"Oh... Well, I was thinking since I'm almost done here for today and tomorrow is my day off... if we both don't have much going on..."

"You want me to read it to you?"

"What? No... I mean, I adore that story, but I was thinking more—"

Frederick snapped his fingers. "I got it! Since you appreciate fine literature, once I'm done I'd be happy to give it to you to replace the one your friend lost."

"No, I... really?"

"Absolutely. Before we ship out I'll leave it here for you."

"That's too kind of you, sir, but I can't accept that."

"Of course you can. I never read a story more than once so it would go to waste if I kept it. At least this way you can enjoy it at your leisure."

"Thank you very much, sir, but what I'm trying to say..." Mika was clearly flustered by the obtuse paladin and attempted a direct approach: "Well, it's just that I do a little side work from time to time and—"

"HEY! You'resh blocking the isle!" Junria shoved her way past a drunken soldier as she returned to the table then stumbled onto the bench next to Frederick. "You fill me up?" She grabbed her mug. "Oh, good. Hey, Puss, is it true what they –hic– say about ginger tabaxi?"

Mika frowned and planted a paw on her hip. "Yes, but today is my day to use it. Which is more than a lizard gets."

"Oh-ho!" Junria slapped Frederick on the back. "Puss has claws!"

Mika gave the table a halfhearted wipe with a cloth. "I have some other customers that are giving me a stink-eye. I'll leave you gentlemen to it."

"Don't shtray too far away, kitty," Junria giggled as Mika walked away.

"A bit rude, don't you think?" Frederick admonished.

"Bah!" Junria waved a hand dismissively before leaning on his shoulder with a conspiratorial gleam in her eye. "She shmells like she's in heat every time she gets near you, practically beggin' fir it. Not one "rash decshision" yet. Don't ya like them with fur?"

Frederick rolled the mug between his hands. "I admit she is a lovely lady, alas I cannot."

"What? Why not? Are you –hic– broken or shomethin'?"

"No, nothing like that."

"Tail-bugger?"

"Ria!"

Junria raised her claws up. "It'sh no differensh to me if you are."

"No... I'm not that."

"Then what?"

He sighed. "I've taken vows to abstain from physical congress."

She had a bemused moment of silence as she worked out the unusual term for something so basic. Incapable of containing her revulsion once she did.

"You'rsh not allowed to fuck?"

"I am certainly not allowed to do that!"

"How th' hell can ya live like that? Fuckin' is th' only thing better than fightin'! Why, if I couldn't..." Junria stopped herself, recalling that the two who had provided her with mating options were no longer around. It was a sobering realization. "That... that'sh a cruel thing for a goddess to make you do."

"She didn't make me do anything, I took the vows willingly," Frederick defended. "In a spiritual sense She is my wife and I am obliged only to Her. My body is still mine, but my Lady Arura places high value upon devotion, therefore I must take wedding vows before I can engage physically with another."

Junria indicated toward the tabaxi with the mug. "Oh, well if that'sh all it takes, than marry the puss. At the rate we'resh goin' we'll all be dead in a month and you won't be her problem anyway. Hell, half these guys get –hic– get married in every town we shtop at. They got mates all up and down the coast."

"That's something I cannot condone. It's a savage thing to force so many widows and it defiles the sanctity of the ceremony to use it so casually. I refuse to be a part of it. Do you think it is fair to marry a woman when I have no possibility of carrying out my end of the contract?"

"I donno." The conversation was too heady for Junria to engage with in her inebriated state, not to mention a subject she scarcely understood when sober. The mating ceremony of the soft-skins was an unneeded excess. If you want to mate someone just do it. Why involve a complicated ritual with rules? Why would anyone limit their offspring to a single individual? What if they chose a weak breeder... or a barren one? Junria didn't care for how the subject altered Frederick's demeanor and desired to lighten the mood.

"Heh, why don't you just marry me and be done wit' it?"

She knocked back the drink in a single gulp and licked her lips before noticing that Frederick the Grave was eyeing her, appearing grave indeed. She wasn't particularly good at interpreting the nuances of softskin's varied facial contortions. She knew angry, terrified, and happy, but she was unclear about the firm expression and it caused her to flinch.

"What? Did I say s'methin' wrong?"

"No, but if you'll forgive me for this." Frederick put a hand on the side of the lizard's face and spoke: "My Lady Arura grants thee Her favor."

Junria's eyes widened as the fuzzy, tipsy world around her snapped into solid clarity. She recoiled from his touch, realizing with dismay that her breath had the flavor of rancid vomit. "What did... did you just undrunk me?"

"After all that work you did to get there, I apologize for that, but you offered something that I'm obligated to consider sincerely." He took her hand in both of his. "Something that should only be offered by the lucid."

She glanced down at his hands, then into his eyes and her heart reacted by trying to shove itself in her throat. How the hell does he do that to her? It's not like she finds him attractive. He's just... interesting. She should have control over her heart but it's beating harder than it should without her regard and making her breath quicken. Like it would when she was amid a battle...

...or during a particularly fierce mating engagement.

"What's happening?"

"Perhaps nothing," Frederick said, "perhaps everything. Junria, do you understand what marriage is?"

"It's... uh, it's a ritual where softies claim breeding rights over each other."

"Yes, but also no. Marriage is a union that goes beyond simple intercourse and creating spawn. It is a sacrifice of oneself in order to achieve a new whole. To give up all that you are to gain twice what you could be. A joining of body, blood, and soul. To abandon all others and bind yourself to one in return for everything that they are. All the good and all the bad. To share in everything without hesitation, without fear, and without regret. Joy and suffering. Feast and famine. Victory and defeat. Marriage creates a bond that is beyond even the power of gods to sunder. Properly forged this bond acts not as chains but wings that can grant the ability to soar to heights never before imagined. Since I may place no other before Her, know that whoever I take as my bride shall be made the living manifestation of Lady Arura."

Junria's yellow eyes darted nervously. "That's... wow, that's something, isn't it?"

Frederick smirked. "Truth be told, I stole part of that from a story I read, but that is my understanding of marriage."

She thought for a moment. "And your wife would become a goddess?"

"To me, at least. My Lady has no cathedrals of stone nor shrines of marble. My bride would become the temple in which I worship, and my Lady commanded that my temple must find me. I'm overjoyed to discover that it's you."

Junria chuckled, but the sincerity in his manner revealed that this was not a joke. She jerked her talons from his grasp. "Wait! What?"

"You offered marriage to me."

"I did? No I... I mean... I was drunk!"

"And now you're not."

"No, Freddie, you don't really think... me and you?"

His expression became pained. "Is there something wrong with me?"

"No, that's not..." Junria rubbed her head. "I–I'm a little confused. Why me?" She nodded toward Mika. "Why not her? She was practically climbing in your pants."

"The temple must find me," Frederick restated. "She has shown interest, but only in offering her body. You have offered your hand. That makes all the difference."

She shook her head. This can't happen, can it? "Freddie, I like you. Really, I do... but I'm not like you. Not just because of what I am." She examined his face, trying to guess at his age. Twenty, maybe? If that. Young and flawless, unlike her. She understood humans value virginity, especially among their women since they all pretend to be so. "My kind aren't like yours. I've had others. You know that, right?"

"What you were before doesn't matter, we each have a past that cannot and should not be undone. So long as you can stay true and loyal to me, I can promise the same for you. When so many others have fled you remain willing to follow our commander into the jaws of death. Your loyalty is not in question."

"It's more than that. The tribe shaman deemed me an unfit breeder." She touched a scar across the top of her nose that was different than her other scars. Not an incidental injury, but a purposeful mark carved into her skin for all to see. "This brand means I've been forced to drink the Water of Emptiness and it took away my eggs. I am what my people call "Chikossh"; a wet hole only for pleasure. Even if I wasn't..." Softskins regularly interbreed and create hybrids—the tavern contained several examples of such—but a cold-blood and a warm-blood? She never heard of any.

"You don't want me."

Frederick reached for her hand again and she didn't resist. "I seek more in a partner than a simple incubator for my young. I seek someone who is strong, and brave and sure. Someone who can stand by my side against any threat. A stalwart warrior and loyal friend as well as a lover. If that is you, I want you. In fact, I need you."

She groaned. "What you're asking... it's—"

"You asked me, remember? Or are you withdrawing that offer?"

That sounded like a challenge and she was not ready to back down. "Not yet." She silently cursed herself. Her tribe could not tolerate the hesitation that spawned from her slow judgment. They saw it as a corruption of the mind and that she was inferior, someone who thinks and plans themselves into inaction. To weigh options was against the nature of things. A lizard should just do and not have doubts. One of them would have already laughed and punched him in the face without consideration. The paladin waited patiently and she squeezed his hand. He was so soft and so hot! She had never even mated a warm-blood before and now he was expecting that she would commit herself to one forever. She had seen naked human males before and found them to be unimpressive. How does that exposed, floppy stuff work anyway? What if it's awful? He's a virgin, of course it's going to be awful! To spend the rest of her life with only that and never again with her own kind? Of course, the commander seems determined to get them all killed, so the rest of her life probably wasn't going to be that long. She may never see another of her kind, and to have the devotion of a paladin who has vowed to stand by her side until death?

"Is this one of your "rash decisions"?" she wondered aloud.

"That remains to be seen. Rash or not, have you made your decision?"

"Yes."

"Then if it is your desire to be my temple, make your offer again."