Confirmed Adventuring Partners
Sylvan woke slowly. Warmth surrounded him first. Warm blankets. Warm sunlight filtering faintly through heavy curtains. And beneath his cheek-
Warm muscle.
His eyes fluttered open blearily. For one confused moment he simply stared at the broad freckled chest beneath him before memory came flooding back all at once.
The bath. The ritual. Fij’s hands. Tristan’s mouth. Golden resonance swirling through firelight. Heat climbed instantly into Sylvan’s face. Then he realized Tristan was already awake.
The massive mercenary lay propped slightly against the pillows, one thick arm draped lazily around Sylvan’s waist while he stared down at him with the softest, dopiest smile imaginable.
Caught. Tristan’s freckles stood vivid in the morning light. Copper hair fell messily around his face after sleep, and his blue eyes looked unbearably fond.
Sylvan narrowed his own suspiciously.
“…How long have you been awake?”
Tristan’s grin widened.
“A while.”
“You absolute creep.”
“You looked cute.”
Sylvan groaned quietly and buried his face briefly against Tristan’s right pec again. It smelled warm and masculine - skin, lingering cedar smoke, faint sweat, and Tristan himself beneath it all. Comforting now in a way Sylvan was becoming dangerously attached to.
Tristan chuckled low in his chest. “I didn’t wanna wake you,” he admitted softly. “You were drooling on me a little.”
Sylvan jerked upright immediately. “I was not.”
“You absolutely were.”
“Liar.” Sylvan pointed accusingly at him while trying very hard not to smile.
Only then did he notice the other side of the bed was empty. Fij was gone. The lingering warmth in the sheets beside Tristan suggested he hadn’t left long ago.
Sylvan blinked once. “Where’s-”
“Left early,” Tristan answered. “Capital caravan apparently waits for nobody.”
There was a strange softness in Tristan’s voice while he said it. Not sadness exactly. But fondness. Fij had somehow managed to crash into their lives, change them fundamentally, teach them advanced resonance theory, and disappear again in under a week.
Very Fij behavior honestly, or at least what little Sylvan knew of Fij Whiteburn.
Tristan shifted upward slightly against the pillows.
“He said goodbye earlier while you were still unconscious,” he explained. “Packed all his stuff into that weird little bag.”
Sylvan immediately perked up. “Spatial compression satchel?”
“Probably. Looked impossible.”
Alchemy. Always ridiculous. Tristan nodded toward the table nearby.
“He left you a note too. And your reward.”
Sylvan twisted immediately toward it. Sure enough-
A heavy pouch of gold sat beside several folded papers. And atop them rested a small official parchment of thick paper bearing the Alchemy Guild sigil. Sylvan stared. Then grabbed it immediately.
His breath caught softly. The surface shimmered faintly with authentication runes. Official, real. His first completed guild certification.
“One of seven…” he whispered.
He’d done it. Six more licenses. Six more major assignments. Six more successful journeys. And he would become a fully licensed guild alchemist. The realization hit surprisingly hard after everything they’d experienced recently.
Tristan watched him quietly from the bed with unmistakable pride.
“Told you you’d get it.”
Sylvan looked back at him.
A little overwhelmed suddenly.
“You helped.”
Tristan shrugged one massive shoulder casually.
“Yeah. But you earned it.” Behind him Tristan stretched both thick arms overhead with a long groaning yawn. The movement pulled every muscle along his chest and stomach taut beneath the blankets.
Sylvan immediately got distracted. Again.
Honestly it was becoming a serious problem. Tristan noticed the staring almost instantly and smirked sleepily.
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Looking at me like you wanna climb me.”
Sylvan rolled his eyes. “Your ego has become unbearable.”
“Mhm.”
Then Tristan pointed lazily toward the chair near the door.
“Oh. He left us those too.”
Folded neatly across the chair were new traveling clothes.
Sylvan climbed from the bed first, blankets slipping from smooth pale skin while Tristan openly admired the view without shame. Last night’s marks still faintly decorated Sylvan’s body - fingerprints along his hips, soft bruises near his throat and chest, lingering bite marks along one shoulder.
The new coat waiting for Sylvan nearly made him laugh aloud. “Of course Fij picked this.”
The garment was stunning. Deep midnight blue trimmed with silver resonance embroidery, fitted tightly through the waist with open side panels exposing toned hips and portions of stomach whenever he moved. The neckline plunged scandalously low across the chest while translucent layered sleeves attached loosely around the upper arms.
It was elegant and expensive. And unmistakably designed by a Fleshcrafter with absolutely no shame whatsoever.
There was even a note pinned to it:
Stop dressing like a provincial apothecary. - F
Sylvan barked out helpless laughter.
Meanwhile Tristan lifted the leather harness left for him. Dyed rich dark blue with silver buckles and reinforced traveling straps crossing broad shoulders and chest. Practical enough for mercenary work - but gods above, clearly chosen to emphasize Tristan’s physique.
Which it absolutely did. The harness framed his massive chest beautifully once he strapped it on. Freckles scattered across exposed muscle while the dark leather hugged broad shoulders and thick arms perfectly. Sylvan actually forgot how to speak for a moment.
Tristan noticed immediately.
“…What?”
Sylvan swallowed once.
“You look illegally attractive.”
A blush exploded across Tristan’s freckled cheeks instantly.
“Oh.”
Then he looked Sylvan over in the new coat. And immediately suffered the exact same problem.
Because the fitted garment transformed Sylvan from beautiful traveling alchemist into outright dangerous temptation. The deep blue fabric made his blond curls and bright eyes stand out vividly while the open sides exposed smooth toned skin every time he moved.
They both stood there blushing like idiots for several long seconds.
And unfortunately-
The memories of the previous night did not help. Every glance downward immediately summoned images of Fij between theml; The bath, the rug before the fire, the sounds they’d pulled from each other. Tristan rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck.
“So…” he muttered. “Think we’ll ever stop blushing around each other about sex?”
Sylvan considered that seriously for a moment. Then smiled slowly.
“Honestly?”
Tristan grinned already.
“Probably not.”
And somehow-
That made both of them even more excited for whatever came next.
— — — —
The lobby of the Alchemist Guild smelled of fresh bread, bitter tea, parchment, and alchemical herbs drying somewhere nearby.
Morning light streamed through the tall guild windows in warm golden bars while traveling alchemists and apprentices moved lazily through the space nursing drinks and discussing contracts. Crystal lanterns still glowed faintly overhead despite the sunrise, their amber mana-light blending softly with daylight.
Sylvan and Tristan sat together near one of the side windows with plates of breakfast between them.
Fresh bread, soft cheese, roasted mushrooms, spiced eggs, and strong tea.
Neither man realized how starving they were until the food arrived. Tristan especially looked nearly feral attacking his breakfast. Sylvan watched him for a long moment over the rim of his teacup.
The new harness looked even better in daylight. Unfortunately. Dark blue leather crossed Tristan’s massive chest snugly beneath his open traveling shirt, emphasizing broad shoulders and thick arms still faintly marked from last night. His copper hair remained slightly damp from washing earlier, tied loosely back now in a way that somehow only made him look more handsome.
Sylvan hated how distracting he was. Or loved it. Probably both.
Tristan caught him staring again mid-bite and grinned immediately.
“What?”
“You eat like a wild animal.”
“Efficiently.”
“That’s not the word I’d use.”
Tristan laughed loudly enough that two apprentices nearby glanced over curiously. Gods, his laugh was infectious. Warm and open and impossible not to smile at. Sylvan looked down at his tea before the expression on his own face became too obvious.
Then, quieter this time, he ventured:
“So…”
Tristan looked up immediately.
Sylvan traced one finger idly along the rim of his cup.
“What are your plans now?”
The mercenary blinked once. Sylvan tried to sound casual.
“You know. Hunter’s Guild obligations. Mercenary contracts. Responsibilities.”
He stared very intently at his tea.
“…If we part ways here.”
Damn-
Even saying the possibility aloud made something unpleasant tighten briefly in his chest. Because somewhere over the past weeks the idea of continuing this journey without Tristan beside him had quietly become unbearable. Tristan stared at him for exactly two seconds.
Then burst out laughing.
Not mocking.
But warm and affectionate. He reached across the table and smacked Sylvan solidly between the shoulder blades with one massive hand.
Sylvan nearly choked on tea.
“Part ways?” Tristan barked out. “Sylvan, you’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future.”
Relief hit so fast and hard Sylvan almost felt dizzy from it. He kept his expression carefully composed anyway.
Mostly.
“Oh,” he replied, far too quickly. “Good.”
Tristan smirked knowingly. Sylvan immediately corrected himself:
“I mean-it’s good because I’ll obviously require your assistance moving forward.”
“Mhm.”
“Our resonance compatibility alone makes continued partnership academically logical.”
“Mhm.”
“It would be irresponsible to separate now.”
Tristan’s grin widened slowly with every increasingly transparent excuse. Sylvan lifted his chin defensively.
“The synchronization between us is extraordinarily rare.”
“Right,” Tristan said warmly. “That’s definitely the only reason.”
Sylvan narrowed his eyes. Tristan only laughed harder.
Gods he’s cute when he’s flustered, Tristan thought helplessly while watching Sylvan attempt to intellectualize obvious attachment. Eventually Tristan leaned back in his chair with a softer sigh.
“I probably should pick up some Hunter’s Guild contracts as we travel though,” he admitted. “Need to keep proper standing with the guild if I wanna maintain higher-rank work access.”
Sylvan nodded immediately.
“Then I’ll help.”
Tristan blinked.
“With what?”
“Alchemy support. Monster research. Tracking compounds. Medical aid. Bombs.” Sylvan gestured vaguely with one piece of bread. “You’ve already carried my life through several disasters. It’s more than fair.”
Tristan’s expression softened almost painfully. The fact Sylvan thought of helping him as fairness rather than affection somehow made it even sweeter.
“You don’t have to justify staying with me either,” Tristan murmured quietly.
Sylvan looked up sharply. For a second neither spoke. The noise of the guild hall faded softly around them. Because the truth sat there plainly between them now. Something deeper than the sex or the resonance rituals. Something both of them clearly felt but still danced carefully around like nervous idiots.
Tristan wanted to say it. Sylvan could see it in his eyes. But the words stayed trapped there for now. Instead Tristan smiled softly and reached over to steal a piece of bread from Sylvan’s plate. Sylvan immediately smacked his hand.
“That was mine.”
“You took too long.”
“You’re six-foot-five. Buy your own food.”
“You wound me.”
They both laughed quietly after that. Comfortable in a way that made several older guild members nearby exchange knowing looks over their morning drinks. Neither Tristan nor Sylvan noticed.
Outside the guild windows, Greybriar bustled with merchants, travelers, wagons, and adventurers beginning new journeys beneath the brightening sky.
Sylvan glanced toward the road north eventually.
His fingers brushed lightly over the guild stamp tucked safely inside his satchel.
“One down,” he murmured softly.
Tristan followed his gaze.
“So,” he asked, smiling already, “where to next, Professor?”
Sylvan’s blue eyes brightened immediately.
“Kruken Island.”
Tristan whistled low.
“The storm islands?”
“The very same.”
“That place is dangerous.”
Sylvan smirked over his teacup.
“Yes.”
Tristan groaned affectionately.
“Gods, you’re enjoying this.”
“A little.”
The mercenary laughed and pushed himself upright from the table with a stretch that pulled every muscle across his chest taut beneath the leather harness.
They had better get started walking. By foot it was almost a week away.
