The journey begins with a nice walk.

Unfortunately, Trannelis is quick to redress herself and put her breastplate as soon as you finish breakfast. And as much as you’d love to ogle her a little more, or maybe to take a quick look at your Grimoire for an explanation about this “mana” stuff, you instead follow suit and get ready for the journey ahead. It doesn't take you more than a moment to conjure back up your fancy new duds from yesterday, but packing your travelling backpack is a little trickier. About half an hour after you started, the two of you are on the road nearing the edge of town. As you crest over the last hill, you turn back to look over the sleepy hamlet, and feel a twinge of sadness at your parting. It’s an odd feeling, considering you only saw the place for the first time yesterday, but there it is nonetheless.

But when you turn back around, there’s someone up on this hill with you. Leaning on the sign at the edge of town is the milkmaid from the day before, Keena. She's barefoot, as halflings usually are, and she's wearing a cute little white sundress, like she's dressed for a day of summer fun. But her face tells another story, as she's looking up at you with tears welling in her eyes. Aw damn, you must've been her favorite customer on her milk route. Still, it's sweet that she came all the way up here before sunrise to say goodbye.

“So, you’re leaving then, Prince?” she asks, lingering on the last word for a bit. It must be the first time she's called you that, huh?

You walk up to her, and get down on one knee so your eyes are level with one another. “Well, yeah. I… kinda have to, I guess.”

She nods, getting a lot more from your words than you think you intended. And without warning, she throws her arms around your shoulders and pulls you into a hug. She quietly whispers, “I’ll never forget your kindness, Crofton. I don't care if you're a human, or a prince, or whatever. You'll always have a home here in Wayshire.” And then she pulls your face to hers and kisses you square on the lips.

It’s… well, it’s not exactly a chaste kiss. She doesn’t go for tongue, but it’s definitely got a lot of emotion behind it. Sure enough, as the memories suddenly flood your brain, you realize why. Whoever this Crofton guy was before you got here, he knew Keena very well. Like, intimately well. You recall a particular memory of a naked Keesha lounging by the fireside in your cottage, her tanned skin and wonderful shortstack curves emphasized by the crackling firelight. It transitions again into another memory, this one of her riding on top of you with Crofton’s frankly ludicrously sized cock buried deep in her snatch, a sensual smile on her face and her body shaking in ecstasy. Holy fuck, how did she even fit that thing inside of her? Magic?

Yeah, probably.

But then she brings you back to the present as she separates from your lips, her eyes welling with tears. “You’ll come back home someday, right?” she asks, her voice wavering.

“Of course I will,” you respond, maybe a little too enthusiastically. She giggles, smiling through the tears, but lets you go.

Trannellis, for her part, is watching this whole scene with a professional detachment, and as you stand up, you turn to her and gesture towards the road. She begins walking, and you keep pace behind her, turning back to give one last wave to Keesha. She waves back, a smile on her face, her body outlined by the sun as it crests over the hill.

It’s a while, maybe fifteen minutes, before you address Trannellis as you walk down the path. “Uh, sorry about that. We go way back, you know. Back to when I first… moved in.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Crofton,” she responds surprisingly warmly. “You’re a wizard, after all. There’s only so much you can… ‘take care of’ by yourself.”

“Uh huh,” you reply, not quite understanding.

“I'm guessing she was a close friend then."

You nod. "Oh yeah, she'd come by every morning to drop off milk."

She laughs a little. "Your mana does seems to attract 'milkmaids', as it were," she replies, gesturing towards her chest. She's still got it wrapped up, but the implication is clear regardless. "It’s a good thing she’s not as mana sensitive as Elves can be,” she continues, “Or she’d be easily twice my current size by now.”

“Really?” you respond, and make a note to remember that next time you opened the Grimoire.

“Assuming the mana distributed itself the same way mine did, of course,” she keeps going, seemingly content to speculate by herself. “I imagine you have to be very careful with certain partners, right Crofton?”

You nod. “Oh yeah, totally. Very careful.”

She smiles. “Considering your prodigious production from last night, even with their average sensitivity, you could’ve had that whole village overstuffed with mana.”

“You think so?” You reply, tring not to think about that too much, lest you let all your thinking blood go to the wrong head.

“Perhaps not,” she admits after considering it for a moment, “but if you had chosen a village populated by a more sensitive species, like Pixies or Goblins, I’d doubt they’d ever let you leave.” She chuckles a little. “You know how we magically sensitive races can get, you know.”

“For sure,” you say, REALLY hoping for some sort of memory flash at this point. It would be super convenient of you, Wizard brain.

“Although I have to admit I am curious about the specifics of your relationship with that milkmaid, Crofton,” she continues, a playful glint in her eye as she looks to the side and directs her gaze below your belt. “I mean, you're not exactly halfling sized, after all.”

You cough, feeling your erection snaking down your leg again. Fuck, this girl is just egging you on now. Well two can play at that game! “A gentleman never tells,” you say, remembering some quote you saw on Twitter, “And a lady never asks.”

She swats at your shoulder. “You’re so rude! Insulting me to my face like that. And I thought a Prince would at least have some manners!” she shouts, faux scandalized.

You can’t help but laugh. “Says the woman who's asking some very personal questions."

The two of you continue on like that for some time, leisurely walking down the path and joking like old friends. The conversation flows easily between you, and you start to think that taking that job was the smartest thing you ever did.

Hours pass in friendly company, and the sky begins to turn orange with the lowering sun, before the gentle rolling hills of the lands outside of the halfling territory begin to give way to the plains. Out here, you conveniently learned from Trannelis, there's basically just miles of farmland inhabited mostly by humans, with a couple scattered towns to dot the landscape. As you walk, you've seen a few farmhouses alongside their fields, but no people. Then again, with how late in the day it is, it's unlikely anybody's doing much work. And it must be fairly close to harvest season, because the ears of corn in the field you're passing by at the moment have grown plenty fat on their stalks. Wait, corn? That's strange. I mean, you're no historian, but you've seen Pocahontas, and Europeans had never seen corn before they made their way to the Americas, right?

Well, it's not like you were in Europe anyway. Europe didn't have halfling burrows, or sexy elves. Or wizards, for that matter. At least, you're pretty sure they didn't. I mean, you could shoot fire from your hand now, a lot of things you thought you knew about the world have been proven wrong. Maybe this magical fantasy realm just didn't care much for historical believability?

You're shaken from your thoughts when Trannelis gets your attention, nudging you in the side. "Hey Crofton, it's getting late, and there's a town ahead. What's say we not bother with a tent and just find an inn?"

"Oh yeah," you reply. "Sure. What town's up ahead?"

She smiles, a little mockingly, at you. "If you were looking ahead instead of being caught up in your own mind, you'd know." She points behind her with her thumb at a nearby sign on the side of the road. It looks like it's carved from a single piece of wood, the unpainted grain giving it a very rustic feel. It proudly proclaims:

"Cleethorpes: The Town Where The Corn Grows."

You smile at the goofy little sign. "I guess that's a point of pride for them, then?"

Trannelis shrugs. "I wouldn't know. We didn't stop here when I passed through with the Seneschal. He was quite adamant we continue through the night to reach your home in Wayshire as soon as possible."

You frown. "Yeah, I bet. Well, anyway, let's go get us some beds," you say as you begin to walk forwards.

Trannelis is quick to step back into pace alongside you, but she's got that playful glint back in her eyes. "Really? I mean... do we need more than one? I was kind of hoping to... well, satisfy my curiosity, as it were."

You stop and turn to her, as her face starts to turn a little red. "Well alright then!" you say as you grab her hand and power forward, now walking a little faster than before. She has no problem keeping up with you, but as you walk, she seems to keep glancing down at your connected hands, smiling all the while.

Oh yeah, this girl was a keeper.