1: How About Not Taking Every Job That Falls Into Our Laps?

The tavern was a war zone.

Hey, I see you over there, leaping to conclusions. This one wasn't my fault, okay?

It was like a scene straight out of hell, though. Punching, kicking, biting. Overturned tables. Food flying everywhere-some still on the plate.

What a tragic waste...

See, we were in this little joint here in Atlas City, and while the dining wasn't bad, the diners were bottom-of-the-barrel. Seriously. Mercenaries, punks, and lowlifes, the lot of 'em. There are certain places that just draw those kinds of people naturally, and this was apparently one of them. The melee had become self-sustaining at this point, and didn't seem like it would be winding down any time soon.

Ah, there's another one down.

Oh, and so you don't go getting the wrong idea, I'm not any of those things I just said. I'm no mercenary, I ain't no punk, and I'm certainly not a lowlife. I just wanted some good food. This place gets rave reviews, and a brawl just so happened to break out while I was there. I was under no obligation to participate. I'm a pacifist, see? So, like any good pacifist, I was crouching under a table in a corner, munching on some chicken and watching the show.

How'd this all get started, you ask? Well, it was the silliest little thing. See...

"Hey. You on your own, babe?"

The guy making a pass at me chose to do it while I was sitting at the counter, polishing off my fourth bowl of noodle soup. He was a redhead and not especially good-looking, though I guess he wasn't without his charm. I pegged the bastard sword on his back as his weapon of choice, and his outfit consisted of a rough-hewn tunic, pants, boots, and leather armor. Basically your typical mercenary type.

I gave the guy a once-over, then turned back to my now-empty bowl.

"I've got a companion. I'll try the chicken sauté next, if you please," I responded flippantly as I put in my next order with the cook.

The man let out a whistle, then tutted at me with a wag of his finger. I guess he thought it made him look cool.

"Hey, don't be an ice queen. If this companion of yours is leavin' a charmer like you on her own, he ain't much for me to worry about, is he?" he said, brazenly putting a hand on my shoulder.

I wasn't gonna object to the "charmer" part (I am extremely charming, obviously), but if I humored every guy who laid a line like that on me, I wouldn't last a month.

"So, what's your name?"

"..."

"I'm Lantz."

"..."

"C'mon, say somethin'."

Brush.

I felt a strange sensation on my backside. Wait, did he just cop a damned feel?! My hand moved before I knew it, snatching a nearby tray from the counter and slamming it down on his head. I was expecting a proper "thunk," but instead I got...

Crack!

Huh, that was louder than I expected... Oh, crap, I nailed him with the corner of the tray! But this was legitimate self-defense! I swear! I mean... wasn't it?

"Blarghragh!" Lantz let out an overdramatic scream, reeled around in an exaggerated fashion, and crashed into a nearby table.

Of course, there were people sitting at that table.

"Hey! The hell're you doin'?!"

One of them shoved Lantz hard, sending him flying... right into another table. Naturally, the same kind of ruckus repeated itself there.

And soon enough, the whole place had broken out into a brawl.

See? When you break it down step-by-step, this Lantz guy was really the one who started it! I was an innocent victim of circumstance! Don't you agree?!

"Say, Lina, why is the person who started all this hiding down here?"

A familiar voice abruptly interrupted my thoughts, and I turned to see a good-looking blond guy wearing a black breastplate and a longsword. He was crouched down next to the table, peering at me suspiciously. This was my aforementioned (recently-acquired) traveling companion, Gourry.

"The person who started all this? What're you talkin' about?" I asked as I took a bite of some fried fish.

Gourry promptly reached for some of the on-the-bone meat I'd been saving on my plate and took a bite himself.

"I'm talking about you. You knocked that guy out with the corner of a tray, didn't you?"

"You saw that?!"

"As I was coming back from the washroom."

"Hey, I was the victim! He started hitting on me, and then he touched my freakin' butt! My butt! And without even paying!"

"...You let people pay for that?"

"That's not what I'm saying!"

"Do you even know what you are saying?"

"Of course not!"

"Look..." Gourry sighed, putting his fingers to his temples. "You could've shown a little restraint. That way, I could've laid him out later in a more discreet manner."

I glared at him.

"There are times you absolutely should not show restraint, not even for a second! You only talk so high and mighty about it because you've never had your butt fondled by some weirdo jerk!"

"Well, I suppose that is true..." Gourry scratched his head, looking troubled for a moment before turning his attention back to the intensifying brawl. "Still, you can't just let this go on."

"What? You think my involvement would deescalate things?"

I mean, it's true that rushing out there with a Fireball would give everyone something bigger to worry about... But I had one small reservation about that plan: I came here to eat, not to get arrested.

"Yeah, you're right. You'd probably just make things worse."

"Then it's best if I just wait it out here, see?"

"Hmm..." Gourry fell pensively silent.

"Actually, maybe you're right. I should do my part to try and break this up... Oh, I know!" I raised a declarative finger. "How about this? I'll suddenly scream and fall over. Meanwhile, you'll be standing over me, sword in hand, and say something like, 'Heh, too easy.' I bet everyone'll stop fighting to gawk."

Gourry scowled at this idea. "And you'll clear me of murder afterwards... how, praytell?"

"Eh, well... we'll figure something out."

"I need a better plan than that! I could end up arrested!"

"C'mon, that's just part of the fun!"

"It most certainly is not!"

"Jeez, you're a stick in the mud. But, hmm, in that case..."

Just as I was about to share my next great idea, a sudden gust of wind blew through the pub and quickly quieted the chaos within. Traveling like a wave radiating out from the door, it hushed the shouts and jeers of combat into shocked whispers.

Gourry stood up and looked toward the pub entrance, letting out a curious hum. Intrigued by the commotion, I also got to my feet behind him and peeked out to see the source of the new disturbance.

At the door stood a man who appeared to be cloaked in darkness. He had long, ebony hair and wore some kind of black tunic made of a material I didn't recognize. A scarf covered his mouth, and he wore a kind of longsword on his back that I wasn't familiar with.

He looked about the same age as Gourry, not much over twenty or so... but rather than Gourry's noncommittal air, he had a menacing quality about him that sent a chill up my spine. That was precisely what had hushed the other patrons so suddenly.

It was immediately apparent that this man was a skilled swordsman-skilled enough for Gourry to take note of him, anyway. In summary: dude was good-looking enough, but definitely also the kind of guy you want to give a wide berth at all times.

"I'm looking for bodyguards," he said.

His voice was exactly what you'd expect, cold yet crisp... Yeah, like an over-sharpened blade, you could say.

"If you want money and have confidence in your skills, then speak up. Master Talim is the sponsor. The job pays well," he continued bluntly.

Hmm... I'd give him a C minus on his pitch, but an A for clarity. Nevertheless, the inside of the pub remained as quiet and still as a wasteland.

See, there was currently a bit of a kerfuffle going on here in Atlas City. The chairman of the city's sorcerers' council, Halciform the White, went missing about six months ago. His two vice chairmen, Talim the Purple and Daymia the Blue, had been fighting for his seat ever since. Mr. All Black was apparently here recruiting for Talim's side.

Obviously, I wasn't interested in getting drawn into someone else's power struggle, but...

"I'll hear him out," I said, standing up.

"Wait, you're-"

The guy who cut in was the jerk who'd started the brawl by touching my butt, the vile and villainous Lantz. After his afore-described inauspicious opener, he'd spent most of the fight getting knocked around in a similar fashion. His face was accordingly in rough shape.

Aw, poor baby! Hee hee hee...

But though Lantz cut in on me, one look from the man in black...