A small crowd began to surround Gretta's stall as all eyes focused on Oreon and Grog. Grog, still wearing the overconfident smile on his face, peered down at Oreon, who only looked up at the taller, heavier man.
"Come on, boy." Grog provoked. "You're standing there like you want to do something. What's wrong? You gonna piss on yourself?"
Oreon didn't respond; he just continued to look up at the man who tried to bully him.
"Whether you like it or not, runt. You and I have some unfinished business." Grog narrowed his eyes at Oreon. "Now I won't repeat myself again, get on your knees and apologize, and maybe your beating won't be as bad as I want it to be." Grog threatened.
Oreon remained silent, his jaw clenched as he stared up at Grog. His fists tightened at his sides, and for a moment, it seemed like he might actually comply—to avoid causing a scene.
"No." The word came out simple and firm. Oreon straightened up his posture, his hazel eyes hardening. "I'm not apologizing for the crap you pulled yesterday. And I'm definitely not getting on my knees for someone like you."
The crowd murmured in surprise. Even Grog seemed momentarily taken aback, his grin faltering for just a second before it twisted into an ugly scowl.
"Why you little—" Grog's hand shot out, grabbing Oreon by the front of his shirt and yanking him forward so their faces were only inches apart. "You really want to try my patience today, huh, runt?" Grog seethed. "Do you know who I am? What I could I do to you? What I could have done to you?"
Oreon didn't flinch. "Yeah, I know exactly who you are." His voice remained steady. "You're Grog—the town's joke—the guy who picks fights with people who can't fight back. The guy who gets drunk and throws his weight around because it makes him feel good." He paused, his eyes boring into Grog's. "All of that, and you're nothing but a bully with an inflated ego and a drinking problem."
The crowd gasped—some out of shock, others out of amusement. Even Grog's crew exchanged uncertain glances, unsure whether to laugh or to step in.
Grog's face turned red—nearly steaming—as rage flooded through him. "You little shit stain—!" He reared back his fist, ready to slam it into Oreon's face—"
"That's enough!" Gretta immediately slammed her spatula down on the grill with a loud clang. "Grog! I've had enough of your crap to last a lifetime!" She gritted her teeth. "Release the boy now, or so help me."
"Stay out of this, woman!" Grog barked back without even looking at her. "This is between me and the boy. Stay in your place behind the grill and keep your mouth shut!" Grog exclaimed.
Gretta's face went red—not from embarrassment, but pure fury. "My place?!" She grabbed her spatula and pointed at Grog like a weapon. "You absolute no good, low life, piece of—"
"Let him go."
The voice was calm, too calm, with a hint of royalty laced within.
The heads of the crowd quickly turned to see that Celestia had risen from her seat, her eyes fixed on Grog. Her expression was composed, something she was all too familiar with when it came down to commanding orders. "I grow tired of this detestable display; you will release him at once." She added, still not moving from where she stood.
Grog slowly turned his head toward Celestia, then barked out a laugh. "Oh? And what exactly are you going to do about it, Knife-ears?" He didn't let go of Oreon—instead, he tightened his grip on the boy's shirt. "You think just because you got a pretty face and pointy ears that I'm gonna listen to you? Some backwater elf that looked like she was bought out of slavery?" He spat towards her, the same way he did at Meara's tavern the night before. "You're in human territory now, sweetheart. Your kind don't get to order me around." He continued as his mouth slid into a disgusting grin. "Unless." A dark chuckle escaped him. "—You and your little elf friend over there give me a reason to let him go?" He licked his lips suggestively.
Sylvanie crossed her arms in her seat, also crossing one leg over the other, her foot dangling loosely as she eyed the drunkard in front of them. "What a disgusting pig you are..." She closed her eyes, trying to contain the anger she held as she glanced over at her sister.
The crowd around them shifted uncomfortably. A few people muttered in disapproval, but no one stepped forward. However, the opposite happened with Grog's followers; they only snickered at Grog's disrespect.
"Sister, just let me cut him down," Sylvanie spoke calmly. "It's not like I need my magic to do so," She suggested.
"No, Sylvanie." Celestia's eyes never left Grog's face. "We are guests in this town, and I will not allow us to cause unnecessary bloodshed over the words of a fool."
Grog snorted. "A fool, huh?" He finally released Oreon—shoving him backward hard enough that the boy stumbled into Gretta's stall. "You elves really do think you're better than everyone else, don't you?" He crossed his arms over his broad chest, puffing himself up like some rooster. "All high and mighty, where do you get off thinking that you can speak to me that way?"
Celestia's expression didn't change, but there was something cold in her eyes now—a flicker to steel beneath the surface. "I speak to you as I would speak to anyone who lacks basic decency," She said evenly, "If you find that offensive, perhaps you should reflect on your behavior."
The crowd murmured again—some in agreement, others in nervous anticipation. A few people even chuckled at Celestia's sharp retort.
"You damn..." Grog growled as he turned to face Celestia, jabbing a thick finger in her direction. "You think you're clever, don't you?" Grog took a menacing step toward Celestia, his crew shifting behind him, emboldened by their leader's aggression. "Maybe I should teach you some manners—show you what happens when elves forget their place."
Celestia remained perfectly still, her expression unwavering. "And what place would that be?" She asked calmly. "Please enlighten me."
Grog's face twisted with rage. "On your knees, begging for mercy—that's where all you knife-ears belong!" He took another step forward. "I don't know why that homeless brat even brought you here?" He pointed towards Oreon. "I don't know why Meara continues to shelter such a nuisance, and now he brings you elves here! Don't we have enough trouble without some high-mighty Elven bitches running around in our town!"
The crowd fell silent, the tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. Even Grog's crew looked uncertain about the comment, shifting on their feet, others glancing around nervously. It was one thing to simply pick on Oreon, but this...this was escalating fast.
Gretta finally stood tall, picking up her spatula, crossing her arms dangerously now.
"That's enough, Grog," she said, glancing at Oreon, who said nothing, his face hidden from those around him. "I think you've crossed enough lines for one day." She walked over to stand by Celestia.
Grog's eyes snapped toward Gretta, his face twisting even further. "You too, huh? Taking the side of some knife-ears over your own kind?" He gritted his teeth before he spat towards her as well. "First Meara, now you're standing with them, too? What is it with you hags and defending trash? You're getting soft in your old age, woman?"
"Watch your mouth when you speak to me, boy." Gretta returned. "Now, take your crew and leave. We've had enough of your face hanging around here."
Whispers could be heard as the crowd around them began to chatter amongst each other. All of them looked disapprovingly at Grog as he slowly turned his head to see the crowd staring at him now; his gang as well, not knowing what to do as they mimicked Grog's actions, looking around as the crowd pointed at them.
"Damn ungrateful..." Grog growled.
"Allow me to make myself clear to you, since you seem to lack the competence of someone who doesn't understand the sheer ignorance of their words." Celestia continued. "You stand here in a public marketplace making demands of a young man who has done nothing to warrant your harassment." Her composure remained, but the weight of her words continued to pile on. "You insult women who have shown you no disrespect. You threaten violence over wounded pride. Tell me...what exactly does someone as shameless as yourself hope to accomplish here? Respect? Fear?"
Grog's face flushed red—from both anger and humiliation. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked like he was preparing to lunge at Celestia, but the way she carried herself. The firmness in her voice, her regal stature...made him hesitate.
Fidgeting with anger, his arms shaking slightly. "You don't get to—"
"No." Celestia's voice is absolute." You've done enough talking; I am speaking now. You will listen."
The marketplace went dead silent. Even Grog's crew froze in place, unsure whether to intervene or simply watch their leader get verbally dismantled by an elf.
"You speak of 'places' as if you have the authority to decide them." She slightly narrowed her eyes at him. "But I don't see a man with power. No, all I see before me is a man who uses intimidation because he has nothing else to offer. No wit, no honor, no strength, not a sliver of character." Her eyes bore into him. "Just noise. Noise of a loud man, hoping someone will acknowledge him."
Grog's face turned an even deeper shade of red, nearly purple with anger. "You...you think you can talk to me like that?!" He snarled, spittle flying from his lips. "I'll—"
"You'll what?" Sylvanie finally spoke up from her seat, smirking as she uncrossed her legs and leaned forward slightly. "Hit her? In front of all these people?" She gestured lazily toward the crowd. "Go ahead...see how well that works out for you."
Grog's head snapped towards Sylvanie, glaring at her, almost taking a step towards her—but then he hesitated once again. His eyes darted around the crowd again, seeing the disapproving stares, the shaking heads, the whispers growing louder.
"You—you think you're so smart, don't you?" Grog spat, his voice rising. "Coming in here with your fancy words and your pretty face, acting like you're better than everyone!" He pointed at them again. "But you're just another elf—another knife ear who thinks the world owes her something!"
Celestia still didn't waver. "I think nothing of the sort," She spoke calmly. "I simply expect people to behave with a modicum of dignity."
"Dignity?!" Grog barked out a harsh laugh. "You want to talk about dignity? Your kind used to look down at us—used to treat humans like dirt beneath your boots!" He breathed, his hands balling into fists. "And now that the tables have turned, you come crawling into our town, expecting us to bow and scrape like we're the ones who should be grateful!"
"I have never asked anyone to bow to me," Celestia retaliated. "Nor have I treated anyone as lesser than myself. If you carry resentment towards my people, that is your burden to bear—not mine." She paused, narrowing her eyes slightly. "But if you continue to harass this young man or insult my sister and me. I will not stand idly by.
"Oh, yeah?" Grog sneered as he got ready to take another step forward, but Oreon had grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.
"For the last time, Grog, stop," Oreon warned. "Just walk away, so we can all get back to what we were doing."
Grog quickly whirled his head towards Oreon in anger. "You damn brat!" Grog lost it." This is your fault! You brought these damn knife-ears here! You desecrated this town! You rotten little! Your damn mother should have—"
Before anyone could say or do anything, a loud crack was heard as Oreon's fist plunged into the side of Grog's jaw, sending him flying into barrels of fish, collapsing them as some escaped back into the water.
The marketplace erupted into gasps and shouts.
Gretta's eyes went wide. "Holy—"
Grog's friends stood frozen for a moment, shocked at what they'd just witnessed. Their leader, who outweighed Oreon by at least seventy pounds, had just been sent flying like a rag doll.
Oreon stood there, his fist still clenched, anger slowly starting to fill his voice as he stared at the fallen Grog. "Don't..." He breathed, "...you ever talk about my mother."
Grog groaned from where he lay sprawled among the fish barrels, one hand clutching his jaw. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. For a moment, he just stared at the sky, dazed—then his eyes refocused.
Then his eyes snapped up at Oreon with pure hatred. "You—You little shit!" Grog roared as he scrambled to his feet, knocking aside fish and pieces of wood. "You're dead! You hear me?! Dead!"
He lunged forward, swinging wildly at Oreon—who just stood there glaring at the drunkard as Grog's hand came closer to Oreon's face.
But it never reached it.
A hand shot out, catching Grog's wrist mid-swing.
Sylvanie stood between them, her eyes now cold as she stared at Grog. "Alright, that's quite enough." She said softly, her voice dripping with disdain. She twisted Grog's wrist effortlessly, forcing him down to one knee with a pained grunt.
"Gah--! Let go! Get your dirty Elven hands off of me!" Grog snarled, trying to yank his arm free, but Sylvanie's grip held as she continued to stare at him.
"Dirty?" Sylvanie tilted her head, her eyes narrowing a bit. "That's rich coming from someone who smells like he bathed in a barrel of cheap ale." She twisted his wrist just a fraction more, eliciting another pained grunt from Grog. "You know...I was trying to be good today. Really, I was." She glanced over at Celestia with a playful, but somewhat off expression as she turned her gaze back towards Grog. "Sister, correct me if I'm wrong." She began. "We were really just trying to stay out of the way and not bother anybody, but the second this lummox sees us, he runs his mouth with insults." She gritted her teeth lightly.
"He even had the nerve to spit at us, then at you." She turned her gaze towards Celestia again, slightly twisting Grog's arm further, causing him to groan in more pain as the crowd watched on. "So, now that you finally have my attention..."
Grog's face went red—partly from pain, partly from humiliation. "Let—let go of me, you damn--!"
"Ah-ah-ah—" Sylvanie interrupted sweetly, applying just enough pressure to make him wince. "You really should watch what comes out of that mouth of yours. It's gotten you into enough trouble already, don't you think?" She looked down at him, a look that clearly showed how beneath her he was. "Now...tell me something, what was it you said earlier? Something about teaching Elves their place?"
The crowd had gone completely silent now. Grog's crew also remained motionless, uncertain if they should get involved. One of them took a tentative step forward—"
"I wouldn't," Sylvanie said without even looking at him. Her voice came out casual, almost bored. "If I were you, I would stay right where you are." She slightly lifted her head. This time, her eyes met Grog's men. "Unless you want to end up on your knees too."
The man froze mid-step, his face going pale. He glanced at his companions, but none of them moved. Standing there, they shifted awkwardly, clearly not wanting to get involved.
Sylvanie gave the man a dangerous smile. "Smart." She turned her attention back to Grog, who was still kneeling before her, his wrist caught in her iron grip. "Now then...where were we? Ah, yes—your lesson."
"I don't need a lesson from some damn knife-ears, piss off and--!" Sylvanie twisted Grog's wrist again as he retaliated, causing his words to end in a choked gasp.
A wider smile appeared on Sylvanie's face, but it was cold. "Oh, but I think you do." She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that somehow still carried across the silent marketplace. "You see, the problem with people like you is that you think that just because you throw your weight around, people are supposed to bend to you, respect you."
"But look around." Sylvanie gestured with her head towards the crowd. "Does it look like they respect you?"
Grog's eyes darted around the marketplace—his face growing redder by the second. The crowd stared back at him, some with pity, others with disdain, but none with respect. Even his own crew looked uncomfortable, avoiding his gaze.
"I'll go ahead and answer it for you. They don't," Sylvanie answered for him. "They tolerate you. There's a difference." She released his wrist with a slight shove, sending him tumbling backwards. "And the only reason they do that is that most of these people are probably decent enough not to want trouble." She crossed her arms. "But me? I'm not from here. I don't have to tolerate anything."
"The Elven girl speaks truth, Grog," Gretta spoke up, watching the scene as it unfolded. "You've been a pain in everyone's ass lately." She added, looking over at the crowd and then back at Oreon, who was watching the scene himself, slightly leaning against her stall. "You've always come out and pick fights, spout off at the mouth, disrespecting any woman who tells you no. You and your band of cronies are making it hard for people to survive in peace in this town." Gretta continued.
Clearly enraged, Grog pushed himself up from the ground, wiping blood from his lip with the back of his hand. "You—you don't know what you're talking about, old woman!" He spat, his voice shaking. "I do what I have to do to survive in this shithole!"
"By harassing people?" Gretta shot back. "By drinking yourself stupid and picking fights with anyone who looks at you wrong? By being a public nuisance?" She shook her head. "That's not survival, Grog. That's just being a miserable bastard who complains about things he can't change."
The crowd murmured in agreement now, emboldened by Sylvanie's words and Gretta's support. A few people even nodded, their expressions hardening as they looked at Grog.
"She's right," An older man called out from the crowd. "You've been causing nothing but trouble, Grog!"
"Yeah!" Another voice joined in. "Always picking on Oreon, picking fights with everyone!"
The crowd's murmurs began to peak as more voices joined in agreement.
"We can't even enjoy ourselves with you around!"
"What's wrong with you? Why do you always have to be such a headache!"
Oreon continued to stand there, relaxing his body a bit as he watched the scene play out, a small smirk on his face. "Well, would you look at that." He said, but only loud enough for him to hear.
With visible steam rising from his face, Grog surveyed the scene, his chest heaving with ragged breaths as the murmurs about him persisted. Watching the sights, the crew's faces began to display more sympathy towards Grog.
"You—all of you—" Grog stammered, his voice cracking. "You're all of just...just a bunch of cowards!" He pointed wildly at the crowd. "Siding with some damn knife-ears over one of your own! What's wrong with people?! Your own kind! What happened to loyalty?!" His eyes darted around the crowd—people he'd known for years, people who'd tolerated him, shared drinks with him, laughed at his jokes—and now they were all turning on him.
"Loyalty?" An older woman stepped forward from the crowd, her weathered face set in a stern expression. "Grog, you don't know the meaning of the word." She shook her head slowly. "Where was that loyalty when you stole from my stall?"
"And you knocked over my stall last week when you were drunk!" A merchant added. "Broke half my pottery!
"You've done nothing but walk around acting like you own the place!" A male voice came from somewhere in the crowd.
The accusations kept coming, one after another, each person emboldened by the last. Grog stood there, his fists clenched, his face contorted with fury, and now panicking, causing him to take a step back.
"You...you!" He snarled, forcing himself to take a step forward. "You think you're better than me?! You think I'm the problem?!" He pointed accusingly again, this time towards Oreon, then Sylvanie, and finally Celestia. "This town was fine before these elves showed up! Before this brat started bringing non-humans in!"
"Oh, please," Sylvanie rolled her eyes, examining her nails casually. "We've been here for less than a day. You've been a problem for years, apparently." She glanced at Gretta. "How long has he been like this?"
Gretta sighed heavily, crossing her arms. "Too long." She regarded Grog with an ambiguous look, a hint of pity in her eyes. "Ever since the Order crossed out your town, you've been spiraling, boy. And instead of counting your blessings and being thankful that at least some of you made it out alive, you poke out your chest like you're this town's protector or something."
"Don't you dare—" Grog's voice broke.
"We've all lost something in this town, Grog," Gretta interrupted, her voice still stern. "You are not the only one whose town got ransacked and purified by the Order." She continued. "Everyone here has lost someone or everything, yet you don't see them taking out their anger and frustrations on everyone. No, we honor the people we lost by living and being grateful that we escaped death's door, but you..." Gretta shook her head again.
The words hit Grog hard. For a moment—just a moment—something flickered in his eyes. Grief, maybe. Shame. But it was quickly swallowed by anger.
"You—" His lips trembled a bit. "You don't know anything!" Grog shouted back, his voice cracking again. "You weren't there! You didn't see! You didn't see a damn thing! You didn't see what I saw! So, you don't get to judge—you! All of you! None of you—" He stopped himself, his jaw working as if he was trying to chew through the words before they could escape. His hands trembled at his sides. "You don't...You don't get to tell me how to deal with it." He paused for a second, his anger still boiling. "Grr—I don't need this...I don't need a lecture from any of you cowards!" He roared back as he whirled back to have his eyes set on Oreon. His eyes narrowed hatefully at him. "You! This is all your fault!"
"Huh?" Oreon blinked slightly, confused, as he pointed to himself. "Me?"
"Yes, you!" Grog spat, taking a lurching step toward him. "Ever since you showed up in this town, everything's gone to shit! First, it was just you—some nobody orphan with no past, no family! And now—now you're bringing elves here?! Non-humans?!" His voice cracked with hysteria. "But you'll pay for it..." He took a step back, retreating slowly. "You and all your rash decisions, it's all going to come back on your shoulders. You'll see, these people will see." He angrily turned his back, but not without glancing back at Oreon. "The problem isn't me...it's you, it's always been you." He jerked his head forward and stormed off with his crew, quickly following behind him.
Meanwhile, Grog's words hit Oreon harder than anyone ever knew as he forced his eyes to look at the ground, knowing that nobody in the town knew, aside from the elves, Lena, and Meara, knew he was the purifier's son, so in a way, Grog was right, or at least that's how Oreon began to feel.
The marketplace fell into an uncomfortable silence as Grog and his crew disappeared down a side street. The crowd began to disperse slowly, murmuring amongst themselves—some casting sympathetic glances toward Oreon, others shaking their heads at Grog's behavior.
Gretta sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair. "Oreon, don't listen to him." She said quietly, looking over at him. "That man's been drowning in his own misery for so long, he's forgotten how to do anything but drag others down with him." She sighed again. "He's probably figured it'll be easier just to blame someone else for what happened to him."
But Oreon didn't respond. He just stood there, staring at the ground where Grog had been moments before. His fists returned to being clenched at his sides, hands trembling. He appeared to be silently struggling to articulate something, as if he were chewing on words he was unwilling or unable to voice.
Sylvanie noticed immediately. Her playful demeanor faded as she studied him, her eyes narrowing slightly. She exchanged a glance with Celestia, who had picked up on her sister's signal.
"Oreon..." Celestia began gently, taking a small step forward. But before she could get another word out, Oreon let out a deep breath.
"I'm fine," He said slowly. He finally lifted his head, forcing a small smile to cross his features. "I'm fine. Really." He looked around at the lingering crowd members, then back at Gretta. "Sorry about...all that. Didn't mean for it to get that far out of hand.
"Sorry?" Gretta scoffed. "Boy, you knocked some sense into that fool!" Gretta said happily as she playfully but aggressively wrapped one of her strong arms around Oreon's neck, earning a playful yelp from him as she pulled him closer, laughing. "If anything, I should be thanking you! I didn't know someone like you could hit someone that hard! You sent that man flying!" She exclaimed.
"Gre—Gretta, you're choking—me." Oreon wheezed, struggling against her forearm.
Gretta released him with a hearty laugh, giving him a rough pat on the back that nearly sent him stumbling forward. "Ah, sorry, sorry! Got a bit carried away there!" She grinned widely, her face lighting up, "Now come on and eat, I won't let you go away on an empty stomach. All that excitement has to have your stomachs growling." She started walking back to her grill, but she suddenly stopped. "Oreon..." She called his name, her back facing him, gripping the spatula tighter in one hand. "I know what that oaf said probably got to you. I don't understand what happened to you before you came to this town, but don't you think for a second that I'm going to let you believe what that emotional fool said was true. You've done great things, kid, whether you believe it or not." She finally ended, going back to her stall, making her way towards the grill.
Oreon stood frozen for a moment, his shoulders tense. Gretta's words seemed to linger in the air, like a shield, almost allowing Oreon to relax as he inhaled deeply at the sound of her grill sizzling.
"Come now, don't let my cooking go to waste!" Gretta yelled back at the trio.
"Well," Sylvanie said, breaking the tension as she stretched her arms above her head. "I don't know about you two, but I'm starving." She started walking toward Gretta's stall,
Celestia was next to stand beside Oreon as she made her way towards the stall. "She's right, you know." She spoke, not looking at Oreon but matching his pace as they walked. "You've done more good than you realize." She spoke, trying to sound reassuring. "I've only known you for a short time, Oreon. A day and a half at most." She thought about it. "If we can call our first meeting a day. However," She glanced over at him before returning her gaze forward. "In that short amount of time. I've seen you fight, seen how you handle yourself in dire situations. "You even created an opportunity for us when we were fighting Rot," she said, continuing to walk one step after another toward Gretta's stall.
"I've also seen how people look at you here. How they speak to you." She glanced at him again from the corner of her eye. "That's not the reaction someone gets when they're the problem."
Oreon didn't respond immediately. He just walked beside her, his hands stuffed into his pockets, his gaze still fixed somewhere on the ground ahead of them.
"...I appreciate that," He finally said, his tone matching hers. "But sometimes I wonder if—" he stopped himself, biting down on the words before they could fully form. He shook his head. "Never mind. It's nothing."
Celestia didn't push. She nodded, her expression understanding. "If you ever wish to talk about it," she said gently. "I'll listen."
Oreon glanced at her, and for just a moment, his body relaxed a bit. "...Thanks"
Sylvanie was by Gretta's stall when they got there, propped against the counter and looking at Gretta with a grin. "So, what's good here?" She asked, her tone light and teasing. "I'm assuming everything, but humor me." She leaned back in her seat. "Didn't get the chance to know what that human was ordering for us before that oaf showed up."
Gretta barked out a laugh, flipping a skewer of seasoned meat on the grill. "Everything is good, elf girl! Too bad I didn't get a chance to whip up that first plate for you, but if you really want my recommendation..." She leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. "...try the spiced lamb skewers. Got a special blend of herbs I picked up from a merchant last month—turmeric, cumin, a bit of crushed coriander, and something he called 'dragon's breath pepper.' Don't let the name scare you, though; it's got a kick, be careful, it will burn your tongue off." She winked, straightening back up as she rotated the skewers expertly. "And if you want something to cool it down, I've got fresh yogurt sauce with mint and garlic. Perfect combo.
Sylvanie's eyes lit up with interest. "Dragon's breath pepper? Now you're speaking my language." She grinned, tapping her fingers on the counter. "I'll take three skewers and don't hold back on those peppers."
"That's the spirit!" Gretta laughed, already preparing the order.
"I thought you specialized in fish." Oreon and Celestia pulled up a seat beside Sylvanie, with Oreon sitting between the sisters.
Gretta glanced over her shoulder at Oreon, grinning. "I do! But a woman's gotta diversify, you know? Can't just stick to one thing all the time." She flipped another skewer with ease. "Besides, after the Order razed my old fishing village... well, let's just say I had to get creative with what I could find." Her tone was light, but there was a bit of weight behind her words—a history she didn't elaborate on.
Oreon nodded slowly, understanding in his eyes as he watched her, slightly glancing away. "Right...Makes sense."
Celestia leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the counter as she watched Gretta work. "You're quite skilled." She observed. "The way you handle the fire, the timing—it's almost like watching a craftsman at work."
Gretta let out another heavy laugh, waving her spatula dismissively. "Ah, you're too kind, but I appreciate the compliment! It took me years to get the hang of it, honestly. My old man used to say I'd burn water if I wasn't careful." She laughed at the memory, her eyes crinkling with fondness. "Course, he's not around anymore to see me prove him wrong, but...Well, I like to think he'd be proud."
She turned back to the grill, expertly rotating the skewers. The smell of charred meat and spices fills the air, making Oreon's stomach growl audibly.
Sylvanie snickered, glancing sideways at Oreon, who looked down slightly embarrassed. "Wow, someone's hungry—" She teased.
Oreon gave her a side glance. "Yeah, seeing you work a crowd was entertaining, and stepping in..." He grinned at her. "Didn't know you cared so much, and not even two days in."
Sylvanie's eyes narrowed playfully, and a smirk curved her lips. "Oh, please don't flatter yourself." She leaned back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other. "I just hate seeing idiots get away with being idiots. Besides..." She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "You look like you were about two seconds away from doing something stupid yourself. Someone had to step in."
"Stupid?" Oreon's eyebrow went up. "I handled it fine."
"You punched him in the face." Sylvanie pointed out. "That's not exactly 'handling it."
"Well...It kinda is...and... He deserved it." Oreon muttered, his jaw tightening slightly.
"Oh, I'm not saying he didn't." Sylvanie grinned wider. "I'm just saying you're lucky I was there to make sure it didn't escalate further. You're welcome, by the way."
Oreon was getting ready to respond before Celesta's hand gently came down on his shoulder. "Sylvanie, you didn't exactly defuse the situation..." She said gently. "In fact, you probably added to it."
Sylvanie placed a hand dramatically over her chest, feigning offense. "Me? I was being perfectly reasonable! The guy just needed a heavy dose of reality." She glanced over at her sister. "Besides, it's not like you were doing any better with all the things you said to him."
Celestia sighed softly, removing her hand from Oreon's shoulder. "I was attempting to appeal to his sense of reason—"
"Which he clearly doesn't have," Sylvanie interrupted, leaning back in her seat with a smirk. "Face it, sister. You're just as bad as I am." She snickered. "I will not allow any bloodshed over the words of a fool.' She mocked in her sister's voice. "Wasn't that what you said?"
Celestia blushed a little, a seldom-seen break in her usual composure. "I—that's not—" She paused, closing her eyes and taking a breath. "I was trying to prevent unnecessary violence."
"And yet," Sylvanie glances over at Oreon. "The human punches him in the face." Oreon could only let out a low breath as Gretta could be heard laughing as she came up with a plate of skewers covered in Dragon Breath peppers, placing the plate in front of Sylvanie.
She wiped her hands on her apron and continued to chuckle. "You three are something else, I tell you! Haven't had this much entertainment in months!" She shook her head, still grinning as she turned back to prepare more food.
Sylvanie picked up one of the skewers, examining it. The meat glistened with oil and spices, practically covered in bright red peppers that seemed to shimmer with heat.
"Now this..." She brought it closer to her nose, inhaling it deeply. "This smells dangerous."
"Those peppers aren't a joke," Gretta called over her shoulder without turning around. "It'll put you on your ass if you're not careful. You should probably take a small bite of that first to see if you can handle—"
Before Gretta could finish, Sylvanie had already shoved half the skewer in her mouth without hesitation, causing both Oreon and Celestia to look at her questionably and with concern.
Sylvanie chewed slowly, her expression completely neutral. Then she swallowed.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Gretta turned around, spatula in hand, eyes wide. "Girl, are you—"
"Mm." Sylvanie nodded thoughtfully, licking her lips. "That's...actually pretty good." She took another bite, chewing with the same casual ease as if she were eating plain bread. "Got a nice kick to it. Not bad at all."
Oreon stared at her, genuinely impressed—and slightly horrified. "You're...not dying?" He asked her. "You should be...dying right about now. Dragon's breath peppers are the hottest in this region."
"Why would I be dying?" Sylvanie glanced at him, raising an eyebrow as she took another bite. "It's just a little spice."
"But that's not..." Oreon began.
Gretta's jaw dropped. "A little spice?! Girl, those peppers could strip the lining off a grown man's throat!" She leaned over the counter, staring at Sylvanie as if she'd just witnessed a miracle. "I've seen mercenaries twice your size cry after one bite!"
Sylvanie shrugged, already halfway through the second skewer. "Must be a dark elf thing.' She said casually. "We're built different."
Celestia let out a sigh, a slight smile playing on her lips. "She's always been like this. However, dark elves have a higher tolerance for...certain things. Poisons, toxins, extreme temperatures..." She gestured vaguely toward her sister. "Sylvanie in particular has always had an unnaturally high tolerance. She once drank an entire bottle of—"
"—Let's not bring that up," Sylvanie cut in quickly, though she was grinning now. "That was one time, and I was fine."
"You weren't fine," Celestia corrected gently. "You passed out for three days."
"But I didn't die!" Sylvanie shot back triumphantly, pointing her skewer at her sister. "That's what counts!"
Gretta let out another booming laugh, slapping the counter with her free hand. "You elves are alright in my book!" She exclaimed as she turned back to the grill, cooking up milder skewers for both Oreon and Celestia. "Let me fix something for the rest of you before this one eats everything I've got." She said as she quickly began repeating the process she had done with Sylvanie's skewers, minus the Dragon Breath peppers.
Oreon couldn't help but sit back and watch as Sylvanie devoured her portion with ease, with no consequences but only burping a puff of smoke out of her mouth.
"Did you just—" Oreon blinked a few times. "Was that smoke?
Sylvanie covered her mouth with her hand, eyes widening slightly before she let out a short laugh. "Oops." She grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, uh...side effect of the peppers mixing with my magic, I guess." She waved her hand dismissively, though another small wisp of smoke escaped her lips as she spoke.
Celestia sighs at her sister's habit. "Sylvanie..."
"What?!" Sylvanie spread her arms defensively. "It's not like I meant to!"
"Manners, sister...manners," Celestia spoke as Gretta brought two more plates out for both Oreon and her. The three continued to talk and chat for some time before they finished their meal, with Sylvanie going for seconds.
As they waved goodbye, they stopped by Silas as promised to pick up their clothes before heading back to the tavern. Silas distributed clothing sets to everyone, with each instance having a unique justification. Clothing for sleeping, relaxed occasions, and daily use.
"Now, I made sure to account for everything I could think of." He explained, gesturing to each set. "The daily wear is sturdy—reinforced stitching, breathable fabric. Good for walking long distances or, well..." He glanced knowingly at Oreon." ...Getting into trouble."
"Come on, Silas," Oreon groaned, accepting his bundle. "I'm not bad..."
Silas raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "Boy, word has already made it throughout the town about what happened at the marketplace. I stand on what I said."
"But that wasn't—" Oreon started, then stopped himself, realizing he didn't have a good defense. "It wasn't even my fault." He looked away.
"Mm-hmm, trouble is trouble; no matter whose fault it is." Silas hummed, clearly unconvinced as he turned his attention to the elven sisters. "Now, for you two..." He handed Celestia her bundle first. "I made sure the fabrics were soft but durable. Nothing too restrictive—figured you'd appreciate freedom of movement given your...previous circumstances."
Both elves quickly shot him a quizzical look, but Silas held up one hand, signaling for them to calm down.
"Your problems are none of my business, but given what I know, I tried my best to accommodate, per Meara's wishes, that old woman better not ask for any more favors after this," Silas assured.
Celestia accepted the bundle with a gracious nod. "Thank you, this...this is...Very thoughtful of you." She glanced down at the fabrics in her arms, running her fingers over the material. "We're not used to human kindness, but we do appreciate everything you've done for us."
"Hmph." Silas crossed his arms, imitating an old grump. "Tell that woman she's just lucky I owe her." As he reached over to hand Sylvanie her bundle, which she accepted, holding it up and examining it, turning it over and backwards.
"Not bad...old human," She murmured, turning one piece over in her hands. "Actually, pretty decent quality." She glanced at Silas. "You actually have taste. Didn't expect that from a human tailor." She smirked, even though she sounded genuinely surprised.
Silas huffed, crossing his arms. "I'll take that as a compliment, elf girl."
"It was one old human," Sylvanie replied smoothly, folding the tunic back up. "Don't expect too many of them, though." She added as Oreon shook his head, smiling faintly as he adjusted his own bundle under his arm.
"Alright, we should probably head back before Meara wonders where we are."
"Good idea," Celestia agreed, glancing at her sister. "Sylvanie, are you ready?"
"Yeah, yeah..." Sylvanie replied, still glancing down at her new clothes. "Let's get going before more humans like that overgrown oaf come out and start looking at us."
The three of them left Silas's shop, stepping back out into the late afternoon streets. The sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the cobblestone dirt roads.
The marketplace had quieted down somewhat, though there were still plenty of people milling about.
As they walked, Celestia fell into step beside Oreon once more, her expression thoughtful. "Today has been...eventful," she said quietly.
"That's one way to put it," Oreon muttered, glancing at her sideways. "Sorry if we—if I—made things more complicated back there."
"You didn't," Celestia assured him gently. "We all had a part to play back there,
"...Thank you," Oreon said after a pause, his voice quieter now. "For saying that."
Celestia offered him a soft smile. "Of course."
Behind them, Sylvanie was walking with her arms stretched behind her head, clothes in hand, humming some tune under her breath. She glanced around lazily, taking in the town as they passed through it.
"You know..." She spoke up suddenly. "For a human settlement, this place isn't half bad.' She tilted her head thoughtfully. "I mean, it's still a human settlement—dirty streets, questionable architecture—but..." She shrugged. "Could be worse."
"That's high praise coming from you," Oreon remarked dryly without looking back.
"Don't get used to it," Sylvanie shot back, eyes still shifting from one side to the other as the three continued their walk, silence between them following quickly after Sylvanie's comment as they made their way back to the Tavern.
Meanwhile, Grog stomped ahead in a back alley, with his crew still behind him. Still angry at the event that took place earlier. "Just where does this town get off?" He growled. "Turning on me like that, and all for a couple of—a couple of elves and a homeless punk kid!" He kicked over some nearby debris.
One of his men, a lanky fellow with a crooked nose, shuffled forward nervously. "Boss, maybe we should just...you know, let it go? I mean, half the town saw what happened. If we make a move now—"
"Let it go?!" Grog whirled around, his massive frame casting a shadow over the smaller man. "You think I'm gonna let some scrawny brat make a fool out of me?! In front of everyone?!" He jabbed his finger into the man's chest, making him stumble backward. "No. No way in hell. He and those damn knife-ears are going to get what's coming to them.
Another member of the crew—a shorter, stockier man with a scar running down his cheek—spoke up cautiously. "What're you thinking, boss?"
Grog's face scrunched a bit, clearly hadn't thought that far. "Grr...I don't know yet, but trust me when I do think of something, they're going to be sorry that they ever crossed paths with me. That damn kid and those two elves." He gritted his teeth.
"Elves, you say..." A female voice could be heard as Grog and his crew's eyes shot up in shock, causing them to turn their heads towards the source of the voice, revealing two figures completely cloaked in black with the hood over their heads.
Grog narrowed his eyes, his hand instinctively moving toward the hilt of his blade. "Who the hell are you?" He growled, his gang quickly forming up behind him, hands on their weapons.
The speaker, a woman based on her voice, moved a little closer, but her face was still obscured by her hood. Her companion, taller and broader, stayed back in the shadows, completely silent.
"Relax," The woman said smoothly, her tone calm and almost...amused. "Let's just say...we're people who have the same interests." An eerie giggle escaped her as the scene zoomed up on her features, but only showed her mouth smirking as she kept her eyes on Grog.