When Arthur entered the tavern, freshly washed and clad in warrior's garb, no one recognized this handsome youth as the former "little beastkin."
Not until he crouched beneath the table, looking up to suggest: "By orc custom, those seeking honor should issue challenges openly and fairly!"
Tony grinned maliciously, egging him on to provoke The Bloodthorn Guild's deputy leader.
Cristy's pale green Combat Aura pressed against Arthur's brow—
"You're certain about letting this child die?" he roared in challenge.
Adeline restrained the impulsive Tony, her voice cutting like steel: "We're certain."
Valorhaven's three great mercenary companies—Bloodthorn, The Wildfox Company, and The Azure Rose Company—circled each other like vultures fighting over the same carrion, bound only by blade-edges and calculations. Bloodthorn and Wildfox, these century-old veteran forces, had tangled endlessly even before Azure Rose's meteoric rise. Azure Rose's rapid expansion had torn bloody chunks from their established territories, creating friction like dry tinder awaiting the smallest spark. In the mercenary world, negotiation tables served as cowards' refuges—fists and steel provided the universal language for settling disputes. Retreat meant weakness branded permanently in shame.
Pale green Combat Aura suddenly erupted around Cristy like cold flames wreathing his form. Across from him, Tony, Angus, and several other Azure Rose mercenaries tensed instantly, hands settling on weapon hilts. The tavern reeked of dense ale, sweat, and roasted meat grease. Mercenaries who'd been near both groups scattered immediately, pressing against rough wooden walls while retreating—yet none departed. They crossed arms and grinned, cheap ale sloshing in thick clay mugs, murky eyes gleaming with gladiatorial bloodlust. Behind the bar, proprietress Nightingale lazily propped her chin, appearing utterly unsurprised. Drunken mercenary brawls? As long as they avoided real weapons and fatalities, she wouldn't lift an eyelid. Broken property meant gold compensation, and in Valorhaven, no mercenary dared default on Nightingale's accounts—those young hotshots who'd once pursued her desperately now mostly commanded respect that could shake the ground with a single stomp.
Just as fury was about to explode from Cristy's eyes, the tavern's heavy oak door creaked open once more.
"Sister Nightingale, quite the lively evening here?" A pleasant voice carried laughter as it entered. Adeline stepped gracefully into the blade-drawn atmosphere, wrapped in an exquisite deep blue mage's cloak whose edges rippled with barely perceptible radiance, proclaiming its owner was no ordinary adversary.
Nightingale's harsh expression melted instantly, blooming with genuine warmth—as women rolling in this masculine world, they shared an understanding beyond others' comprehension. "Perfect timing, Adeline," she gestured toward Tony's group with familiar reproach. "Tony got a few drinks in him and exchanged words with Deputy Leader Cristy." This apparent scolding of Tony actually offered the rage-edged Cristy a dignified exit.
Adeline's gaze swept lightly across Cristy's tense features, lips curving in a perfectly calibrated arc. "What a coincidence? Deputy Leader Cristy's here too. Why don't I treat Bloodthorn's brothers to drinks and cool tempers?" Her voice remained gentle yet carried unquestionable weight.
Cristy's throat bobbed once as the pale green Combat Aura flames around him flickered like doused fire before reluctantly retreating into his body. A mid-tier mage's destructive potential demanded careful consideration from any clear-headed warrior. Moreover, Adeline's appearance completely upset the power balance. He snorted heavily through his nose, voice scraping like steel on whetstone: "We appreciate Deputy Leader Adeline's 'kindness.' Bloodthorn can still afford a few drinks!" He waved sharply, leading his subordinates toward an empty corner table. A brewing bloody conflict dissolved silently with Adeline's unexpected arrival.
"Well, who's this little fellow?" Nightingale's gaze passed beyond Adeline to the figure nearly shrouded in the mage cloak's shadow. "Your new magical apprentice?"
Arthur stood in the lamplight wearing a fitted blue short-style warrior's tunic that made his bearing appear upright, feet clad in soft brown leather boots. His once tangled black hair was neatly bound by a simple blue band, revealing a face so clean it nearly glowed, eyes curved with youthful brightness.
Not only Nightingale—Tony, Angus, and other Azure Rose mercenaries gaped wide-eyed, mouths unconsciously hanging open as if witnessing incredible apparitions. Had he not followed directly behind Adeline, they'd never connect this excessively handsome youth with Arthur, who'd once rolled in mud, filthy as a little beastkin.
"Aunt Nightingale." Arthur nodded politely in greeting, voice clear and bright.
"Oh my, what a handsome boy!" Nightingale exclaimed admiringly, rough fingers reaching with irresistible force to pinch Arthur's smooth cheek. "If I were twenty years younger, you'd have me utterly bewitched!"
Arthur instinctively tried dodging sideways yet found himself unable to evade those swift fingers. Adeline laughed while diplomatically intervening: "He's Uncle Randell's newly hired assistant. Knowing your roasted meats are legendary throughout Valorhaven, I brought him to broaden his horizons."
"Oh, poor little thing!" Nightingale sighed dramatically, pinching Arthur's other cheek before finally relenting. "Working for that odd fellow Randell? Tsk tsk, but don't worry—Aunt Nightingale's secret roasted meat will make you forget all troubles!" Only then did she sway her hips, turning to disappear into the kitchen for food preparation.
Adeline led Arthur directly toward the long wooden table occupied by Tony and Angus. Tony gulped ale heavily, face still flushed with residual anger, muttering under his breath as alcohol fumes sprayed across the greasy table surface: "I really don't understand, Adeline—why be so polite to that 'Tristy' bastard? We should've joined in beating those Bloodthorn scum senseless!"
Adeline sat beside Arthur, her cloak brushing the rough wooden bench. She turned, eyes sharply fixing on Tony with quiet rebuke: "A worthless tavern brawl—what good comes from winning? Wouldn't Captain Kaines still have to clean up the mess? Tony, we're mercenaries, not street thugs fighting over territory. Every drop of blood we shed, every punch we throw, should yield appropriate returns!" Her fingers unconsciously traced the deep blue cloak's edge.
"Mm, mm." Arthur was wrestling earnestly with a large chunk of sizzling, oil-dripping roasted meat, mouth stuffed bulging-full, unconsciously nodding repeatedly at her words.
Tony didn't dare contradict Adeline, yet his pent-up frustration needed outlet—he backhandedly slapped Arthur's skull with moderate force, nearly making the youth spray meat from his mouth: "Little thing, what do you know?"
Arthur swallowed the roasted meat with difficulty, shooting Tony an annoyed glare while his oil-slicked lips moved rapidly: "I think Teacher Adeline's absolutely right! Even orcs know pointless fighting wastes strength."
"Pointless fighting?" Tony seemed to hear the world's greatest joke, snorting disdainfully. "You think I haven't dealt with those green-skinned idiots? When they're bored, they'll beat each other bloody!"
"That's for honor!" Arthur reacted unusually quickly this time—as Tony's hand rose, he slithered under the table, only half his face visible as his voice emerged muffled: "They're competing for the camp's strongest warrior title! That's fighting for glory!"
Tony's hand hung mid-air, eyes rolling as mischief crept across his mouth: "Oh? Glory? What we're competing with Bloodthorn for is Valorhaven's strongest mercenary company honor! So by your orc friends' rules, what should we do, boy?"
Arthur looked up from beneath the table, bright black eyes gleaming in shadow as he decisively declared: "Challenge!"
"Challenge?" Tony paused, then his face bloomed with bone-deep malicious glee as he tapped his mug against the greasy table. "Great idea! Then you represent Azure Rose Company and deliver a challenge to those Bloodthorn scum!"
"Fine." Arthur showed no hesitation, slipping out from under the table like a slippery fish, dusting off his hem before walking directly toward Cristy's corner table. His footsteps made soft sounds on the alcohol-stained, wood-chip-scattered floor.
"Tony!" Adeline rebuked quietly, her expression instantly severe.
"Hey, what's to fear?" Tony carelessly gulped ale, spraying foam. "If this kid dares approach 'Tristy' and them, I'll..."
His trailing guarantee was abruptly severed by a clear, resonant voice carrying youthful penetration that echoed distinctly through the suddenly quiet tavern:
"I, representing The Azure Rose Company, formally challenge The Bloodthorn Guild! Do you dare accept?"
Cristy's half-drunk ale stopped abruptly, liquid streaming down his rough mouth corner. He nearly ground his molars to powder with an audible crack. Those bloodshot eyes fixed like poisoned daggers on Adeline and Tony. Letting some wet-behind-the-ears brat issue challenges? This was naked, malicious humiliation! His mug-gripping knuckles whitened.
Arthur fearlessly met that murderous gaze, even stepping forward slightly to clearly hurl the most common provocation among orc warriors: "Don't act like a Craven! Answer me—do you dare accept or not?"
"Craven"—the word struck Cristy's dignity like a red-hot brand. He smashed his mug against the table, wood chips flying as his roar shook overhead oil lamps: "We accept! Adeline! Tony! Which of you will die?!"
"Deputy Leader Cristy," Arthur's voice remained calm with infuriating seriousness, "you seem mistaken. I issued the challenge. Therefore, your opponent—is me."
Cristy first looked stunned, then as if hearing the world's most absurd joke, his twisted face squeezed out a savage grin, voice hissing between teeth: "Ha! Did they send you as their sacrificial lamb?"
"No," Arthur raised his head slightly, gaze sharp as a newborn hawk's. "This is my own choice. Please don't draw conclusions before the duel ends." His small body tensed, feet spreading slightly in the most basic combat stance.
Boom! Pale green Combat Aura exploded again from Cristy's body like tangible fury waves, crashing against Arthur. The youth grunted, body staggering backward two uncontrolled steps before barely stabilizing, black hair blown backward by invisible force.
Cristy slowly raised his right hand, extending one finger. Foot-long pale green Combat Aura extended from his fingertip like tempered steel spikes, sharp edges glinting in yellow lamplight. That lethal point, carrying suffocating pressure, advanced inch by inch—slowly, steadily—toward Arthur's unprotected brow!
Nightingale behind the bar covered her mouth. Adeline, Tony, Angus, and every Azure Rose mercenary instantly rose! Tony's hand gripped his belt knife, knuckles white, but the distance was too great—that death-imbued Combat Aura spike lay mere inches from Arthur's brow!
Arthur seemed frozen with terror, eyes fixed on that approaching blue-green gleam, body rigid without the slightest evasive movement.
The Combat Aura spike's chill nearly touched Arthur's forehead skin. At this critical moment, Cristy's movement strangely froze. That lethal blue-green edge stopped less than half an inch from Arthur's brow before retreating like an ebbing tide, vanishing completely. Kill an unarmed child? Under all these watching eyes? His name would become Valorhaven mercenaries' greatest drinking joke! He jerked his head up, beast-like gaze passing over Arthur to lock onto Adeline, each word ground from his chest depths, blood-scented:
"You—confirm letting this barely-weaned cub die?"
"No! I'll do it!" Tony roared forward, muscles bulging, eyes bloodshot.
But a deep blue leather-gloved hand pressed his arm faster—not forceful, yet unyielding as iron pincers. Adeline stood straight, her gaze sweeping Cristy's rage-twisted face before settling on that youth's back, spine defiantly straight under enormous pressure. A barely detectable understanding and cold determination flashed in her eyes. She nodded slowly, clearly—her voice quiet yet ringing like ice shards throughout the deathly silent tavern:
"Yes. We confirm."