The morning after the guild's summons, the streets of Tierwyn thrummed with restless energy. Merchants barked louder than usual, adventurers strode with sharpened focus, and rumors about orc hordes spread like wildfire between tavern benches and alley stalls. The trio moved through the city with casual strides, Mira walking slightly behind, keeping a steady watch on the crowds.
"Man," Kenshin muttered, hands stuffed in his pockets, "tell me this don't feel like the setup for a monster wave. Orcs and ogres bandin' together? Nah, that ain't normal. Means somebody strong is callin' the shots."
Drathan tilted his head, smirk tugging at his lips. "Game logic says that's a raid boss, bro. And if there's a boss strong enough to pull monsters together, it's only gonna get messier from here."
Seme rolled her eyes, hand on her sword hilt. "I don't care about raid bosses or monster waves right now. I care about the fact that I didn't finish breakfast. Mira fed us half a plate before that damn knock on the door, and I'm still starving."
Kenshin snorted. "You ain't starving, you just greedy. But fine, let's hit a tavern before you start complainin' louder than the guild bell."
They ducked into a lively tavern on the corner of a bustling market street. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, spilled ale, and baked bread. Wooden tables creaked under the weight of patrons slamming mugs, while a bard strummed out a shaky tune near the hearth. The trio slid into a corner booth, Mira staying close, her eyes scanning the room.
Before their food even hit the table, noise broke out at the front. A young heir, dressed in silks too clean for this part of town, had a tavern maid cornered. His words slurred with arrogance as he tugged at her wrist. "Come on, sweetheart. Don't make me ask twice. My family owns half this city—you should be grateful I even looked your way."
The room shifted uncomfortably, patrons turning their heads, some whispering, but no one moved to intervene.
Seme slammed her hand on the table, rattling their mugs. "I swear, I can't even eat in peace." She rose, chair scraping harshly against the wood floor. In three strides she was on him, fist tangled in his fine collar. "Yo, you deaf or just stupid? Let the girl go."
The heir sneered, trying to puff himself up, but Seme hoisted him clean off his feet and tossed him through the tavern doors. He hit the cobblestone with a wet thud. His guards scrambled after him, sputtering threats.
"You'll regret this!" the heir shrieked, face red, dust coating his silks. "My family will hear of this insult—"
Kenshin leaned casually out of the booth, voice dripping with mockery. "Man, shut yo' weak ass up. Only thing you good for is cryin' behind daddy's coin. Go home before you catch more than embarrassment."
The tavern erupted in laughter, the maid scurrying away with a grateful glance. Seme returned to her seat, muttering, "Finally. Now I can eat."
Their food arrived—thick stew, sizzling meat skewers, and mugs of dark ale. They dug in, laughter and muttered curses blending with the tavern's din until their hunger was finally satisfied.
Afterward, they made their way to the slave market. The air there was heavier, quieter, lined with cages and guarded pens. Traders called out prices, their voices sharp over the murmurs of chained men and women. The trio moved slowly, eyes scanning the choices.
Drathan stopped before a cage housing three elves: identical twins with pale golden hair and emerald eyes, clutching tightly to a taller, white-haired elf whose beauty was striking even beneath the grime. The twins pressed themselves against her, trembling as the trader barked their worth. "Two elven twins—rare, docile, perfect for service! But they won't leave without her. Package deal."
Drathan's gaze lingered on the trio. Something about their bond was unusual, almost unnatural in its intensity. Still, he spoke softly, "We'll take them."
Not far from them, a pair of wolf hybrid siblings stood apart, ears drooped but eyes sharp. Whispers followed them—bad luck, cursed by their tribe. Seme tilted her head. "They look strong. Good for heavy work, guard duty."
The last caught Kenshin's eye: a dark-skinned girl with sharp features and pointed ears just barely peeking from her hairline. A halfling—human and dark elf blood mingled. She crouched with quiet poise, eyes glowing faintly in the dim. "Night magic," Kenshin muttered. "Fast too. Bet she'd make a hell of a scout."
By the time they left the market, their group had grown. The twins clung protectively to the white-haired elf, the wolf siblings padded silently behind, and the halfling walked a step apart, her gaze sharp and assessing.
Back at the villa, Mira took charge, ushering the new additions to baths, fresh clothes, and warm food. The scent of lavender soap drifted through the halls as water splashed and laughter hesitantly broke from once-silent lips.
When they were gathered in the main room, Drathan leaned against the mantle, arms crossed. "Alright, listen up. This house is yours as much as it's ours—long as you loyal. You got duties, yeah, but if you need somethin', speak up. Don't be shy. You earn your keep, and you'll be taken care of."
Kenshin grinned, mug in hand. "Y'all lucked out. Free roof, warm meals, and you don't gotta deal with dumbass masters pushin' you around. Just don't piss Seme off, or you might end up regrettin' it. Trust me, she don't play when it comes to respect."
Seme snorted, leaning back in her chair. "Facts."
The new household stood in stunned silence for a moment, then slowly, relief began to show in their eyes. For the first time, maybe in years, they felt safe.
Later that night, when the villa had quieted, Drathan motioned for the three elves to follow him into a smaller study. The firelight danced across the bookshelves as he turned to face them. "I need to know the truth. Who are you three really? That bond between you—it's too tight to just be servants."
The twins exchanged uneasy glances before the white-haired elf stepped forward, her voice soft but steady. "We were taken. Kidnapped. The twins… they are my attendants, bound to me since birth. I… I am Princess Elenya of the Silverwood Dominion."
Drathan blinked, his usual lazy smirk fading into genuine surprise. He rubbed his face with one hand. "So you're tellin' me I just bought a damn princess and her two maids like they were livestock?" His voice held disgust, not at them, but at the system that put them here.
Elenya nodded, shame and defiance warring in her eyes. "We had no choice. But if it displeases you, we will leave at once—"
"Stop that," Drathan cut in sharply. "You ain't doin' chores like some servant. You're free to leave whenever you want. Matter fact, all three of you are. I don't want no bad taste in my mouth havin' a princess scrub floors."
The twins clung tighter to Elenya, but she shook her head. "No. We'll stay. After what you've given us tonight—food, dignity, safety—we'd rather stay here than risk the world outside."
For the first time since he'd seen her, Elenya smiled—not the polite mask of nobility, but something softer, genuine. Her gaze lingered on Drathan longer than it should have, curiosity and something else stirring beneath. "Then allow us to serve you, by choice this time."
Drathan sighed, scratching the back of his head, but nodded. "Alright. But you ain't servants. You family now. Remember that."
The elves bowed deeply, gratitude shining in their eyes. In that moment, the villa truly did feel alive with new bonds, stronger than chains or contracts—woven by choice, trust, and the strange twist of fate that had brought them together.