Saan removed their gauntlet and armor, setting them on the table. Beneath, they wore a loose white shirt tucked into black leggings. A golden chain around their neck held a deep blue gem pendant, shaped like a winged dragon. They studied it silently, then placed it in the drawer by the bed.
They doffed their white-and-gold boots alongside the remaining armor, and entered the bathroom. The sprinkler hissed as they turned the lever, water cascading over their shoulders and pooling at their feet. Their long ears drooped, curving to keep water out, but the left twitched, catching faint echoes of a stream below, as if caverns lay beneath.
After bathing, Saan flicked the lever to stop the water and light, then dried their dripping white hair with a towel from the wardrobe. They dressed in a dark green shirt and grey trousers, then paused at the table, eyeing the cracked, maroon-stained gauntlet. Retrieving the pendant, they clasped it around their neck. The gem absorbed droplets from their hair, shimmering as Saan touched it briefly.
Across the room, the clock ticked steadily. Its face was shaped as a pentadecagon, fifteen points marked with numbers. The thinnest arrow struck out a hundred ticks for each minute passed, whereupon the longer arrow shifted, and with fifty of those movements, the stoutest hand crept forward half the space between two numbers. Above the center, within the ring of figures, a small circular panel depicted a moon surrounded by stars. With each passing minute, it moved ever so slightly.
The clock struck ten in the night, leaving five hours until sunrise.
Saan's ears lifted as footsteps and hushed voices approached. A knock followed.
"Hold the chair steady, it's hittin' me," Lisa muttered outside.
"It's heavier than your plate," Ben drawled.
Saan opened the door. Lisa, Ben, and Jessica froze. Jessica held a food tray, smiling nervously. "Here's your meal, sir."
Ben shifted the chair, tapping Jessica's leg.
"Watch it," she snapped.
"It ain't dinner, it's a night meal," Ben said.
"Whatever," Jessica sighed. "We brought your food and a chair, Mr. Saan."
"Alright," Saan replied.
Jessica set the tray on the bedside table, and Ben placed the chair nearby. "Sorry, sir. Last customer broke the old one," Ben said.
"If the food's not to your taste, let us know. No charge," Jessica added. "Leave the plate in the corner or on the table. Can we take your folded clothes for cleaning?"
Saan nodded toward the bed.
"No extra charge for Silver Room members," Jessica said, collecting the clothes.
Ben's eyes lingered on the gauntlet's craftsmanship. "We'll leave you be. Good night, sir," Jessica said, nudging Ben.
"Sorry," Ben said, flustered. "Just curious about elf craftsmanship."
"It's alright," Saan replied.
The door closed. Outside, Jessica whispered, "You made us look suspicious."
"I was just curious," Ben said. "The gauntlet's carvings, incredible."
"I don't care about that," Jessica said. "What was your first thought seeing Saan's face? Elves are… otherworldly."
"Lisa and I heard the commotion earlier," Ben said. "We were focused on the bandage."
"Why didn't you tell me? I wanted to see Jerry handle it," Jessica said, annoyed.
"You were bleedin' out," Ben muttered.
"I wasn't *that* scared," Jessica huffed.
Their voices faded. Saan ate in silence, then set the plate by the bathroom door. Washing their hands, they heard the underground stream again. The clock chimed half past ten. The table lamp cast a warm glow as Saan lay in bed, eyes on the flicker, then closed them.
"Sa'an… Sa'an…" A woman's voice echoed through darkness. Saan stood between towering pillars, each holding a blue flame casting faint light across black ground. Above, the ceiling shimmered with ancient drawings: armored elves charging, led by a figure on a crimson dragon.
An elf stood ahead, her face shadowed save for white hair and long ears. Her white gown gleamed with rubies, her hair adorned with trinkets, her ears with a sapphire dragon and ruby bird. Jeweled rings glinted on her fingers, nails painted blue on the left, red on the right.
"Mother? What are you doing here?" Saan asked, voice soft but firm.
"Why must you leave me, like your father?" she said coldly. "You disappoint me."
"No, Mother," Saan said, bowing. "I'll be greater than him. I'll return and prove myself."
"You cannot surpass him by following him," she said. "Be like your brother, not chasing fantasies."
"My path is a dream, a challenge Father left," Saan replied.
"Blinded fool," she spat. "He wed a lowborn and abandoned us. That's your legacy."
"He cared enough to spare us disgrace," Saan said. "You believe it too, Mother."
"Stop your rambling," she said, fist tightening. "Return alive, Sa'an, so I may teach you manners."
"I will return, even if only for your punishment," Saan said, unshaken.
A deep ringing shook the hall, bells tolling ten times. The blue flames flickered, then died, plunging the hall into darkness.
Saan opened their eyes as the bells continued. With each chime, the remnants of stars painted within a small panel of the clock shifted ever so slightly, until, at the fifteenth strike, the final stars vanished, replaced by the pale morning sky, drifting clouds, and the rising sun.
A new day had begun.
Saan gazed at the clock for a moment, then rose. Before bathing, they grabbed a cloth near the armour stand to clean the armour. Wetting it, they carried each piece to the bathroom, wiping off dried blood and dust.
After finishing, they left the cloth and the Gauntlet hanging in the bathroom.
Once bathed, Saan changed into a grey T-shirt and white trousers. Though extra footwear lay nearby, they roamed barefoot.
Their ears twitched as a footstep approached while they wore their pendant.
Saan moved closer to the door and waited. Then came a knock.
"Mr. Saan, it's—"
Saan opened the door. Ben stood there, carrying a plate of food and a jug of water. He stepped inside, placed them on the table, and glanced at the Gauntlet before turning back to Saan.
"Mr. Saan, I'm a blacksmith's son. My family's been in the trade for generations. I may not be one myself, but I've handled plenty of tools and artifacts. We might not match elven craft, but I doubt you've got a better option here," Ben said confidently.
Saan met his gaze. "Are you claiming I don't?"
"Not sayin' you can't, just sayin' it's unlikely. You seem alone and new here," Ben replied with a nervous smile.
"Then tell me more about this best option," Saan said.
"Far southeast lies Iron Yard, a mining town. You could reach it before sunset if you don't rest. Follow the light posts across the desert—they'll guide you past a small stop for supplies before the main town," Ben explained.
Saan's ears twitched again as another footstep approached. Their gaze shifted to the open door.
"The town's important because—"
Ben turned to see Jerry approaching with a wooden box.
"Sir, why'd ya bring that yerself?" Ben asked.
Jerry smiled. "It'd be disrespectful not to see off an important guest like Mr. Saan myself. Besides, others are busy with customers."
Ben looked disappointed but followed Jerry.
"The customers are also here to see you off, Mr. Saan. We don't get sky elves often," Ben added.
"I understand, Mr. Jerry, and appreciate the attention, though I'm not sure I deserve it," Saan said.
Jerry opened the box, revealing the cloak, white shirt, and hosen.
"We cleaned them like you asked, and patched the burnt sections of your cloak," Jerry said, placing each garment on the bed.
"I appreciate that. I'll recommend your services when I can," Saan replied.
"Oh, no need, but I'll take it!" Jerry laughed, closing the box. As he left, his eyes flicked toward the Gauntlet.
"Hope Ben explains the mining town well," Jerry said over his shoulder.
"Uh… yeah, I will, sir," Ben replied, flustered.
Saan's eyes narrowed on Jerry, then shifted to Ben.
"So, Ben, continue. And tell me, did Mr. Jerry instruct you?"
"More like advised me to help when Jessica told him about the Gauntlet," Ben said nervously.
"Hmm, I see. Go on," Saan said, inspecting the cloak.
"The town's built around an iron mine, bigger than Sunk Down. My family—the Smithsons—are known blacksmiths there. I left home young, so best not mention me, but they'll help you with the Gauntlet," Ben said.
"Do they still contact you?" Saan asked, folding the shirt.
"My brother visits sometimes, but my father and grandfather don't ask about me," Ben replied, looking down.
Saan folded the shirt and picked up the leggings, noticing something in the pocket.
"I'm fine with that," Ben continued. "I'm chasing my dream—my mother's last one."
Saan pulled out a small letter sealed with red wax, "JJ" stamped in the center, with a note beside it: Give this to the Smithson family. It will help you—and me. —Jerry.
Ben picked up the box, avoiding Saan's eyes and brushing the old clothes aside.
"Ben, thank you for your help. You should at least speak to your family. You don't sound like you hate them," Saan said.
"Thank you, Mr. Saan. I'll heed your advice," He said quietly.
"With that said, enjoy your breakfast before it gets cold." Ben smiled warmly, before he headed to the door, closing it softly behind him.
Saan ate, changed, donned their armour, and took a final look at the room before leaving.
As they reached the stairway, others were leaving the lodging too. The tavern grew louder. Sunlight streamed down as Saan opened the door.
They climbed the stairs, shielding their eyes from the glare through the window.
Murmurs filled the tavern.
"Is that the hooded figure?"
"This time they ain't wearin' the hood."
"Are they leavin'?"
"They look better than I expected."
Saan moved steadily, lowering their hand as their eyes adjusted. Every gaze followed them until they left the tavern.
Outside, the tavern's murmuring gave way to the sounds of people walking the streets and shouting. A woman called out, her voice soft but alluring:
"Mr. Saan, I've been waitin' for you since the sun rose."