-The next morning-
The window let in a ray of sunlight that made Oreon stir, forcing him to turn away as he slept. A few feet away was the bed where the Elven sisters slept. Sylvanie slowly stretched, then suddenly remembered where they were. She swiftly checked herself and then gazed at her sister, who sat upright beside her, a pleasant smile on her face.
Sylvanie then quickly threw back the parts of the covers to make sure she was still clothed.
"If you're wondering if the human did anything to us while we were sleeping, you can stop worrying," Celestia said,
Sylvanie's eyes narrowed as she glanced toward the window seat where Oreon remained curled up, still fast asleep. "I wasn't worried," She muttered, though the slight tension in her shoulders suggested otherwise. "I was just...checking."
"Of course you were." Celestia's smile widened knowingly.
"Don't start," Sylvanie warned, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Her violet hair was a mess, tangled and sticking up in places, yet somehow, she still looked dangerous, even fresh from sleep. She stood, stretching her arms above her head with a soft groan. "How long have you been awake?"
"Long enough," Celestia replied softly, her gaze drifting towards Oreon. "He didn't move once during the night. I think yesterday took more out of him than he let on."
Sylvanie followed her sister's gaze, studying Oreon's sleeping form with a critical eye. His face looked peaceful—too peaceful for someone who'd been limping around because A Voidborne had forcibly expelled them from their plane. The towel had slipped from his neck at some point during the night, and his shirt had ridden up slightly, revealing a glimpse of his bandaged torso.
"Idiot probably made it worse by refusing to rest properly," Sylvanie muttered as she crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly. "He could have at least asked if he could sleep on the bed." She huffed before turning away from him."
Celestia raised an eyebrow at her sister's comment. "You would have let him?"
"That's not the point," Sylvanie shot back, a bit too quickly. "The point is he should have asked, instead, he just...assumed we'd be fine with him sleeping on that uncomfortable window seat like some kind of...I don't know..." She grunted. "Just look at him, his neck is all leaning to the side."
Celestia's expression softened as she observed Oreon's awkward sleeping position. His head was tilted at an angle that would definitely leave him with a stiff neck, and one of his arms dangled off the edge of the cushion. "You're right...that does look rather uncomfortable."
"Of course I'm right," Sylvanie muttered as she turned back towards him. "He's going to wake up complaining, and then we're going to have to listen to him groan about it all day."
"Would you prefer to wake him now?" Celestia asked gently, already knowing her sister's answer.
"No," Sylvanie said immediately, then paused. "...Let him sleep a bit longer. We've got nowhere urgent to be yet, and if he's going to be useful, he needs to actually recover." She walked over to the small tablet near the bed, seeing the rags that she had on the night before, narrowing her eyes at it for a moment. "Besides, I want to figure out our next move before he wakes up and starts making suggestions."
Celestia rose from the bed, smoothing down her nightgown. "You mean you want to have a plan ready so you can shoot down whatever he proposes?"
Sylvanie's lips quirked into a smirk. "Exactly, see? You understand me perfectly."
"I've had two centuries and 6 decades of practice," Celestia replied, gently shaking her head.
"Details, sister, details," Sylvanie responded as she picked up one of the rags they wore when they were in the Order's dungeon, disdain clearly on her face. "And I'm not putting these back on," She dismissively tossed the attire into a nearby trash bin.
Celestia watched the discarded rags fall into the bin with a soft thud. "I can't say that I blame you." She directed her own gaze towards her rags that lay on the table. "Though that does present us with a rather immediate problem."
"What, that we have nothing to wear?" Sylvanie glanced down at the simple nightwear she'd borrowed. "I'm aware. We need better clothes. Besides," Sylvanie stretched her arms out. "We can't necessarily fight in these either." She looked up at her sister. "And we don't have any coins."
Suddenly, the door opened up, revealing Meara as she walked in with her hands folded behind her back, her gaze calm as she stepped into the room. "Ah, I see you both are already up; how did you sleep?" She spoke, as she walked past them and stood beside Oreon's sleeping form."
Celestia straightened slightly, offering Meara a gentle smile. "We slept well, thank you. Your hospitality has been...more than we could have hoped for."
Sylvanie, meanwhile, eyed Meara, her gaze still mixed with a bit of curiosity, but more so caution. "Better than we have in months," She admitted, crossing her arms lightly across her chest. "Though I'm guessing that's not the reason you came up here." She tilted her head.
"Aye, though, I normally come up here because I'm the reason why the boy gets up in the morning." She smiled warmly, her eyes focusing on Oreon. "He's always been a heavy sleeper, that one. Even as a child, you'd need to practically shake him awake." She reached down, gently adjusting the pillow beneath his head so his neck wasn't at such an awkward angle. "Stubborn too. A trait that his mother carried heavily."
Sylvanie watched the interaction as she narrowed her eyes at them. There was something...maternal about the way Meara handled Oreon. Not quite motherly, but still, something like a parent all the same.
"You sound like you raised him yourself," Celestia observed as well.
"Helped raise." Meara corrected. "Been keeping my eye on him since his mother and sister were slain." She continued to watch him sleep. "A good boy this one is," Meara said quietly as the two sisters watched the scene play out in front of him, as they began to witness Meara's gentle side with Oreon, until.
"WAKE UP, YOU LAZY LUMMOX! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU NOT TO OVERSLEEP!"
Oreon jolted awake with a startled yelp, his body jerking so violently that he nearly rolled off the window seat entirely. His arms flailed for a moment before he caught himself, blinking rapidly as his brain tried to catch up with what was happening.
"Wha—I—Meara?!" He gasped, one hand clutching his chest. "What the hell, Woman! You damn near gave me a heart attack! What the hell is wrong with you?!"
Meara stood there with her hands on her hips, completely unbothered by his outburst. "What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you, sleeping in like some pampered noble!" She scolded him. "The sun's been up for nearly an hour, and here you are, sprawled out like you've got nothing better to do!"
"I was resting!" Oreon protested, comically getting in Meara's face. "You know—recovering from everything I had to deal with last night!"
"Oh, poor you!" Meara shouted back, getting back in his face. Their foreheads pressed into one another. "You think a little limping gives you permission to laze about?!" Mire continued not backing down an inch. "I've seen men with worse injuries up and working before dawn!"
"That's because everyone you know is a slave driver!" Oreon retaliated, slightly pushing her head back with his own.
With identical expressions of bewilderment, Sylvanie and Celestia stood still, witnessing the scene play out before them.
"What the hell are they..." Sylvanie started.
"I don't know..." Celestia answered.
"Is this normal for them?" Sylvanie questioned again.
"I don't know..." Celestia responded.
"It's like...They do this all the time." Sylvanie added.
"I... Don't know." Was Celestia's only answer as the argument continued to escalate, both Oreon and Meara seemingly oblivious to their audience?
"YOU WATCH YOUR MOUTH, BOY!" Meara barked, her forehead slowly pushing Oreon's back. "I didn't raise you to talk back like some street urchin!"
"YOU DIDN'T RAISE ME AT ALL!" Oreon shot back, his forehead pushing Meara's back this time. "I was already 15 when you had me!"
"FIFTEEN IS STILL A CHILD, YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE—" Meara's voice rose even higher, her hands now gesturing wildly between them.
"I WAS NEARLY A MAN!" Oreon countered, his own hands joining the dramatic display. "I COULD ALREADY SWING A SWORD AND EVERYTHING!"
"YOU COULD BARELY TIE YOUR OWN BOOTS PROPERLY!'
"THAT WAS ONE TIME!"
"IT WAS EVERY TIME FOR THE FIRST MONTH!" Meara finally leaned back, releasing a small huff before returning her gaze to Oreon. "Now that you're up and about, I need you to stop by Silas's shop," Meara instructed calmly. "Last night, I told him you would be stopping by first thing in the morning, and to take you three and fit you some clothes." Meara finished explaining as Oreon's expression completely changed as well, as if the argument hadn't happened.
"Silas? Old man Silas?" Oreon asked, blinking a few times.
"Aye," Meara confirmed, smoothing down her apron as if the shouting match hadn't just rattled the entire room. "He's expecting you. Said he'd have something ready—nothing fancy, mind you, but proper clothes that won't fall apart if you so much as sneeze."
Oreon rubbed the back of his neck, wincing slightly as he discovered the stiffness Sylvanie had predicted earlier. "Silas is still working? I thought he would have retired by now. Old man got to be pushing seventy about now."
"Seventy-three." Meara corrected. "And if you would stop running off on your own, then maybe you could actually stay around and visit him for a while before he keels over." Meara placed her hands behind her back, slowly walking towards the window to look out at the town square. "But to your comment, he's still as sharp as ever. His eyes might not be what they used to be, but his hands still know their way around a needle better than anyone in this town." She glanced back at the trio. "Besides, that old grump owes me a favor or two, so you don't have to worry about payment or him running his mouth."
Celestia and Sylvanie looked at Meara before directing their gaze towards Oreon, and Oreon responded as if he already knew what they were thinking.
"Silas is...well, he's particular. But he's good at what he does." He began to explain. "He's a tailor—one of the best in town, actually. Bit eccentric, but—"
"Eccentric is putting it mildly," Meara interjected, still gazing out the window. "The man talks to his fabrics like they're people. Argues with them too, full-blown squabbles as if he created a family with those things." She turned back to face them, her expression softening just slightly. "But he's trustworthy. He's a man who minds his own business with a passion for sewing clothing that can't be replicated."
Sylvanie raised an eyebrow. "So, we're going to visit a half-blind human man and let him dress us? What kind of half-assed made-up plan is this?" Meara's eyes flickered towards her as she crossed her arms.
"Would you rather walk around like you're leaving a brothel?" Meara questioned.
"A brothel?" Sylvanie's eyes widened at the comment before narrowing dangerously at Meara. "Excuse me? Are you comparing me to a—"
"I'm stating that if you constantly walk around like that, you'll be inviting the kind of attention that you don't want, the ugly side of not just humanity, but all living creatures." Meara cut her off smoothly as she walked away from the window and towards the group, her eyes still on Sylvanie. "Do not let your pride blind you from reality, child. The world is a beautiful yet ugly place. Some people don't care about your heritage, or the order for that matter, so long as they can get a quick fix. Especially in small, thrown-together towns like this." When Meara was done, Sylvanie's lip subtly trembled while considering Meara's statement.
Suddenly, Celestia placed her hand gently on her little sister's shoulder before she could say anything. "She's right, Sylvanie," Celestia said softly, slightly smiling at her. "We've been...fortunate so far. But being fortunate doesn't last forever, and given our current circumstances..." She looked down at her nightgown and nodded towards Sylvanie's nightwear, which was given to her. "These may be ok for a modest evening, but we are in a position that leaves us vulnerable to a lot more than just the Order finding us."
Sylvanie gritted her teeth a bit. For a moment, it looked like she might argue, but then...She exhaled sharply through her nose, her shoulders dropping as she brought her head back up.
"Fine," She grumbled, turning her gaze away. "We'll go see this...Silas person." She paused, then added under her breath. "He better not try anything weird, or I'm killing him." She muttered like a child who lost an argument.
"You don't have to worry about that." Oreon replied, "Silas is a unique character, yes, but you don't have to worry about—well, you know; but...I do have to warn you, he does measure everything...and I do mean...everything."
"Everything?" Sylvanie's head snapped toward Oreon so fast that his violet hair whipped through the air. "What exactly do you mean by everything, human?"
Oreon held up his hands defensively, already regretting his choice of words. "I mean—look, he's a perfectionist, alright? He takes measurements to make sure your clothes fit you properly. You know, all the normal stuff that tailors do. It's just...He's very thorough about it."
Celestia turned her head towards Sylvanie. "Like how our clothes were made to fit us back at home, remember? They would have us stretch our arms out and measure us. Although" Celestia thought to herself, placing a finger on her chin, slightly tilting her head back as she looked up at the ceiling. "I don't remember that turning out well either."
Sylvanie quickly sent a slight glare over at Celestia before Oreon cut in. "Look, he's an old guy. But he's a professional. If you want clothes that actually fit properly and won't restrict your movement—especially when you're fighting, then he's the man to go to—So, the measurements are necessary."
Sylvanie's eyes dart back to Oreon. "And this old man will be the one doing the measuring?"
"Well...yes?" Oreon replied, though it came out more like a question. "He's the tailor. That's literally his job."
"Absolutely not." Sylvanie crossed her arms firmly across her chest. "I'm not letting some strange human put his old human hands all over me." She turned her head away from Oreon like a child who was already feeling slightly annoyed first thing in the morning.
"What the—it's literally his job!" Oreon exclaimed, waving his arms a bit. "Geez, what is wrong with you!"
"I don't care! Sylvanie shot back. "I didn't survive being locked in a dungeon and dragged halfway across the kingdom just to have some old man's hands wandering all over my body. What kind of woman do you take me for?!"
Meara let out a long, weary sigh, drooping her shoulders. "For the love of—child, Silas has been measuring people for over fifty years. He's seen everybody imaginable. You're not special.
Sylvanie's head quickly turned towards Meara, her expression somewhere between offended and incredulous. "Not special? I'm a—"
"A dark elf, yes, we're all aware." Meara interrupted dryly. "And Silas has fitted dark elves before. High elves, too. Dwarves, Werebeasts, Saberfangs, Cottontails—you name it. He's dressed it. The man doesn't care. To him, you're just another set of proportions that need clothing."
Meara, having had enough of the conversation, slowly turned around with her hands behind her back again. "Now cease this senseless squabbling, Lena's making breakfast, and I won't have you three going out there on an empty stomach." She took a few steps towards the doorway that led down the stairway.
The three looked at each other for a moment, an awkward silence for a moment, before they all looked at the stairway, blinking in unison, not saying a word.
The trio finally made their way downstairs. The scent of cooked eggs, bread, and the sweet smell of honey cakes alongside sizzling meat wafted up from below, making Oreon's stomach growl audibly. He pressed a hand against his stomach, grimacing slightly.
"Shut up," Sylvanie muttered at him without even looking in his direction.
"I didn't say anything!" Oreon protested.
"I was talking to your stomach." She shot back, descending the stairs with her arms still crossed. "It's loud and annoying; silence it."
"What?!" Oreon jerked his head towards her. "Silence my stomach, what kind of princess decree is that?
"The kind that prevents me from losing what little patience I have left this morning," Sylvanie replied coolly, her eyes flicking toward him briefly. "Between your stomach growling and the fact that later, some old man is going to grope me—"
"He's not going to grope you!" Oreon cut her off. "He's going to measure you! There's a difference!"
"Is there?" Sylvanie shot back, her tone dripping with skepticism as she reached the bottom of the stairs. "Because from where I'm standing. It sounds like the same thing to me."
Celestia, who had been quietly following behind them, took a deep breath before finally speaking up. "Sylvanie...Please. You're being difficult on purpose now."
"Celestia, I'm being realistic." Sylvanie turned her head towards her sister.
"No, you're being stubborn," Celestia corrected gently, but was firm with her response. "And you know it. We need clothing, supplies, and a plan, and you're making this harder than it needs to be."
Sylvanie opened her mouth to retort, but paused when they entered the dining area. The smell of food hit them full force, and even her irritation seemed to waver for just a moment as her eyes landed on the spread that was on one of the larger tables.
The tavern's main room looked different in the morning light—warmer, more welcoming than it had appeared in the dim evening hours. Sunlight streams through the windows, catching dust motes that dance in golden beams across the wooden floor. The space was cleaned, but lived in, with tables scrubbed but bearing the marks and nicks of countless patrons over the years.
Lena stood near the table, wiping her hands on a cloth tucked into her apron. Her blue eyes lit up when she saw them descend the stairs, and she immediately gestured toward the empty chairs.
"There you are!" She said cheerfully. "I was starting to think grandmother was going to let you sleep in all day." She gleamed.
Oreon gave her a side glance, not full of the same happiness Lena was giving off. "You know that's not true; Meara has never let me sleep in since the day that I met her." Oreon groaned.
Lena let out a light laugh, slapping Oreon in the back, causing him to grimace as he sent a playful glare her way. "Fair point. She did wake me up at the crack of dawn to help prepare all this." She moved around the table, adjusting a plate here and there.
"Aye, but I let you get an extra hour of sleep, and you're still ungrateful." Meara chimed in, glancing over at Oreon. "You're still just as lazy as ever, always trying to sleep late." After sitting down, she took a sip from the cup her granddaughter had prepared.
"Lazy! I'm not lazy, you old hag!" Oreon protested, moving toward the table with a slight limp. "I broke into the Order's stronghold, rescued two elves, fought against the Order, and more! How many people can you say did that and woke up at the crack of dawn!" Oreon's head grew comically big as he glared at Meara, who continued to pay him no mind, sipping from her cup once more.
"Plenty," Meara replied without missing a beat, setting her cup down with a soft clink. "The difference is they didn't use it as a crutch like some ungrateful brat I know."
"Ungrateful brat!" Oreon seethed.
Celestia, who was now standing beside Lena, could only watch as the two went at it again. "Are they...Always like this?" She whispered to her.
Lena glanced at Celestia, her expression somewhere between amused and resigned. "Every. Single. Day." She whispered back, shaking her head with a small smile. "You'd think they hated each other if you didn't know better, but...well, that's just how they show they care, I suppose."
"Care?" Sylvanie raised an eyebrow as she watched the exchange between the two. "This is what humans call caring? Insulting each other until someone's voice gives out?"
"Pretty much," Lena confirmed with a light shrug. "Though usually, grandmother wins. Oreon's never been able to out-stubborn her—not once in the decade that I've known him."
Sylvanie's expression shifted into something thoughtful, almost calculating, as she watched Oreon and Meara continue their bickering. "A decade..." She murmured under her breath. "So, this arrangement has been going on for quite some time, then?"
"Arrangement?" Lena tilted her head slightly, confusion flickering across her features. "I wouldn't call it an arrangement. It's more like—"
"The boy was placed in my care after the incident with his mother and sister. However, ever since then, he's been a pain in my ass, always complaining and whining about hard work and never getting enough sleep." Meara sipped her cup again.
"That's not—" Oreon started, but Meara cut him off with a single raised hand.
"Sit down and eat before the food gets cold," She commanded, her tone brooking no argument. "We've wasted enough time on your theatrics this morning."
Oreon opened his mouth to protest again, but his stomach betrayed him with another loud growl—this one even louder than before. He grimaced, pressing a hand against his abdomen as if that would somehow silence it.
"See?" Sylvanie muttered from where she stood. "Loud and annoying." But her cheeks quickly flushed embarrassingly as her own stomach started making a set of sounds on its own.
Celestia pressed her lips together, clearly trying not to laugh as Sylvanie's stomach let out another audible rumble. The dark elf's face turned an even deeper shade of red, her eyes widening slightly before she shot a glare at absolutely no one in particular.
"Don't," Sylvanie warned, her voice low and dangerous as she pointed a finger at Oreon, who had already opened his mouth. "Don't you dare—"
"I wasn't going to say anything!" Oreon held up both hands defensively, though the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips said otherwise. "Your stomach spoke for itself."
"Alright now, I've heard enough of this foolishness. Sit down and eat before Lena's hard work goes to waste." Meara sent a slight glare towards Oreon and Sylvanie.
Without another word, the group finally settled around the table, the earlier tension giving way to the simple, undeniable need for food. Lena had outdone herself—the spread was modest but hearty, with thick slices of bread still warm from the oven, eggs seasoned with herbs, sliced roasted meat, and honey cakes soft with a mouth-watering, fluffy texture and glazed with honey.
Celestia sat down gracefully, folding her hands in her lap for just a moment. Her eyes gazed at the full-blown course meal on the table. "Thank you, Ms. Lena. Your kindness is most appreciated."
Lena's cheeks flushed slightly at the formal gratitude, and she waved a hand dismissively, though her smile was genuine. "Oh, please—just Lena is fine. No need for all that "Ms." Stuff. Besides, it's nothing special. Just what we had on hand."
Sylvanie, less inclined toward pleasantries, has already begun attacking her food with surprising enthusiasm. Between bites, she glances up at the girl with narrowed eyes, as if assessing whether her cheerfulness is genuine or a threat.
"The food is...acceptable," she finally offers, still stuffing food into her mouth.
Oreon rolls his eyes at Sylvanie's grudging compliment before turning to Lena. "What this 'untamed beast' means to say is that this food is great!" Oreon exclaimed.
"Untamed beast?!" Sylvanie's head snapped up so fast that a piece of bread nearly fell from her mouth. She swallowed quickly, her eyes blazing as she glared daggers at Oreon. "Did you just call me a beast, you insufferable—"
"I called you untamed," Oreon corrected, cutting into his own portion of meat almost as if he was trying to prove how elegant he was compared to her. "Your behavior implied the beast part." He popped a piece into his mouth, chewing with exaggerated satisfaction while maintaining eye contact with her.
Sylvanie gripped a fork that was lying next to her plate. "You—"
"Sylvanie," Celestia said softly, causing her sister to pause her actions and slowly resume eating.
For a moment, the sounds of eating took over the empty tavern, a peaceful sound before Meara took up her napkin and dabbed her mouth a bit.
"So, after you get refitted, have you come up with a plan on what you are going to do next?" She turned her gaze towards Oreon. "The Order may send a few soldiers to pass through, collect their debts from these poor folks.
Oreon's fork paused halfway in his mouth, the playfulness that he exhibited earlier fading as Meara's words settled over the table. He set the fork down slowly, his expression shifting into something more serious—more calculating,
"I know," He said quietly, "That's why we need to move fast. The longer we stay in one place, the more danger we put everyone in." He glanced toward Lena, then back to Meara. "I was thinking if we could stretch this out for at least another day or so. At least to give us time to stock up supplies and so that these two can get a few more nights of rest, without it, they're no better than what they were when I broke them out." Oreon answered, staring at his plate, not realizing that the last statement caused both Celestia and Sylvanie to glance over at him, but not say anything.
Meara studied him for a long moment, her weathered fingers tapping lightly against the rim of her cup. "A day, maybe two more at most," She said finally, her tone measured. "Any longer than that and you're gambling with lives—not just yours, but everyone in this town." She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing. "The Order doesn't take kindly to being embarrassed, and what you did? They will definitely try to hunt you down and make an example out of you."
Oreon's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "I know..."
"Probably more so because of that Dragon shard you stole from them," Sylvanie spoke as she stuffed another piece in her mouth.
Meara's eyes widened instantly. "Dragon shard!" She exclaimed.
Lena's hand froze mid-reach for the breadbasket, her blue eyes going wide as saucers. "Wait—YOU DID WHAT!
The entire table went silent except for the sound of Sylvanie continuing to chew, seemingly unbothered by the bomb she'd just dropped into the middle of breakfast.
Oreon's head whipped toward Sylvanie so fast it was a wonder he didn't give himself whiplash. "Could you—" He hissed under his breath, his eyes wide with alarm. "Could you not just blurt that out?!"
Sylvanie swallowed her food and shrugged, reaching for another honey cake. "What? You were talking about the Order hunting us down. Seemed relevant." She took a bite, her eyes flicking toward him with an air of complete nonchalance. "Besides, it's not like it's a secret. They already know you have it."
"That doesn't mean we needed to announce it to the entire room!" Oreon hissed, gesturing around the table.
"The 'entire room' is five people," Sylvanie shot back coolly, "And two of them are already harboring fugitives. What's one more crime added to the list?"
Celestia pressed her fingers against her temple, exhaling slowly as if summoning every ounce of patience she had left. "Sylvanie...please."
"What?" Sylvanie turned towards her sister, genuinely confused. "I'm just being honest."
Meara set her cup down with a deliberate clink, the sound cutting through the tension like a blade. Her expression completely shifted, now more serious and concerned.
"A Dragon shard," She repeated slowly. "Boy...do you have any idea what you've gotten yourself into?" Her voice was low, dangerous even, but not directed at Oreon in anger—it was the tone of someone who understood the gravity of what he'd done.
Oreon met her gaze, his jaw set, but didn't say anything.
"Oreon...Please tell me she's exaggerating." Lena face-palmed, slowly dragging her hand down her face. "Please tell me...By the stars, please tell me you didn't..."
Oreon remained silent, unable to respond to either of them.
Lena's hand dropped from her face, revealing an expression caught somewhere between disbelief and genuine fear. "Out of all the irresponsible—"
"Boy, you snuck in and stole a sacred relic," Meara cut in, her fingers drumming once against the table before going still. "Show me." Her eyes remained stern as Oreon hesitated a bit.
Oreon chose to keep his eyes fixed on his plate as his hand instinctively moved toward the pouch at his side before stopping mid-motion. His fingers hovered there, trembling slightly—not from fear, but from the weight of what revealing it would mean.
"Grandmother—" Lena started, but Meara raised a single finger, silencing her granddaughter without even looking her way."
"Show. Me." Meara repeated, each word heavy and deliberate.
Oreon swallowed hard, his throat working visibly. For a moment, he looked like he might argue. Might try to deflect, but something in Meara's eyes made him realize there was no escape from this.
Slowly, reluctantly, he reached into the leather pouch at his belt. His fingers closed around something smooth and warm, pulsing faintly with a rhythm that felt almost alive. When he withdrew his hand, encased within it was a red shard shaped like a jagged teardrop—as if it had been torn from something much larger.
The shard caught reflected the sunlight streaming through the windows, refracting it in ways that shouldn't have been possible. Crimson veins of energy pulsed beneath its surface like a heartbeat—slow, steady, and ancient. The air around it seemed to shimmer with heat, though Oreon's hand showed no signs of burning.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Lena's breath hitched audibly, her hand moving to cover her mouth. "By the stars..."
Celestia leaned forward slightly, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of the artifact. Although she had seen the shard twice, once with Oreon in the forest before Rot's arrival, her eyes still betrayed a hint of wonder mixed with apprehension.
Sylvanie had stopped eating entirely, her gaze fixed on the shard, carrying a similar expression to her sister.
Meara's expression remained unreadable as she studied the shard from across the table. Her fingers drummed once against the wood before going still again.
"Put it away," She said finally, giving a simple instruction.
Oreon hesitated for only a second before quickly tucking the shard back into his pouch, his movements almost desperate—as if keeping it exposed any longer might invite disaster.
The moment it disappeared from view, the strange pressure in the air seemed to ease, though the tension around the table remained thick enough to cut with a knife.
Meara leaned back in her chair, her fingers interlacing as she regarded, placing her folded hands on the table as she stared at the spot where the dragon shard had been.
"Do you have any idea of what the Order would do to get that back?" Meara began slowly. "Do you even know what you're walking around with right now?" She added.
Oreon continued to sit there for a moment, slowly taking a deep breath. "When I was younger..." Oreon began. "There was one thing that kept coming up in Mom's conversations when she was around the elves in the eastern village. One thing they both would say." Oreon took the chance to gulp as he relived his childhood years in his mind. "The Order can't gather all the dragon shards...If they do..." Oreon didn't finish his statement, but he slowly brought his head up to look at Meara. "When I found out that they were holding one close by...I don't know...Something told me I had to take it, it was like my mother's voice ringing in my head...That same sentence." He lowered his gaze again.
Meara's expression softened—just barely, just enough for those who knew her well to notice. She exhaled slowly through her nose.
"Your mother...She was a smart one. Stubborn to the bone, but smart." She took another breath. "If you heard her conversations with the Elves, then." Meara closed her eyes for a moment. "Then that means she did a horrible job of keeping things from you." Meara opened her eyes once again.
"What?" Oreon quickly questioned, as if not understanding where Meara was going with this.
Meara exhaled again. "Listen, boy. There are a lot of things that your mother kept from you but only told your sister because of where she was in age." Meara began. "The dragon shard being one of them." Meara continued. "I'll keep this brief. If your father hadn't attacked when he did, the Order would probably be crumbling by now." Meara stated. "The shard you're holding now is only a piece of a single artifact...an artifact from the dragonborns themselves, and if put back together..." She let her sentence hang, but Celestia caught on quickly.
"The divine season..." Celestia finished. "What Rot said before he died," She turned towards Oreon. "What he told us, for the Order to begin the divine season..."
"They need all the shards..." Sylvanie added as she glanced over at Celestia. "But we already knew that. What's the big surprise...We have one of them so—"
"That's not going to stop the Divine season from happening, child." Meara cut her off with a serious expression that caught all of them in her gaze.
The words landed like a hammer, silencing the table once again. Even Sylvanie, who rarely allowed herself to be caught off guard, sat frozen with her honey cake halfway in her mouth.
"What...What do you mean it won't stop it?" Celestia's eyes widened, panic slowly filling her voice. "If they don't have all the shards, then they can't—"
"That's not how it works," Meara interrupted, as her eyes darted over to Celestia, quickly glancing at the door of the Tavern for a second before regarding the group once again. "The Divine season isn't a ritual that needs the dragon shards, it's just purification on a genocidal scale," Meara explained calmly. "What is gained from the Divine Season is what begins the ritual," She added as she brought her gaze over to Oreon, specifically the pouch at his side.
"...The Dragon...Shard." Oreon spoke quietly as he looked down at the pouch as well.
"Correct." Meara nodded slowly. "The Dragonbornes were the ones to create such an artifact. To be more precise, it was in the shape of an orb. Within it, contained power that no mere mortal could match, not even in the elves with all their wisdom." She continued.
"The Draconis Orb?" Celestia breathed as Meara nodded her head towards her.
"Elven history has taught you well." Meara praised her as she went back to addressing the group. "There are three types of creatures on this land that outclass us in power that we mortals can only hope to achieve. And you've already met one." She grimaced as she held up her hand. "The Dragonbornes, The Voidbornes, and..." She paused. "The Dreambornes."
The group's eyes widened in shock, mostly Celestia and Sylvanie having heard all three names from their teachings from their mother.
Lena's hand trembled slightly as she reached for her cup, needing something to ground herself. "Grandmother, you can't be serious. The Dreambornes are just...They're myths. Stories parents tell their kids to keep them from wandering too far into the woods at night."
"Myths? Come, child, you know better to call my words myths." Meara turned her attention to Lena, who slumped her shoulders, still holding her cup. "The elves sitting at this very table were taught better than that. The Dreambornes are as real as the air you breathe—they simply choose not to meddle in our affairs...most of the time."
Sylvanie had gone unusually still, her eyes fixed on her plate with an intensity that bordered on unnerving. "Mother spoke of them once," she said quietly. "She said they were the ones who walked between sleep and the waking. Ones who could reshape reality itself with nothing but thought and will." She paused, her fingers curling around her fork. "She also said that if we ever encountered one, to pray that it had no interest in us."
"She made sure to pass that wisdom along to you as much as she could." Meara acknowledged with a slight nod. "The Dreambornes are...unpredictable. Neither wholly good nor evil. They exist in a state between, much like the dreams they command." She leaned back in her chair, her hands now resting in her lap. "But that's not what concerns me right now." She added. "The Dragonbornes created the orb as a safeguard, a last resort, if you will. More so, it was created just in case a war broke out amongst the three."
"A safeguard..." Oreon repeated slowly, his brow furrowing as he tried to process what Meara was saying. "Against the other two?"
"Precisely," Meara confirmed. "The Dragonbornes knew that while they were powerful, they weren't invincible. If the Voidbornes or Dreambornes ever decided to turn against them—or against us mortals for that matter—they needed something that could level the playing field." She paused, letting that sink in. "The Draconis Orb was that something. However, that same safeguard became the pinnacle for their own demise." Meara continued to explain. "While the Dragonbornes kept their sights on the other two threats, the Order rose, and thus, the first purge began."
The table fell into a heavy silence, the weight of Meara's words settled over them like a shroud.
Celestia's hands had moved to rest flat against the table. "The first purge..." She whispered, her voice barely audible. "That's when—"
"When the Dragonbornes were nearly wiped from existence," Meara finished for her, tone grim. "The Order struck fast and without mercy. They caught the Dragonbornes off guard—focused as they were on watching the skies for threats from above, they never saw the blade coming from below." She shook her head slowly. "By the time they realized what was happening, it was too late."
Lena, trembling, had set her cup down. "But...but how? How could mere humans take down beings that powerful?"
"Because they weren't just 'mere humans' anymore," Meara replied, her eyes darkening. "The Order had been blessed—empowered by something...or someone. Divine magic flowed through their veins, magic that came from...Whatever god they prayed to." She closed her eyes briefly before reopening them. "And in their arrogance, the Dragonbornes underestimated them."
Sylvanie's jaw clenched. "So, they slaughtered them and took the orb?"
"Not quite,' Meara corrected. "The Dragonbornes, in their final moments, shattered it. Broke it into pieces and scattered them across the land so that no single force could ever wield its full power." She gestured toward Oreon's pouch. "What you're carrying right now? That's just one fragment of something far greater—and far more dangerous."
Oreon's hand instinctively moved to cover the pouch at his side, his expression torn between fear and determination. "So, if they gather all the shards..."
"Then they'll have access to power that was meant to stand against gods," Meara said flatly. "Power enough to not only reshape this world, however they see fit. Not only that, but enough to be a considerable threat to the Void and the Dreambornes...Which in turn..." She sighed. "May bring about a war that could eliminate us all anyway."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
"All the more reason to make sure they don't obtain the shard we have then," Celestia said firmly, looking over at Oreon, along with Meara, who followed her gaze.
"Aye, Boy...What you did was foolish, damn right idiotic. Placing a target on your back, not just for the Order but for your father, leading the charge on this region." She stared at Oreon, who lowered his head, almost second-guessing everything he did the day prior. "However, your mother would be proud. Terrified but proud."
Oreon's head snapped up at that, his eyes widening slightly. "She...She would?"
"Of course she would," Meara said, her voice softening just a fraction. "Your mother spent the majority of her life fighting against the Order, trying to protect people from their so-called 'divine justice.' If she knew you'd managed to steal one of their most prized possessions right out from under their noses?" A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "She'd probably give you an earful about the danger you put yourself in but laugh herself sick afterwards." Meara chuckled to herself.
Lena let out a shaky breath, running her fingers through her hair. "So, what now? We can't just...sit here and wait for them to come knocking on our door. If the know Oreon has the shard—"
"I wouldn't worry about that for now," Meara stated, getting up with her hands behind her back.
"What do you mean?" Oreon asked, his brow furrowing as he watched Meara rise from her seat. "Why wouldn't we worry about it now? The Order might come into town at any moment and then—"
"Did you forget who your father is, boy?' Meara questioned him, causing him to stop mid-sentence. "Alaric, or what he is referred to now. The Purifier will want to deal with you personally. Just like the time he approached your mother and your sister, the same way he led the charge against Vel'Andria. The Order also has ranking as well, and considering that you are the one who stole the shard, the purifier will feel pressure enough to deal with it; however, your father has always been slow on these things, so before he steps down himself, you have time."
Meara turned slightly, her gaze drifting toward the window as if she could see beyond the walls of the tavern, beyond the town itself. "Your father was always meticulous, calculating every move, weighing every option that he had. It's what made him so dangerous, but it's also what made him predictable." She paused, looking back at the group sitting at the table. "Be warned, he won't just send mere soldiers after you. No...He'll want to assess the situation, gather information, maybe even send scouts to confirm what happened before making his move."
Oreon narrowed his eyes. "How much time do you think we have then?" He questioned her. "If my father is going to personally make an appearance, then I'll need to be ready."
Meara looked at Oreon for a moment and slowly shook her head. "Boy, there's no telling how much time you actually have before the Order decides to come for you. However, the first thing you need to do is go see Silas and get fitted; you all have kept him waiting long enough."
Sylvanie leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a defiant huff. "Fitted? You mean measured and groped by some strange human man who probably hasn't seen a woman in—"
"Sylvanie," Celestia cut her off gently but firmly, her eyes meeting her sister's gaze. "We've been over this. We need better attire if we're going to move freely in this town without drawing attention." She paused, her voice softening. "I know you're uncomfortable, but..."
"Let her keep wearing what she's wearing," Oreon spoke up. "I'm sure Silas can do without a demonic elf running rampant in his shop." He closed his eyes, his chair leaning back a bit along with him.
Unbeknownst to him, Sylvanie's eyes shot up, imaginary flames surrounded her as she quickly got up and stood beside Oreon, her teeth gritted and her fist balled. "DEMONIC! YOU...YOU...INSUFFERABLE HUMAN!"
As Oreon opened up his eyes, he saw an angry Sylvanie leering at him. "Hey, wait, I was just joking...Wait!"
The scene changes, and Oreon is now being measured by Silas, holding his arms out with a large comedic lump on his head. Across was Sylvanie, standing there awaiting her turn with her arms crossed heavily, her eyes closed as she refused to look at him, while Celestia couldn't help but try her best to suppress a giggle.
The interior of Silas's shop was cramped, but organized bolts of fabric lined the walls in neat rows, their colors ranging from muted earth tones to richer hues of a variety of deep colors. The scent of dye and fresh linen hung in the air, mingling with the faint smell of wood polish from the countertop where Silas kept his tools.
Silas himself was a seasoned man in his early seventies, his eyes hidden behind a pair of round spectacles that constantly threatened to slide down his nose. His gray hair was tied back in a ponytail, moving efficiently around Oreon as he worked the measuring tape around Oreon's shoulders.
"Hold still now," Silas grumbled, sweat staining his large white shirt as he tried to concentrate. "Stand up straight and stop fidgeting. "He tugged the measuring tape tighter around Oreon's chest, scribbling notes onto a worn piece of parchment with a stub of charcoal. "Can't get the measurements right if you keep moving around like a child."
Oreon winced slightly, not from the tape but from the throbbing lump on his head—courtesy of Sylvanie's fist. "I'm...I'm not fidgeting." He grumbled under his breath. "It...It just hurts, that's all..." A small tear was visible, threatening to form.
Celestia couldn't help but release a soft laugh she'd been holding back, covering her mouth with her hand. "I'm sorry, Oreon, but...you really should have known better than to provoke her like that." Her eyes were full of amusement as if this was just nothing but a simple, normal occurrence between them. "Sylvanie has always been...sensitive about certain things.
"Sensitive?" Sylvanie snapped, her eyes flashing open as she glared at her sister. "He called me demonic! As if I'm some monster that—"
"You did hit him hard enough to leave a lump the size of an egg." Celestia pointed out gently, trying to mediate. "Perhaps...perhaps the reaction was a bit much?
"Yeah, it definitely, wait a minute—" Oreon blinked a few times as Silas adjusted his arms up, grumbling as he did. "Did you just say my name?" He asked as he looked over at Celestia.
Celestia paused, her eyes widening slightly as she realized what she'd just done. "I...I suppose I did, didn't I?" A faint blush crept across her cheeks as she glanced away, suddenly finding the fabrics draped endlessly in the small space interesting. "It just...slipped out."
Sylvanie's expression shifted from anger to surprise, her eyes darting between her sister and Oreon. "Well, well..." A mischievous smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Huh, look at that. I don't think I ever heard my sister call a human by their first name before...Hmmm." She peered at her, smirk still on her face. "Is my sister warming up to the insufferable human? Only after one day?"
Celestia's cheeks turned even pinker against her fair skin, her composure momentarily faltering. "I—That's not—" She stammered, her hands clasping together in front of her as she tried to regain her usual stance of grace. "I simply...It would be rude to keep referring to him as 'you' or 'human' when he has a name, wouldn't it?" She cleared her throat softly, her gaze shifting away from both Oreon and Sylvanie. "It's merely a matter of...common courtesy."
"Uh-huh," Sylvanie drawled, her smirk widening as she leaned against the wall, clearly enjoying her sister's discomfort. "Common courtesy. Right. The blasphemy that comes from your mouth when you're embarrassed is always entertaining. You've never said a human's first name before, maybe the last name to keep up your image, but never their first. Tell me something, sister, is this human an exception to the rule?"
"Sylvanie!" Celestia called out.
"Ah, a young man and his wives," Silas spoke, stripping back the measuring tape, standing up straight. "Some people get all the luck."
The room fell into an immediate, deafening silence.
"W—WIVES?!" Both Celestia and Sylvanie exclaimed in unison, their voices echoing through the cramped shop.
Oreon's face turned bright red as he nearly stumbled forward, his arms still held out awkwardly. "N-No, no, no!" That's not—We're not--!' He stammered, looking between Silas and the two Elven sisters in pure panic.
Silas blinked, adjusting his spectacles as he looked at the three of them and shrugged his shoulders. "You three act like you've been married for years, bickering back and forth and such. Arms down, boy. Stop moving!" He stretched the tape around Oreon once again.
Sylvanie's face had gone from pale to a vibrant shade of crimson that rivaled even Oreon's embarrassment. "M-Married?! To him?!" She gestured widely at Oreon, her voice rising an octave. I'd rather marry a goblin! At least they're honest in how detestable they are!"
"Sylvanie!" Celestia gasped, though her own face was burning with mortification. She pressed her hands against her cheeks, trying desperately to cool them down. "That's—That's completely inappropriate! We are not—This is not—" She couldn't seem to finish a single sentence, her usual composure completely shattered.
Oreon wanted to disappear into the floor. "Silas, please..." He groaned, his voice strained. "Can we just...finish the measurements and move on?"
"Almost done, boy," Silas muttered, completely unbothered by the chaos he'd just created. He moved the tape down to measure Oreon's waist, scribbling more notes. "Though I must say, if you three aren't married, you certainly act like it. The bickering, the familiarity..." He glanced up over his spectacles. "Reminds me of my own marriage, rest her soul."
'WE ARE NOT MARRIED!" All three of them shouted in unison this time.
Time passed, and a montage of Silas measuring Celestia next could be seen. She followed directions to the T, showing that being measured for outfits was nothing new to her. Sylvanie, however, struggled just as much as Oreon did. Trying to restrain herself every time Silas would have to start over, every time she moved.
By the time Silas would finish, it would be midday. The sun was shining brightly above the sky as it hovered over the town.
"Alright, it took longer than it needed to with all that fuss you all put up, but I think I have something in mind for all three of you. After all, Meara did make it clear that you all need more than one set of clothing. Come back to my shop before sunset, and I'll have a few things ready for you."
"Thanks, Silas," Oreon rubbed the back of his neck as they stepped out of the shop and into the afternoon sun. "You really didn't have to do this, it's really appreciated. We'll be back before sunset."
"Well, now, you have Meara to thank for that after all. That's an old bull you don't want to make mad." He chuckled but calmly settled down, giving Oreon a serious look. "I don't know the nature of your situation, nor do I care. But for Meara's sake, stay out of trouble." He looked over at the two elves, who were unaware of the conversation. "You walk with two elves, boy. That means you're going to have eyes on you everywhere you go."
Oreon's expression sobered, the weight of Silas's words settling over him as he glanced back at Celestia and Sylvanie, who were standing a few paces away, seemingly absorbed in their own quiet conversation, and slightly overcoming the previous embarrassment of being called 'wives'—Celestia speaking softly, while Sylvanie placed her arms on her hip in a defiant posture.
"I know..." Oreon took a deep breath. "Believe me...I know, I'll be careful. If not, Meara won't stop yelling at me."
Silas let out a dry chuckle at that, shaking his head. "That woman got a voice that could wake the dead when she's angry. You'd best not give her a reason to use it." He paused, his expression softening just slightly. "But she cares, boy. Doesn't show it often, but she does. So whatever mess you've gotten yourself into..." He glanced once more at the two Elven sisters. "...Make sure it's worth the trouble."
Oreon nodded slowly, his jaw tightening. "It is..."
"Good." Silas adjusted his spectacles, then turned back toward his shop. "Remember, before sunset. Don't be late." With that, he disappeared inside, the door closing with a soft creak.
Oreon stood there for a moment, the weight of Silas's words settled over him before he let out a deep breath and made his way back towards Celestia and Sylvanie. "Pretty sure the town knows they're here by now." He thought to himself.
As Oreon caught up, Sylvanie let out a long, exasperated breath. "Finally..." She stretched her arms above her head, her joints popping audibly. "I thought we'd never get out of there." She added as she stretched her lower back. "That old man was in there taking his sweet time, telling me that I was moving around too much." She turned her head to the side like a spoiled child. "He's lucky I didn't slice up everything that was in there."
Celestia let out a soft sigh. "You did move around quite a bit, Sylvanie. More that necessary, if I'm being honest." She adjusted a strand of her pale blonde hair that had fallen across her face, tucking it behind her pointed ear. "That man was only trying to do his job."
"His job involved getting way too comfortable getting close to me," Sylvanie shot back, crossing her arms defensively. "I don't care how old he is or how 'professional' he claims to be. Having some human's hands all over me while he grumbles about whatever doesn't sit right with me..." She trailed off, a body giving a light shudder as she thought about Silas's hands touching her while talking about measurements and proportions.
Oreon couldn't help but smirk slightly despite himself. "You know, for someone who acts so tough and fearless, you sure get flustered easily when it comes to—"
"Finish that sentence, human, and I'll give you another lump to match the first one," Sylvanie interrupted sharply.
Oreon raised his hands slightly in front of him. "Alright, alright! I'm just saying..."
"Well, don't." Sylvanie turned away from him with a huff.
Celestia stepped between them gently, her expression patient as always. "Let's not start another argument in the middle of the street," She suggested softly. "We've already drawn enough attention as it is." Her gaze scanned their surroundings—several townsfolk had indeed paused in their daily routines to stare at the unusual trio.
Some whispered behind their hands; others gawked openly at the two elven women walking alongside a young human man.
"Great," Oreon sighed. "It's like some of them have never seen a non-human before; they did the same thing last week when a Werebeast came through here," Oreon grumbled as he sighed and began to walk forward. "Come on, let's go take a look at some of the shops and kill some time. Some people here do have manners." Oreon mumbled under his breath.
Celestia followed closely behind Oreon, her posture remaining graceful despite the stares. She kept her gaze forward, refusing to acknowledge the whispers that followed them. "It's...understandable." She said quietly, talking loud enough for only them to hear. "Elves are not common in human settlements, especially not...especially not in our current circumstances." She stated. "It's as you said before in the forest, common humans normally don't lay eyes on an elf, let alone a noble one."
Oreon glanced back at Celestia and gave her a slight nod.
"All I know is if they're so curious, I can give them something to stare at." Sylvanie lightly threatened.
"Sylvanie, please," Celestia spoke. "We're trying not to draw more attention, remember?"
"I know, I know..." Sylvanie muttered, though her eyes still flickered with irritation as she caught another townsperson gaping at them. "But it's really starting to piss me off. I feel like some kind of...I don't know, a freak with four heads or something."
"Just try to ignore them, not everyone here cares about who walks around so long as they don't cause trouble," Oreon responded.
"Easy for you to say," Sylvanie scoffed. "You're not the one being gawked at like some stupid performance act."
'Actually—" Oreon gestured vaguely around them. "—I kind of am. Half these people are probably wondering what in the world I'm doing walking around with two elves. The other half are probably thinking I've lost my mind." He paused, then added with a slight smirk. "And honestly? They might not be wrong about that last part."
Despite herself, Sylvanie's lips twitched—almost forming a smile before she caught herself and schooled her expression back into annoyance.
Celestia, walking on Oreon's other side, glanced at him. "Thank you," she said softly. "For...trying to make this easy for us."
"Don't mention it," Oreon replied before taking a few steps in front of the two sisters, turning around to face them. "Besides, I know a spot in town where nobody will judge us, no matter how we look, and it's a great spot to eat and shop." He smiled wildly with a bit of theatrics, leaving both Sylvanie and Celestia to blink a few times as they looked at him and then slightly turn their heads toward each other.
"Come on!" Oreon reached forward, grabbed both elves by the wrist, and pulled them forward to follow behind them, causing them to give a loud yelp in response.
The sudden pull caught both sisters completely off guard.
"W-Wait—!" Celestia stammered, her cheeks flushing as she stumbled forward, nearly losing her balance before catching herself. Her hand was warm in Oreon's grip, and she could feel her pulse quickening—not from exertion, but from unexpected contact.
"H—Hey! Let go of me, you-!" Sylvanie protested; she tugged halfheartedly at his grip, her eyes wide in surprise. "I can walk on my own, you know!"
But Oreon didn't let go. Instead, he kept moving forward with purpose, weaving through the crowd with an energy that was almost infectious. "Come on, you two! Trust me, it'll be worth it!"
Celestia glanced down at their joined hands, then over at her sister, who was also staring at where Oreon held her wrist. For a brief moment, their eyes met, and an unspoken understanding passed between them.
This is—Strange
It didn't take long for Oreon to drag the elves into a small pocket of the town that was surrounded by stalls full of food and merchandise. Finally, releasing their hands, Oreon gestured towards the marketplace that appeared on a small dock at the end of the town. People are fishing, laughing, eating, and shopping.
"Welcome to the docks!" Oreon announced with a grin, spreading his arms wide as if presenting them with some grand treasure. It's not much, but it's probably the most relaxed spot in the entire town." Oreon stepped aside, almost like inviting them into a new space in time as he gestured toward one of the food stalls where a large woman was flipping skewers of meat over an open flame. "That's Gretta's place—best grilled fish and meat skewers you'll ever taste. And over there—" He pointed to another stall piled high with colorful fruits and vegetables. "—That's old man Torvin's produce stand. He's always grumpy as hell, but his stuff is always fresh. Oh, and over there is an antique shop," Oreon pointed. "You know, for like, harmless artifacts and stuff."
Celestia's eyes widened at the scene before her. The docks were alive with activity—fisherman hauling in their catches, children running between stalls, merchants calling out their wares. The smell of grilled fish teased her nostrils.
"It's lively," she said softly, genuinely surprised. "I didn't expect something like this in a human town.
Sylvanie, however, was less impressed—at least outwardly. She crossed her arms and glanced around with a critical eye, though there was a flicker of curiosity in her gaze as well. "It's crowded," She muttered. "And loud."
"That's how a marketplace is supposed to be." Oreon placed both of his hands on his hips. "Don't tell me you guys don't have a marketplace where you're from." He added.
Celestia's expression softened, a hint of melancholy crossing her features. "We did...Back in..." She looked around as if to make sure she kept her voice low enough for only Oreon and her sister to hear. "We did back in Vel'Andria." She continued, her eyes still taking in the scene in front of her. "Though ours was...different. More structured, I suppose. Everything had its place, its order." She gestured vaguely at the chaotic energy around them. "This is...well, it's certainly more spontaneous."
Sylvanie's gaze continued to sweep across the docks with more interest than she was willing to admit. "Our markets were held in the grand plaza in the grand hall." She said, keeping her voice low just like her sister, but casual. "Merchants would set up stalls made of living wood that grew from the ground itself. Everything was...elegant. Refined." She wrinkled her nose slightly. "This is just a mess."
"Mess?" Oreon raised an eyebrow, clearly faking offense. "I'll have you know that this 'mess' is what makes it authentic! No stuffy rules, no pretentious—" He caught himself, realizing he might be insulting them and their homeland."—I mean, uh...different doesn't mean worse, right?"
Celestia smiled gently at his awkward recovery. "No, you're right. Different isn't worse." She took a few steps forward, her gaze drawn to a stall where colorful fabrics were being sold. "It just...new. And new can be...good."
Sylvanie made a noncommittal sound, though her eyes had already locked onto something else—a weapons merchant displaying daggers and short swords on a worn wooden table. Despite her best efforts to appear disinterested, she found herself drifting toward it.
"See?" Oreon grinned, noticing Sylvanie's wandering attention, but something also sparked his interest as he saw the weapon stall, a sword specifically, before he glanced over at Celestia, then a small flashback came back to mind when they fought the decaying corrupted elf Rot, where Celestia used a sword, her light magic surrounding the blade.
"Hey," He spoke calmly, a slightly serious but curious tone. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you. When we fought Rot, you used that sword to help cut him down. Do you use weapons like your sister, or..." Oreon tilted his head slightly.
Celestia paused mid-step, her attention pulled away from the fabric stall. She turned to face Oreon, her expression thoughtful as she considered his question.
"I—"
Sylvanie quickly snapped her head back as soon as she heard the question. "Are you kidding me!" She exclaimed, pointing at her sister. "Celestia was the best swordswoman in the kingdom; she was a lot better than me when they tried to get me to use one." She crossed her arms.
"Is that why you use a scythe?" Oreon questioned as the three began calmly walking, but making sure to keep their voices low and casual.
Sylvanie nodded, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of pride and irritation. "Yeah. Swords never felt right in my hands—too rigid, too...predictable." She made a slicing motion through the air with her hand. "A scythe, though? That's got reach, unpredictability...And it just looks cooler when you're cutting someone down." She grinned wickedly, causing Oreon to take two steps away from and closer to Celestia.
Celestia sighed softly as the group passed by a stall that sold jewelry, as the owner tried to get their attention, but they were too engrossed in their conversation.
"Sylvanie has always preferred weapons that matched her...creative personality." She glanced at Oreon. "As for me, I was trained in swordsmanship from a young age. It was expected of me as the heir." She recalled as she continued to explain. "Our father believed that a ruler should be able to defend their people personally if necessary—not just command from afar."
"And she took to it like a fish to water," Sylvanie added. "While I was busy blowing things up with dark magic and getting yelled at for being 'reckless,' Miss Perfect over her was mastering every sword form known to elvenkind."
"I wasn't perfect," Celestia corrected gently, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "I just...practiced more than you did."
"Because you actually enjoyed it," Sylvanie shot back with a smirk. "I saw you sparring—you get this look in your eyes, all focused and intense." She mimicked an exaggerated, serious expression. "Like nothing else mattered except the blade in your hand, whoever you were fighting."
Celestia's blush deepened slightly, and she looked away. "It was...meditative. When I held a sword, everything else faded away—the politics, the expectations, the weight of responsibility..." She trailed off for a moment.
"So, why'd you stop?" Oreon asked her, the trio stopping in front of Gretta's stall, waiting in line to grab a bite. "Even back when in the dungeon, you didn't steal a sword like your sister, you just used your magic. How come?"
The blond-haired elf's expression softened as her eyes fell to the ground. "I—I wanted to...using my magic is the best way to ensure that casualties are kept minimal, and...I don't feel like I'm on a battlefield."
Oreon's eyebrow rose slightly.
"She didn't want to be on the front lines of war anymore, and that was before the Order invaded," Sylvanie explained. "
"I simply did not wish to be known as another warrior queen," Celestia stated as the trio took a few steps forward in line. "Using light magic allowed me to protect without always having to..." Celestia trailed off again, then took a breath. "I could heal; I could shield. I could purify corruption without taking a life." Her eyes finally lifted to meet Oreon's." After years of training, after countless sparring matches where I excelled and the Elven wars where I..." She paused for a second. "I wanted to be more than someone who could take down enemies efficiently."
"Even though you were damn good at it," Sylvanie added quietly, a hint of respect in her voice."
Celestia nodded as Oreon was next in line to grab a plate for everyone. "I get it, you use your magic instead, so you can stay true to who you want to be," Oreon said, getting ready to step up with one person left between them.
"Exactly," Celestia replied. "Though..." She hesitated, glancing down at her hands. "When we fought Rot. I had no choice. My magic was nearly drained, and he was too far gone to be saved, if we had waited a bit longer...I'm afraid none of us would be standing here today."
"Yeah, he was something else," Oreon said as a bell rang and the person who was in front of the trio ordered and moved out of the way.
Gretta—a broad-shouldered woman with flour-dusted arms and a no-nonsense expression—looked up from her grill. "Well, slap me with my own skewers and call me surprised—if it ain't Oreon!" Gretta boomed, her gravelly voice carrying over the marketplace. She wiped her hands on her apron and leaned forward, her orange hair pushed back in a bushy ponytail, her yellow eyes squinting at him. "Haven't seen your scrawny ass around here in ages! Thought maybe you'd finally gotten yourself killed on one of those fool errands you run."
Oreon grinned sheepishly. "Still alive and kicking, Gretta. Just been...Busy."
"Busy, he says." Gretta snorted, then her sharp eyes shifted to Celestia and Sylvanie. Her expression changed slightly. "Well, now..." She straightened up, crossing her arms over her ample chest. "You brought company. And not just any company—elves." She let out a low whistle. "Fancy ones too, by the looks of it." She leaned over a bit. "So, tell me, how'd you two get roped in with this idiot?" She playfully ruffled his hair as she palmed his head.
"Idiot?!" Oreon exclaimed back comically.
Celestia hesitated, opening her mouth to reply, but didn't know how.
"He found us in the Order's dungeon and broke us out, stole something from them to." She said with crossed arms, not really caring or understanding how blunt or how she failed at being discreet, causing both Celestia and Oreon's jaws to hang open and their eyes inflating to the size of saucers.
"Sy—Sylvanie!" Celestia gasped.
"What the hell is wrong with you, crazy elf?!" Oreon spat.
Sylvanie whirled around to glare at Oreon. "What the hell was I supposed to say?! I just told the truth, human!" Sylvanie argued as Celestia, whose face had turned red from embarrassment, tried to contain herself at the thought of what her sister had just done.
Gretta, however, eyes went wide—comically so—and for a moment, the entire marketplace seemed to hold its breath. Even the sizzling of meat on her grill seemed to quiet, until...
She burst out laughing.
"BAHAHAHAHA!" Gretta slapped her thigh hard enough that it echoed. "Oh, gods above and below—you broke into the Order's dungeon?!" She pointed at Oreon with one thick finger, tears forming at the corners of her eyes from laughing so hard. "You! Boy! I always knew something was special about you!" She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.
"Gretta," Oreon's face flushed red as his head snapped from left and right to make sure nobody overheard. "Keep your voice down! Geez!"
Gretta waved him off dismissively, though she did lower her voice—just a little.
"Relax, boy. Half the folks 'round here can't stand the Order anyway." She leaned in closer; her grin still plastered across her face. "Besides, anyone who's got the stones to break into their dungeons and walk out alive? That's someone worth feedin' for free."
"Free?" Oreon blinked, straightening up.
"You heard me." Gretta turned back to her grill, grabbing three wooden plates and piling them high with skewered meat and grilled fish. "Consider it a thank-you for makin' my day. Haven't laughed that hard in months." She glanced over her shoulder at the trio, but more at Oreon. "So, boy, the usual?"
Oreon's tension eased slightly as he exhaled in relief. "Yeah...the usual sounds good."
Gretta nodded with satisfaction and began piling food onto three plates—skewers of grilled fish glistening with herbs, chunks of seasoned meat that smelled divine, and some roasted vegetables on the side.
Celestia watched the exchange with wide eyes, still processing what had just happened. "I—I apologize for my sister's...bluntness," she said softly to Gretta. "She sometimes speaks without thinking through the consequences."
"Hey!" Sylvanie protested.
Gretta laughed again, though it was quieter this time. "Don't you worry none, sweetheart. I like people who speak their minds." She handed the first plate to Celestia, then the second to Sylvanie. "Besides, if what your sister says is true—and I got no reason to doubt it—then you three have more guts than most folk around here combined." Her expression softened just slightly as she handed the third plate to Oreon. "The Order's been tightening its grip on every town they come across. Taking what they want, when they wait it..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "Anyone who stands up to 'em? Well...that's something worth respecting."
Oreon accepted his plate with a grateful nod. "Thanks—"
"Feeding knife ears now, Gretta...First Meara and now you." A voice called out from behind Oreon, making him stop reaching for the meat on his plate.
Gretta's eyes narrowed slightly at the voice as she lifted her head up to see Grog walking with four other guys behind him.
"Not something I would expect from you, or is it because little Oreon's back and you haven't seen him in a while?" Grog taunted as he made his way towards Oreon, standing behind him. "You're going to pay for that little stunt you pulled back at the Tavern yesterday, kid, and now that old woman Meara isn't here to save you this time." He threatened as Oreon glanced back at him for a moment before returning to his plate.
"Grog, don't...I just want to eat." Oreon spoke calmly.
Grog's grin widened, his yellowed teeth showing as he took another step closer, looming over Oreon's shoulder. "Oh, you want to eat? That's real cute, boy. After you embarrassed me in front of half the tavern yesterday." He reached out and flicked the back of Oreon's head—not hard, but enough to be disrespectful. "Maybe I'll let you ear…after you get on your hands and knees and apologize for disrespecting me like you did."
Oreon's jaw tightened, his hands squeezing the wooden plate tightly. He didn't turn around—didn't give Grog the satisfaction. "I'm not doing that," he said quietly, his voice steady. "I already told you—I just want to eat, so just leave us alone."
Grog's expression darkened. "Us?" He glanced at Celestia and Sylvanie, his eyes lingering a bit too long on them both. "Oh, I see how it is now. Got yourself some pretty little knife-ears to hide behind?"
Grog's expression darkened. "Us?" He glanced at Celestia and Sylvanie, his eyes lingering a bit too long on them both. "Oh, I see how it is now. Got yourself some pretty little knife-ears to hide behind?" He sneered, then looked back at his crew, who chuckled on cue. "What, you think having a couple of elven whores at your side makes you tough?
Sylvanie's eyes quickly narrowed as she gritted her teeth, nearly leaping out of her seat. "What the hell did you just call us?" She growled venomously.
Celestia placed a gentle hand on her sister's arm, her expression calm and unreadable. "Sylvanie…not here."
"Listen to your friend, knife-ears," Grog said mockingly, stepping even closer to Oreon now. "Wouldn't want things to get messy in front of all these nice people, now, would we?" He reached out again—this time grabbing Oreon by the shoulder and spinning him around forcefully.
Oreon stumbled slightly but caught himself, his plate still in hand. His hazel eyes met Grog's bloodshot ones, and for a moment, there was silence.
"Let go," Oreon said quietly.
"Or what?" Grog tightened his grip, his breath reeking of cheap ale. "You gonna do something about it, boy?" He shoved Oreon back slightly—this time causing Oreon to drop his plate as Grog made another step forward, smirking down at him with a sick grin.