In the dimly lit stairway, the walls pressed in on the trio as they ascended. The narrow path barely gave them room to move without their arms grazing the cold, rough stone walls on
Upon reaching the end of the stairs, a door emerged. Pushing it open, they stepped into a corridor leading to a lively pub filled with raucous laughter and clinking glasses.
Ras gestured toward the busy seating area with a sweeping hand. All the wooden tables were filled with patrons, some deep in conversation, others more interested in their drinks. Belmont and Henry exchanged perplexed glances, confusion deepening in their eyes.
“What's the meaning of this, Ras? Why are we in the pub?” Henry questioned, his voice echoing a tinge of impatience.
“Over there, in the corner,” Ras murmured, nodding toward a dimly lit corner where three hooded figures were seated, their faces hidden. The palpable tension between them and the other patrons does not go unnoticed by the keen-eyed duo.
When a sudden tumult ensued, Henry opened his mouth to question Ras further about the mysterious trio. One of the patrons, possibly intoxicated, clumsily splashed his drink over
Chaos quickly ensued as more patrons joined the fray. The room became a cacophony of shouts and shoves, with chairs poised to become makeshift weapons. Henry lept into action, trying to separate the warring parties physically. "Cease this at once!" he
Belmont smirked, shaking his head in amused exasperation. “Forever the gallant knight,” he murmured to Ras before stepping in. His entrance was like a storm, impossible to ignore.
“Is this the honor of Aeloria's men?”
Belmont approached the cloaked figures, causing the other rowdy men to retreat.
“What, pray tell,
“It's these cursed Zoltecayans!” the pinned man spat out venomously.
Belmont raised a hand, silencing further accusations, and looked at the hooded trio. Sensing the authority Belmont held in the room, the hooded figure still seated quickly exchanged a few words in an unfamiliar language with the two men standing, and they released their grip.
“Everyone, resume your revelry. One round for everyone,” Belmont declared magnanimously, adding with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “And put it on Sir Henry's tab.”
The entire room erupted in subdued laughter and chatter, the tension dissipating, all while Henry shot Belmont an exasperated look, a hint of amusement shimmering beneath his faux indignation.
As Belmont turned his attention back to the table occupied by the hooded trio, a perplexing curiosity swelled within him. Their hoods created an unnatural darkness over their faces. What are those hoods made of? Belmont
Ras, ever the impulsive one, rushed forward. “Oh dear, your hood is all drenched. That’s unfortunate. Allow us to offer a small token of apology for the unfortunate events of the evening,” he chimed in with an exaggerated sweetness in his voice.
Before Belmont could react, Ras, in one swift motion, removed Belmont’s cloak and offered it to the drenched figure.
Damn you, Ras, but now it’s too late to reclaim the cloak without seeming rude.
“Indeed, please accept it,” Belmont forced out, his voice tight with restrained irritation.
The hooded figure's slender fingers, adorned with vibrant, intricate bracelets, reached out gracefully to accept the offer. With a gentle motion, she untied her hood, revealing herself. Belmont's breath caught in his throat as a cascade of dark hair, woven with ribbons and falling in a mesmerizing braid, framed a stunning face. Her tan skin contrasted beautifully with large, enigmatic eyes that seemed to mirror the night. She was clad in a soft blue top, its material
With a nod of gratitude, she draped Belmont’s cloak over her shoulders, pulling the hood over her head. The two companions by her side murmured in a mysterious language and, with a last glance, exited.
With a wave and an almost cheeky smile, Ras said, “Do
As the door closed behind them, murmurs spread across the pub. “Good riddance,” grumbled the man who had initiated the altercation earlier. Several patrons grunted in agreement.
Beckoning Belmont and Henry, Ras led them back toward the concealed entrance. Belmont, unable to contain his irritation, gave Ras a light smack on the back of his head as they stepped into the dimly lit corridor.
“Ow, my bump!” Ras exclaimed, rubbing the spot.
“Why my cloak, Ras?” Belmont snapped, his frustration evident.
Before Ras could explain, Henry interjected, “Did you
Nodding eagerly, Ras confirmed, “Exactly what I was trying to show you.”
Belmont pondered for a moment. "There are similarities," he conceded. "But the girl by the river wasn't draped in such finery."
"True," Henry mused, "but their attire had a similar quality."
"That drunk man mentioned they were Zoltecayans. When exactly did they arrive in Aeloria?" Belmont turned towards Ras as he opened the hidden door leading down to the chamber, his fingers tracing the worn edges of the entrance.
"They appeared two days ago, scattered across the shoreline beneath the Elysarra Forest. Their state was pitiable – grasping onto lifeboats and other remnants of their ship. They must have been caught in a brutal storm."
Belmont’s brow furrowed as his thoughts raced to piece together any knowledge he held about the distant land of Zoltecaya. It was a realm whispered about in legends; tales spoke of their resplendent cities gleaming in gold. Yet, it lay so far across the vast ocean that few dared to journey there. Those who ventured and returned did so as changed men, murmuring of wondrous treasures,
Henry's voice breaks through Belmont’s musings. "The Zoltecayans rarely venture from their homeland. The last time they were on our shores, was over 500 years ago. What possibly prompted such an unexpected voyage?"
Ras sighed, his eyes showing a hint of worry. "That is the mystery. Their sudden appearance has raised many eyebrows."
"Regardless of their reasons, our immediate concern is detecting this energy disturbance. I'll brief my brother on the Zoltecayans later." Belmont stated resolutely upon reentering the secret chamber. He
"Seems the old mage hasn't made any new progress," Belmont remarked, peering at the unmarked map.
Suddenly, three distinct knocks echoed, prompting Ras to hurry to the door.
"Ah, that should be Jansen and Eliot back from Elysarra," he said as he peered through the tiny slit in the door before methodically undoing the series of locks. Two figures entered as the door creaked open: one with golden locks cascading down to his waist and the other with light brown hair cropped close.
Henry, always one to prioritize information, spent little time. "Report. What have you discovered?"
Jansen, the taller one
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