“Is this the place?”
Standing outside a weathered building, Elric's voice barely rose above a whisper as he surveyed the sign above the entrance.
The Siren’s Tankard.
Having arrived in Gorn just an hour prior, Elric asked around for where he could commission a carriage coachman and was directed to check at this tavern. A faint scent of ale and cooking wafted from within, mingling with the crisp night air. Adjusting his grip on his belongings, Elric pushed open the heavy door and stepped into the warmth of the tavern.
The interior was brightly lit and filled with the loud chatter of patrons.
‘How am I supposed to find a coachman in this place?’ thought Elric as he settled at an empty table tucked away in a corner. ‘I don’t have time. I have to leave tonight.’ Lost in thought, he failed to notice the attention he had attracted from Gorn’s most infamous drunk, Sten Orvik.
‘Hah? Look at this kid. I’ve seen orphans in finer garb. Bet he's one of those neric scum! Always lurking about, poisoning our village!’
Swaying in his drunken stupor, Sten staggered toward Elric's table.
“Hey kid! You’re not a local, are ya?!”
Elric tensed, his hand subtly inching towards his spear after sensing hostility.
"Why aren’t ya answering?" demanded Sten as he seized Elric by the collar. "You're one of 'em nerics, ain't ya?! Damn vermin! You lot are supposed to live in hiding and do our bidding! Guess I oughta be the one to take care of ya...”
Sten's breath reeked of cheap beer, and his words slurred as he leaned in closer to Elric. As his grip tightened on Elric’s shirt, his hands became enveloped in a menacing blue energy.
‘Is that aura?! This drunkard really plans to kill me!’ Elric’s fingers soon clenched around the familiar weight of his spear. The tavern continued to buzz with loud noise, offering no easy exit, especially with Sten’s imposing figure obstructing his escape. ‘Well, I have a chance at least,’ resolved Elric. ‘His aura is nothing compared to Leonard’s.’
As Sten advanced, his fist raised, the blue aura surrounding it only growing denser.
Elric observed Sten’s stance. 'He’s aiming for my chest. The moment he lets his guard down, I’ll strike.'
In a swift motion, Sten's fist descended. Just as Elric prepared to counter, a passing patron accidentally brushed shoulders with Sten, jostling him off balance. His grip on Elric's collar loosened as he struggled to regain his footing. It was a fleeting opportunity, but Elric seized it, breaking free from Sten's grasp and having his spear poised defensively.
“Oh, excuse me—Hmm? Elric?”
The passerby who inadvertently aided Elric was now looking at him with a familiar gaze. Elric’s brows furrowed in confusion before recognition gleamed across his face.
“Fenril?!”
Fenril flashed a grin, his eyes assessing the situation before flickering with concern. "I see you’ve gotten involved with Sten.”
Elric felt a surge of relief and surprise as he recognized Fenril. He was the coachman who had initially brought Mr. Linus to Vailee and had also been taking his parents to and from the capital.
“It’s good to see you, Fenril.”
Meanwhile, Sten regained his balance, his drunken rage intensifying as he realized he was facing not one but two outsiders. "You! Stay outta this, Fenril! This is between me and the neric!"
Elric once again prepared to strike, but Fenril halted him. “Come on, Sten! I know I’m not a Gorn native, but I thought we’d grown a little closer over the years. Besides, this kid isn’t a neric.” Fenril placed his hands on Elric’s shoulders. “His parents work in the royal palace! As if a neric could ever get a job in the capital, nevermind the palace. Haha.”
Capital? After hearing that, Sten dismissed any thoughts about Elric being a neric. “He should’ve just said that,” he muttered as he staggered away.
Fenril turned to Elric with a reassuring smile. “Let’s talk outside.”
*
Fenril’s carriage was a quaint but sturdy affair, its wooden frame worn from years of use but still bearing an air of reliability.
“So, you need a ride to the capital.”
Fenril spoke with a calm voice as he leaned against his carriage.
Elric nodded. “Yes, it’s urgent.”
“I figured as much,” replied Fenril as he nodded thoughtfully. “I was at the capital a couple weeks ago and was surprised your parents hadn't reached out to me to bring them back to Vailee. It must be very urgent.”
“I’m more surprised that you were able to recognize me; it’s been six years.”
Fenril chuckled. “How could someone forget those purple eyes of yours?”
“Ah, true.”
Fenril chuckled once again and tousled Elric’s hair. “Don't worry. I’ll take you.”
Elric smiled gratefully. “Thank you. The fare is 2 bronze coins, right?” He displayed the coins from his pouch in the palm of his hand.
“Yeah, but don’t worry about it. I’ll take you for free. I was already heading in that direction anyway.”
“Free? Are you sure?”
“Yes, let’s call it my atonement.”
“...?”
As the two settled into the front seat of the carriage, Fenril let out a sigh.
His kindness was nothing but a response to the desperation he saw on Elric's face. Years ago, when Elric's parents joined Lord Carlisle's journey to the capital, Fenril initially refused to transport them, only relenting when Lord Carlisle offered more money. His views on nerics had been as extreme as a drunken Sten's, but he eventually proved more compassionate than he realized. Desperation. That was what the Sinclair couple expressed as they endured Fenril's onslaught of harsh insults. Over time, it wasn't Elia or Maurim who changed, but Fenril himself. He gradually succumbed to the persistent call of empathy and grew close to the couple.
‘You've come a long way, Fenril,’ he thought to himself.
With a gentle flick of the reins, the carriage horse moved forward into the night.
* * *
The next day.
With his arms clasped behind his back, Leonard gazed down at the forest his father had nearly decimated. He slowly began to extend his right hand, but a hard knock interrupted him, followed by a voice.
“Young master.”
“Come in.”
Bailey opened the door to Leonard's room and found him staring out of the window with his back turned.
“I’ve come to report.”
“...”
“Elri– I mean, your toy has indeed left Vailee.”
“Is that all?”
“...Yes.”
Leonard sighed, finally turning away from the window.
“What do you think, Bailey? Should I burn down his village due to his impertinence?”
Bailey hesitated, well aware of Leonard's penchant for unpredictability. "I doubt such action would yield any significant benefits, young master."
Leonard frowned. What a boring reaction. He then approached his desk, casting a cold glance at Bailey. “It was a joke.”
“Forgive this ignorant servant!”
“...”
“Just leave,” Leonard dismissed with a scoff.
With a slight bow, Bailey exited the room.
“Everything’s so boring. When will you return, Elric? A week? A month?”
Leonard picked up a deck of cards from his desk and shuffled them in his hands.
“A toy’s job is to be entertaining. Don’t disappoint me.”
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