The two made it to Diremore by the time the sun had just crept past the center of the sky. The heat was nauseating, and both men were thankful for the canopies copious business owners had erected around the town’s square. Much to his delight, Cabre discarded the blue overcoat that had been covered in slime from his encounter with the cave creature. His bag and shirt sleeves however would just have to deal with it. It wasn’t worth wasting the water to try and clean them and if he wanted to survive in the desert, he couldn’t just discard them.
“We don’t need to stay here long, do we?” Levy asked, glancing over to Cabre as he leaned against the back of the bench they’d found.
Cabre grumbled, doubled over with his head in his head.
“You really wanna go back out in that sun so soon?” He protested.
Levy closed his eyes and rolled his head back and forth.
“Not particularly, but we really should get going.”
Cabre huffed and stood, drinking what was left in his canteen. Levy fished around his bag, pulling out one of his waterskins. His second one was still full, but it would be a good idea to fill this one back up before leaving.
“We’ll stop by a few shops and then we’ll head out. How’s that sound?” He reasoned, tiredly lifting his torso upright.
“Leaving before the Town Fest?”
Both men’s eyes widened as a man with bright cheery blue eyes, wild brown locks, and a shocked expression stopped in front of them. His hands were on his hips, as if ready to scold the two. Levy lifted a brow.
“Town Fest?” He questioned.
The villager's eyes widened before he crouched down before them, furrowing his brows.
“You aren’t from ‘round here, are ya?” He asked, tone hushed.
Levy’s expression flattened.
“What gave it away?” He replied dryly.
Cabre smacked his companion firmly on the arm, casting a fierce glare his way.
“Don’t be so rude.” He chided.
Levy rolled his eyes while Cabre turned back to the villager. His eyes were sparkling with interest, curious as to what the person had to say.
“What’s this Town Fest?” Cabre prompted.
From a satchel draped over his shoulder, the excited man pulled out a flyer handing it to the pair. It was a rather plain piece of paper, but across the top, it read ‘DIREMORE TOWN FEST’ followed by a few depictions of various events. There looked to be a knife-throwing competition, sharp shooting, and food decorating of some sort. Along the bottom, it read ‘Come for prizes, festivities, decorations, and more!’. Levy peered over as Cabre took the flyer, looking it over. A renewed spark lit in Cabre’s eyes as he looked over to Levy, hopeful.
“No.” He said flatly. “We need to keep moving.”
Cabre’s face fell and look cast a glance to the villager, as if pleading for help.
“It’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience.” He said quickly.
Levy raised a questioning brow and the villager's face fell.
“It’s an annual event.” He admitted before turning to walk away.
“Wait!” Cabre bolted out of the bench, gently grabbing the man's arm before he could get too far. “What are the prizes the flyer talks about.”
The villager shrugged.
“Depends really. Some are just simple carnival games for kids. Others you can win some coin, though.” He added.
Cabre raised a brow and looked over to Levy, who seemed more interested now that money was involved. There was a moment's pause between the lot before Levy finally conceded.
“Alright, we’ll stay for this Town Fest thing.”
Cabre beamed as the villager gave a friendly smile, turning to walk away with a wave. “See you both there.”
Cabre turned, returning the wave and Levy stood.
“If we’re staying, we’d better find an inn.” Levy reasoned.
So the two headed off into the town, watching people pass by on their way to and from the market. Here and there, they stopped to watch the townsfolk set up for the night's later events. Kids ran around, desperate to find an outlet for their excitement. Banners were being hung around declaring the locations of events and signs were being posted to point people in the right directions. Though the town was small, with all the hustle and bustle about, it was hard to find anything.
“How do they find anything around here?” Levy grunted, having wound the two up in the same circle of town for the third time.
“Excuse me.” Cabre turned away from Levy, approaching a women outside a nearby shop.
She turned her head, taking a step off of her ladder as she lowered the banner in her hands.
“We were wondering if we could get some directions.” He smiled, kindly. “Where are the inns around here?”
Ignoring Levy’s low grumble under his breath, Cabre listened as the woman told him just where to go. Unfortunately, they only had one option. The inn closest to the town center was full for the festival while the one on the edge of town was still said to have some vacancies.
“You know you can ask for directions, right?” Cabre turned to Levy.
Levy rolled his eyes. “I had it under control.”
“Did you now?” Cabre raised his brows in disbelief.
Levy gave a huff, turning his head away as the two made their way to the far edge of town. Though it was a subtle change, the houses began to grow smaller and less tidy. A few sorry tents lay strewn about here and there. It certainly wasn’t the best part of town to be staying in, but it was their only option. Looking ahead, there was a rusty old sign that read ‘The Rusty Glass’. Boards covered what they assumed used to be places for windows and, to be honest, it was hard to tell if the place was habitable or not. As Levy gently pushed the door open, it made a horrendous creaking sound that felt as though it would echo throughout the entire town.
“Umm.. Hello?” Cabre asked, stepping into the old building first.
It was odd. Each step seemed to make a different sound as the floorboards shifted beneath the new weight. An old, short, plump woman appeared from around a doorway. She wore a simple dress and her grey hair frizzed out from beneath a sun hat.
“Hello dears, what can I do for you?” She smiled kindly.
Cabre approached while Levy lingered behind, inspecting the rickety shack that passed for an inn.
“Do you have any two-bed rooms available?” He asked.
The woman nodded a few times, moving behind a short counter. Behind the counter were a plethora of cubbies. Most of the cubbies held only a single slip of paper while a few still had keys inside.
“Two bedrooms coming right up.” She chimed.
“Wait!” Cabre cut in.
The woman stopped, her hands reaching for two separate keys.
“Sorry, but I meant one bedroom with two beds in it.” He corrected.
The woman gave a small smile and a nod, returning the key to its cubby before grabbing a stool from behind the counter. As she set it up, Levy approached, looking to Cabre.
“Why didn’t you just let her give us the two rooms?” He seemed confused.
Cabre shrugged. “One will be cheaper.” He reasoned.
Levy thought for a moment as the lady slid a single slip of paper and a pen onto the counter. For the moment, she kept the key in her grasp.
“That’ll be five coin.” She smiled.
At that, Levy pulled five coin from his pouch and leaned over to fill out the paperwork. Once he’d finished it, she slid the key to them and pulled the paperwork away, returning it to its cubby. She pointed them in the direction of their room and then they entered, it wasn’t quite as they expected. Sure, the walls weren’t in great condition but the furniture was nice considering the location and the lady even came by later to bring them a fresh basin of warm, soapy water. After washing his arm guards and sand cloak, Levy hung them over the foot of his bed to dry. With that, the two headed out to town to check out the festival, which had already begun.
“How does the town feel smaller?” Levy grumbled as the two made their way through the crowd.
“Ooh! We should try that out.” Cabre ignored his companions grumbling.
He pointed quickly to a sign that read ‘Knife throwing contest!’ and grabbed Levy’s arm before he could protest. All things considered, it wasn’t awful. Levy was the best by a mile out of those that were competed and easily won them the 15 coin prize.
Cabre seemed to want to try all the foods which lost them that 15 coin prize. Apparently, being with the Legion didn’t pay all that well. As evening came and the stars began to shine overhead, the canopies around town were torn down and stowed for the night, but the festivities continued. Lights that had been strung earlier in the day were lit, illuminating the streets. Levy thought it was odd, but the sharp-shooting competition was about to begin, now that night had fallen. He shrugged it off, figuring it was just another way to gauge people’s talent. Cabre had been pushing all night to get them both to enter, but Levy stood his ground. His pistol was great and all, but it wasn’t exactly the best for long-distance accuracy.
Cabre lined up with all the other competitors and pulled out his sniper. Looking at his competition's weapons, he was pretty confident. Not that they were bad or anything, just not as well-built as far as he could tell. A few looked like they were new to shooting while others took their time to set up. The town had set up a line of targets out in the sand at increasingly longer distances. The first to hit all their targets out to the furthest one would win. The referee raised his hand, green flag glowing against the night sky.
Inhale. Hold.
And it dropped.
Exhale.
With well-trained precision, Cabre quickly went down the line of his targets watching briefly as they spun on impact before moving to the next. Not long after the flag had dropped did Cabre lower his weapon. The others continued their barrage until they’d finished before the judges conferred on the winner.
“In third place, we have Scout Bergeson.” The announcer called.
A smaller boy, maybe a teen, beamed and bounced his way to the front of the crowd.
“In second place, we have Puck Risvale!”
A taller person with a rather lithe figure stepped forward, a slight smile on their face.
“In first place, winning by 5 whole seconds…” The announcer paused for dramatics. “Is Cabre Venrose.”
Cabre beamed, turning to look at Levy for a moment who smiled, rolling his eyes. With a shove from his companion, Cabre stepped forward to accept the 50 coin prize. With it, came a little medal, setting his victory permanently into the shiny material. Sure it didn’t say his name or anything, but it was his proof of victory. The first victory he’d felt in a very long time.
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