A muffled scream is heard from a black bag that is being dragged across the dark hallway. The bag is thrown into a cell on the left and cut open.

“Shut up, girl.” The guard carrying the bag talks to the opening. 

“You shut up. Aron’s gonna find and save me. He always does.” The person in the bag yells. 

“He’s gonna save me. He’s gonna save me.” She repeats.

“Yeah, yeah. I can’t wait to see the day that your dead savior comes.” The guard laughs.

“Wh–what? No, that can’t be… he’s not. He’s not dead.” Cierra steps out of the bag and goes over to the bars of the cell to grab onto them.

“Believe whatever you want kid.” The guard laughs maniacally.

“He’s not dead.” She repeats and looks around frantically for an escape.

“He’s not coming. He’s not coming. He’s dead.” The guard repeats over and over again as they laugh, echoing from hall to hall.

A carriage pulls into a tavern with a sign saying “THE LOST ALE.”

“Well, here we are, Aron. Good luck with savin’ your girlfriend.” Lod chuckles.

“She’s not my–” Aron grabs his bag.

“Sure she’s not.” Lod winks, cutting him off, and drives off back where they came from.

Aron takes a deep breath and knocks on the door to the tavern. After a few minutes, a beautiful elf with light blue hair answers the door.

“Hey kid, you lost? Y’know you don’t have to knock, right?” She chuckles.

“Oh, right… I’ve never been in a tavern before. Sorry.” Aron sighs and smiles weakly.

“Come on in.” The elf opens the old oak door for Aron to go inside. She leads him to a table with clear signs of vandalism with a knife. The tavern feels empty with chairs and tables all around, but with no one in them. It smells like ale and vomit, probably from all the years this place has been around.

‘Yeesh. Don’t they have any respect for the tables?’ Aron grimaces. 

“Here you are, kid. Would you like something from our kids menu?” The elf chuckles.

“You have kids' menus here?” Aron asks, wide-eyed. 

“Yeah… but I was only joking, you obviously have somethin’ going on if you’re here right now.”

“Oh,” Aron laughs awkwardly. “Funny.” He smiles softly. “Can I just get a Dragon Burger Duplex?”

“Sure…” The elf jots the order down awkwardly. “One of those… comin’ up.” She sighs.

‘What’s wrong with me? I’m very off my game. Normally I’d actually be charming.’ Aron sighs. The waitress comes back with the food and sets it down in front of Aron.

“Anything else?” The waitress asks and smiles.

“Aren’t there supposed to be some powerful mages in this tavern or something?” Aron sighs. The waitress’ face lights up.

“Thank the gods. I thought you were just some boring customer. What’s the password?”

“I don’t know. I have this from the… former… headmaster of Tomal University.” Aron reaches into his pocket to grab the piece of paper.

“Former? What happened?” The waitress takes the piece of paper.

“An incident occurred in which she… passed away.” Aron’s eyes go dark.

“Sorry to hear that. Were you close?” The waitress scans for any imperfections in the writing.

“Yeah. She was my half-aunt and she raised me from age three to now.” A tear forms in his eye and he breathes out deeply.

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” The waitress puts a hand on Aron’s shoulder. “I can take you to the room by the way, this seems genuine.” Aron stands up and follows the waitress to behind the bar. She pulls a lever and a set of stairs going down reveals itself.

‘Maybe this world is more technologically advanced than I assumed.’ Aron thinks to himself.

“That’s so cool,” Aron says excitedly and smiles. 

“Never seen a secret passage? You have a lot to learn.” The elf chuckles and winks at Aron.

“I guess I do.” Aron goes down the old, creaking stairs, one step at a time. He turns around.

“Thanks by the way.” Aron smiles at the waitress and keeps going down the stairs. He gets to the floor after what seems like an eternity.

‘Why did that take so long? So considerate of the guests.’ Aron chuckles and goes deeper into the room, turning right. There’s a conversation at a wooden round table between four people going on already. A human man, An elven man, a dwarven man, and a human woman. Something seems familiar about one of them to Aron. They each have a cup of ale and seem cheery. Aron peeks in and smiles slightly, trying to make a good first impression to them.

“Hey… you guys must be the powerful mages, right?” Aron asks nervously.

“Damn right, kid. And you must be a scared little brat? Loosen up. You’re obviously here for a reason.” The burly dwarf man speaks up.

“Come on, sit. I can make a chair for you.” The male elf tells Aron, sitting calmly. The elf begins to make a chair out of air. It slowly takes shape and he passes it around the table, finally making it to Aron. He takes the chair, places it on the ground, and sits on it.

“Thank you…” Aron shifts slightly uncomfortably.

“Alright, so who are you kid?” The human woman speaks, her voice soft but stern.

“I’m Aron… Aron Moder.”
“A royal, eh? Wait Moder… that seems familiar even without the royal connotation.” The dwarf strokes his beard thoughtfully. The human man at the table begins to cry slightly. He smiles at Aron, still with tears in his purple eyes.

“Hey, son.” The man breathes deeply.

“Son? You’re… you’re not my dad.” Aron chuckles. “There is no way. That you are my dad. I mean, if you were, you’d already be gone.” Aron breathes deeply.

“I know you probably hate me…” Aron’s father gets cut off.

“No. There is no excuse for you. Mom started drinking when you left and I had to live with her until I was three. Until she thought that she couldn’t raise me and sent me off to live with her half-sister. She’s better off without you and I was better off with thinking that you were dead.” Aron clenches his fist and breathes out in anger. Silence befalls the room. 

“Maybe we should go upstairs, guys.” The dwarf sighs and leads everyone else up except Aron and his father.

“What the hell is your excuse, huh?” Aron punches the wall to dispel his anger.

“I… have no excuse. I was hired by the kingdom to get stronger and they said that I had to leave everything behind.”

“The kingdom? Of Moder, right?” Aron sighs.

“Yeah, what other kingdom? I’m literally the ex-husband of their princess.” His father asks, puzzled.

“Nevermind that, how the hell did you end up in Marenth?” 

“Long story. Let’s just say that some people said that the best way to get stronger is to go to the Elven continent. They were right, I’m the strongest fire mage now.”

“Of the humans?” Aron asks.

“No, of the world.” His father smirks proudly. Aron doesn’t respond.

“Still, you left before I even knew your name. None of this is an excuse.” 

“I guess that’s fair… but at least I have something to show for it. I didn’t leave just because I wanted to.”

“You couldn’t take your family with you? Seems like it would be easy.” 

“It’s not that sim–” 

“Could’ve just called up the kingdom and been like ‘hey, I’m either taking my family with me or the deal’s off,’ but no. You had to be difficult and leave us.” 

“I wanted to, but the kingdom–”

“The kingdom, the kingdom.” Aron mocks. “Is that all you have as an excuse for leaving your family? I’m almost an adult now. How do you feel that you missed me growing up. How do you feel that you never got to teach me about not stealing or something.” Aron breathes deeply.

“How do you feel, now that I’m trying to save my friend,” He pauses for a second. “And I need your help.” A tear falls from Aron’s face.

“I need your help, dad.” His father embraces him and pats his back.

“Call me Gilan.” He smiles. “I don’t deserve to be called dad.” They embrace once more and Aron sobs into his father’s arms.