Chapter 342: Mage
The sudden commotion drew everyone's attention as a table was violently overturned, spilling mugs of ale and scattering coins onto the floor. A young man, burly and red-faced, loomed over a smaller woman who had been thrown to the ground. Her simple tunic was torn at the shoulder, and her face flushed with anger as she tried to scramble to her feet.
"You think you can wreck my goods and just walk away?!" the man bellowed, his voice booming over the clamor of the tavern. "You owe me, girl! Pay up, or I'll make sure you never leave this city!"
The woman glared up at him, her lip trembling but defiant. "It was an accident! You pushed me—"
CRACK.
The young man's boot connected with a wooden chair near her head, splintering it and silencing the room for a brief moment. The adventurers and mercenaries nearby glanced at the scene but quickly returned to their drinks and conversations, some even laughing under their breath.
Lianne tensed, her hand gripping her fork tightly. "Brother, we have to—"
"Do not put your nose into someone else's matters, Lianne," her brother said sharply, his tone low but firm. "The first rule of surviving in this world."
"B-but…" She looked back at the woman, who was now cornered against the wall, her hands raised defensively as the man grabbed her by the collar.
"Just calm down," her brother said, leaning back in his chair with calculated ease. "Look around. Neither the bartender nor the other adventurers are moving. If this wasn't a normal occurrence here, wouldn't they have acted already?"
Lianne glanced around the room. He was right. The bartender continued wiping mugs as if nothing was happening, and the other patrons either ignored the scene entirely or watched with mild interest, their faces showing no intention of intervening.
"…But she'll get hurt," Lianne whispered, her voice strained.
Her brother leaned forward, his eyes hard. "Most of the time, a stranger's life is not worth risking yours over. Believe me, I've seen plenty of overzealous fools meet their ends trying to play the hero without the strength to back it up."
"And… what's the second rule of surviving?"
Lianne bit her lip, her gaze darting back to the woman. "Never assume that you're strong enough to do anything," she replied though her voice was low.
"Heh, you remembered it well." Her brother replied.
Lianne's fists clenched on the table. "But what will happen to that woman now?"
Her brother's gaze shifted to the altercation, his face unreadable. "If she's resourceful, she'll find a way to get out of this. And if not… well, this is the kind of place where weakness doesn't last long."
As the man raised a fist, ready to strike the woman again, the door of the tavern swung open with a loud creak. A shadow fell over the room, and a deep voice rumbled, cutting through the din like thunder.
"That's enough."
The heavy door of the tavern swung open, and a robed figure stepped inside, her presence silencing the room even more effectively than the commotion before. She was tall and slender, her face obscured by the shadow of her hood. But the faint cascade of blonde hair spilling from beneath it caught the light, glinting like spun gold.
Her voice was calm and steady, yet it carried an undeniable edge. "Leave her alone."
The burly man glanced over his shoulder, sneering at the new arrival. "This ain't your business, woman!" His booming voice echoed, but the robed figure stood unmoving, unfazed by his bravado.
"..." The woman remained silent, her stillness unnerving.
The man took her silence as resignation. Smirking, he turned back to his prey, gripping the collar of the smaller woman's tunic tighter. "See? Even the strangers know better than to mess with me!" He raised his hand, ready to strike.
SWOOSH!
The air chilled abruptly, and a sharp gust of cold swept through the room. A glint of something sharp streaked through the dimly lit tavern.
CRACK.
The man's cry of pain was immediate as blood sprayed from his hand, the severed stump dropping uselessly to his side. His severed fingers hit the floor with a dull thud, while an icy shard embedded itself into the wall behind him, shattering into glittering fragments.
The burly man stumbled back, clutching his bleeding arm, his eyes wide in horror. "You—! You're a mage!"
The robed woman stepped forward, her movements deliberate and commanding. Beneath the folds of her robe, a faint blue glow emanated from her hand, crackling like frozen lightning. The air around her grew colder, and frost began to creep along the edges of the wooden floor.
"I warned you," she said, her voice devoid of emotion. "But you didn't listen."
The man's bravado crumbled into fear. "I… I didn't mean—"
"Leave. Now," she said sharply, the glow in her hand intensifying. "Unless you want to lose more than just your hand."
The tavern held its collective breath as the man staggered back, his face pale and drenched in sweat. With a final glance at the icy fragments on the wall, he turned and bolted, his wounded arm cradled against his chest.
The burly man stumbled to a halt near the door, clutching his bleeding hand. Despite his fear, his pride wasn't so easily swallowed. He growled under his breath, turning back toward the robed woman.
'You'll regret this, mage! Do you think I don't know what is a mage's weakness?' he spat inwardly as he grabbed a dagger from his belt.
'Nobody crosses me and gets away with it!'
As his words hung in the air, a figure standing near the door shifted slightly. Another robed figure, this one a young man with a lean but poised frame, had stepped forward just enough for his presence to be noticed. His hood was drawn low, obscuring most of his face, but his posture spoke of quiet confidence.
At his waist hung a sword, its finely crafted hilt catching the dim light of the tavern. His hand drifted casually to the weapon, resting just above the pommel. He didn't draw it, but the motion alone sent a ripple of unease through the room.
The burly man's eyes darted between the mage and the swordsman. Whatever bravado he had left evaporated. Gritting his teeth, he abandoned any thought of retaliation and shoved the tavern door open with his uninjured arm.
"You'll regret this, all of you!" he shouted as he stumbled out into the night, his threats muffled by the closing door.
The room erupted into murmurs, but no one dared to approach the robed woman. The bartender, who had previously ignored the commotion, quietly reached for a cloth to wipe the blood off the counter, his expression unreadable.
The robed woman turned her attention to the smaller woman still huddled on the floor. "Are you hurt?"
The woman shook her head, her eyes wide with a mix of gratitude and fear. "N-no… Thank you."
Without another word, the robed figure turned and walked toward a table in the corner, where she sat, the glow in her hand fading. She pulled her hood further over her face, retreating into the shadows as though the altercation had never happened.
Lianne leaned in toward her brother, her voice barely a whisper. "She… she's powerful."
Her brother nodded, his expression contemplative. "A mage. And not just any mage—a skilled one. Someone who knows how to make a statement."
"She didn't hesitate," Lianne murmured. "She stepped in."
"She could afford to," he replied, gesturing subtly toward the frost still clinging to the wall. "She's strong enough to handle the consequences. That's the difference, Lianne. Remember that."
As the tavern slowly returned to its usual chaos, Lianne found her gaze drifting toward the robed woman. Something about her presence was both calming and unsettling, and she couldn't shake the feeling that their paths would cross again.
"Eat," her brother said, breaking her thoughts. "We'll need our strength for what's ahead. And keep your ears open—there's more to learn here than just who can throw the sharpest shard of ice."
Reluctantly, Lianne turned her attention back to her meal, though her mind remained on the mysterious mage and the icy warning she had left behind.
At the same time, the room only remained quiet for a moment longer before the low hum of conversation resumed. A few patrons cast curious glances at the robed duo, but most quickly returned to their drinks and dice games, unwilling to involve themselves further.
The robed woman turned to the young man near the door, giving him a subtle nod. Without a word, the two moved through the tavern and approached the bar. Their quiet but deliberate steps parted the crowd slightly as if the air around them carried an unspoken authority.
The bartender, who had been watching the scene unfold with mild interest, leaned forward as they approached. His scarred face betrayed no particular emotion, but his eyes flicked toward the woman's glowing hand before returning to her hidden face.
"What'll it be?" he asked gruffly, his tone neutral.
The robed man reached into the folds of her cloak, producing a small pouch. He placed it on the counter, the soft clink of coins audible even over the background noise.
"Food. Drinks. For two people."
Chapter 343: Mage (2)
The bartender eyed the pouch of coins briefly before grabbing a slate from under the counter and slapping it down. Written on it in chalk were the menu items, along with their prices—most of which were hefty by common standards.
"Two ales, four silver. Add some stew? Eight silver total. If you want a proper meal, roasted fish with crusty bread, that'll run you a whole gold coin per plate." He leaned forward slightly, his tone turning sly. "We've got pickled squid and smoked clams, local specialties. Don't know if you folks can handle the taste, though."
The robed man's hand hovered near the pouch as he glanced at the slate. "We'll take two stews, two ales, and bread."
"Eight silver," the bartender said, his tone neutral. "And for an extra silver, I might have something better than the stew's thin broth." His lips curved into a smirk as if challenging them.
The robed man dropped a gold coin onto the counter, sliding it forward. "Keep the extra. And if you've got something better than the stew, bring it."
The bartender nodded, swiping the coin into his apron pocket. "Good choice. I'll have the kitchen whip up something fresh." He grabbed two tankards and filled them with ale from the cask behind him, sliding them across the counter.
The robed man caught one and handed it to his companion, who took it silently, her hood still concealing her face. The faintest trace of blonde hair peeked out again as she raised the tankard to her lips, sipping quietly.
The bartender busied himself for a moment, speaking casually as he worked. "You don't look like the types to wander into a place like this for the food. What brings you to Stormhaven?"
"Work," the robed man replied curtly, his tone guarded but not dismissive.
The bartender snorted. "Work, huh? Lemme guess—you're here for the Duke's expedition. Like half the people in this city."
The robed man tilted his head slightly, his posture relaxed but alert. "Maybe."
"Figured as much." The bartender set down a loaf of crusty bread and some butter alongside the tankards, leaning on the counter. "You're not the first to come sniffing around for information. I can tell you where the captain's setting up, the kind of people he's hiring, and the rumors swirling around the monsters out there. But information's not free."
"How much?" the robed man asked evenly.
"Depends on what you want to know," the bartender said with a shrug. "A silver for the basics. More if you want specifics or anything... extra."
The robed man exchanged a glance with the woman, who gave the barest nod. He slipped a silver coin from the pouch and slid it toward the bartender. "The basics, then."
The bartender pocketed the coin with a practiced motion. "Captain Edran's down at the docks, near the western pier. He's running interviews and picking the strongest adventurers for his team. Word is, the Duke himself ordered him to handpick only the best. You show up without something to prove your worth—skills, experience, whatever—you're wasting his time."
"Adventurers? Only adventurers can join?"
The bartender threw the robed man a peculiar look, his scarred face creasing into a wry smirk. "It's not only adventurers, kid. But let's face it—only adventurers are crazy enough to throw themselves into a sea swarming with monsters for the sake of some coin. Even mercenaries, who usually aren't shy about danger, tend to steer clear of this kind of job."
The robed man raised an eyebrow. "Mercenaries avoid it?"
"Most of 'em, yeah," the bartender said, leaning his weight onto the counter. "They prefer more predictable work. Escorting caravans, guarding noble estates, that sort of thing. Going up against whatever's been tearing ships apart? That's another level of risk entirely. Adventurers, though…" He gestured toward the lively room with his thumb. "They're a different breed. Half of 'em are chasing glory, and the other half are too desperate—or stupid—to say no."
The robed man nodded thoughtfully. "Hmm. Is a license necessary?"
The bartender scratched at his chin, considering the question. "I doubt it. This ain't exactly the kind of thing where they check your papers at the door. But Captain Edran is a knight of the Thaddeus household, so don't be surprised if they expect some kind of credentials. Could be a letter of recommendation, proof of past achievements, or maybe just your word and your sword. Formal documentation? Maybe. Maybe not. But if you show up looking like you don't belong, you'll probably be turned away."
"Or worse," the bartender added with a chuckle. "Heard the captain's not the most patient man. Doesn't take kindly to time-wasters."
The robed man exchanged a brief glance with his companion, her hood still hiding her expression. "I see. Thanks for the tip."
"Don't thank me yet," the bartender said, sliding another mug to a patron down the bar. "You're paying me, remember? If you want more, it'll cost you."
"I'll keep that in mind," the robed man replied, standing and taking the bowl of stew the kitchen boy had brought over. His companion followed silently, her movements graceful and precise as she carried her own meal back to their table in the corner.
The bartender watched them go, his smirk fading into a contemplative expression. "Another pair of fools," he muttered under his breath, before returning to wiping the counter.
At their table across the room, Lianne and her brother observed the scene with interest. "Do you think they're here for the same thing we are?" Lianne whispered.
"Most likely," her brother said, his gaze sharp as he studied the robed duo. "They seem focused, prepared. But they're not sharing much, which means they're keeping their cards close. Smart."
"What should we do?" Lianne asked, glancing nervously between the strangers and her brother.
"We watch," he said simply, tearing a piece of bread in half. "Stormhaven's full of competitors. You learn more by listening than you do by asking. Finish your food, and don't draw attention. We've got a lot of ground to cover before we even think about heading to the docks."
Lianne nodded, though her eyes lingered on the mysterious pair in the corner. She couldn't shake the feeling that their paths were destined to cross—and when they did, she hoped she and her brother would be ready.
Her eyes lingered on the robed duo as they sat quietly in the corner, eating their meals with an air of detached calm. Her curiosity gnawed at her, and she leaned closer to her brother, lowering her voice.
"Why do you think they're hiding their faces?" she asked. "Do you think they're criminals? Or… something else?"
Her brother smirked faintly, tearing another piece of bread. "I don't think they're hiding their faces to avoid notice. My guess? They're just used to keeping hidden. Travelers like them probably attract too much attention otherwise."
"Maybe," Lianne murmured, her gaze still fixed on the woman's faintly visible blonde hair. "But what if it's something more? What if the woman is… beautiful?"
Her brother chuckled, his smirk widening. "Ah, that's a fair guess. A woman like her, with that kind of presence? I'd wager she's hiding more than just power."
"Or," Lianne countered, her tone playful, "what if the young man is the handsome one? Maybe he's the one keeping a low profile."
At that, her brother laughed softly, shaking his head. "Lianne, my little sister, you've got a lot to learn. Let me tell you something—there isn't a man in this world who'd willingly hide his handsome face. No, it's far more likely the woman is the beauty in this equation."
Lianne rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. "You sound awfully confident about that."
He grinned, shrugging. "Experience, Lianne. Men flaunt what they have. If he's hiding, it's not for his looks."
"..." Lianne didn't reply, her cheeks puffing slightly in mock annoyance.
Her brother cleared his throat, perhaps realizing he'd pushed his teasing a little far. "Ahem. Anyway, let's focus on our food. We'll need our strength for tomorrow."
As Lianne and her brother finished their meals, the robed duo stood from their table in the corner. The man adjusted the clasp of his cloak while the woman moved with the same quiet grace she had displayed earlier. Together, they began making their way toward the door, their steps purposeful and unhurried.
Lianne's gaze followed them, her curiosity undiminished. Her brother, noticing her distraction, nudged her elbow gently. "You're staring," he murmured, smirking. "I thought I told you—don't draw attention."
"I wasn't staring," Lianne whispered back, though the slight pink tinge in her cheeks suggested otherwise. She tore her eyes away, reluctantly focusing on the last piece of bread on her plate.
The robed woman reached the door first, her hand lifting to push it open. As the door swung outward, however, she collided abruptly with a young man.
The impact was minor, but enough to make the young man stumble back a step. He was perhaps in his early twenties, with unruly dark hair and a confident, almost roguish air about him. His robe was scuffed but well maintained, with a long estoc hung loosely at his side.
A white cat was on his shoulder, lying there, comfortably.
"Whoa, sorry about that!" the young man exclaimed, quickly steadying himself. His expression was open and friendly, but as his eyes met the robed woman's, his demeanor shifted ever so slightly.
In a split second, his deep black eyes widened.
Chapter 344: Mage (3)
The young man froze, his black eyes widening as he locked onto the robed woman's faintly visible golden gaze. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to speak, but no words came. For a split second, he stood rooted in place, the white cat on his shoulder flicking its tail lazily, utterly unaffected by its master's reaction.
The robed man beside the woman noticed instantly. His posture stiffened, and his voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding. "Hey! Step aside!"
The shout broke the moment like shattering glass. The young man blinked rapidly, as though shaking off a daze, before his roguish smile returned as swiftly as it had vanished. He raised his hands in mock surrender, his tone light and apologetic. "Ahem, it appears I stared for too long. Pardon my manners."
With a swift, fluid motion, he stepped back, opening the way for the robed duo to pass. The white cat on his shoulder glanced at the robed woman with a lazy, unblinking stare, as though it too were curious about her. Then it turned its head away, utterly disinterested.
The robed woman said nothing, her blue eyes barely flickering toward the young man as she passed. Her companion, however, shot the young man a glare that could have frozen the sea outside. With one last deliberate step, the robed man guided the woman out of the tavern, the heavy door creaking shut behind them.
The young man remained standing near the doorway for a moment, his smile fading into something more thoughtful as he stared after them. His hand absently reached up to stroke the cat's back, and the creature let out a soft purr.
"Well, wasn't that interesting?" he muttered to himself, his voice low enough that no one else in the tavern could hear.
Then, as if flipping a switch, he turned back toward the bar, his easygoing demeanor firmly back in place. His grin widened, and he called out to the bartender as he strode across the room. "I'll take a drink! Something strong. It's been one of those days."
From their table, Lianne and her brother exchanged glances. Her brother leaned back in his chair, his gaze following the young man as he moved through the room.
"Now there's another one to watch," he murmured.
As her brother leaned back in his chair, still watching the young man at the bar, Lianne couldn't help but frown in confusion. The man seemed... ordinary enough, didn't he? Aside from the white cat perched on his shoulder and the scar trailing down his face, he didn't appear particularly remarkable.
"You said we should keep an eye on him," she began, her voice quiet but questioning. "Why? Wasn't he just… normal?"
Her brother's gaze lingered on the man a moment longer before he turned back to her with a faint smirk. "I don't have much to say about it, really. It's just a feeling I get from watching him."
"A feeling?" Lianne tilted her head, her frown deepening. "You're basing this on a feeling?"
"Yep." He shrugged, tearing off another piece of bread and popping it into his mouth. "I feel like this young man isn't normal either."
She crossed her arms, looking skeptical. "You're always the one telling me to base my assumptions on logic and observation. 'Feelings won't save you in a fight,' isn't that what you said last week?"
He chuckled at her mimicry, raising a hand in mock surrender. "I did say that. And it's still true. But every now and then, you come across someone who sets off... something. A sense that they're not what they seem. Call it intuition, if you want."
"Intuition," Lianne echoed, unconvinced. "From the man who insists intuition is unreliable."
"Don't overthink it," he said, leaning forward to pour himself another drink. "I'm just saying, he doesn't strike me as 'normal.' That's all."
"...You're impossible," she muttered, shaking her head as she glanced toward the young man at the bar again. He was laughing now, sharing some lighthearted banter with the bartender while stroking the cat on his shoulder. There was nothing overtly strange about him—aside from the odd scar and his unusual confidence.
Her brother watched her expression and chuckled. "You'll see, Lianne. Sometimes people give themselves away without realizing it. You just have to pay attention."
"And what do you think he gave away?" she pressed, still doubtful.
"Nothing yet," he admitted. "But I'd bet there's more to him than what we've seen so far. Stormhaven's not the kind of place that attracts ordinary people."
Lianne sighed, her curiosity piqued despite herself. "Fine. But if you're wrong, you owe me an explanation."
Her brother grinned, raising his mug in a mock toast. "Deal. Now, finish your drink. The docks won't wait for us tomorrow."
She rolled her eyes but sipped from her mug, her gaze still occasionally drifting back toward the young man at the bar. If her brother's instincts were right, she had a feeling their paths would cross sooner than expected.
*******
Lucavion settled onto the worn stool at the bar, his long coat draping easily around him as he tapped a gloved finger on the counter. The bartender raised an eyebrow, his scarred face breaking into a faint smirk as he approached.
What'll it be? Ale? Or are you here for information?"
Lucavion returned the smirk, his dark eyes glinting faintly as he slid a silver coin across the counter. "Both, actually. But first, let's start with something to eat. Whatever's freshest."
The bartender scooped up the coin, tucking it into his apron pocket with practiced ease. "You've got good timing," he said. "We just got a fresh catch of seabass in. Roasted with herbs, served with bread and butter. That work for you?"
"Sounds perfect." Lucavion leaned back slightly, his posture relaxed but deliberate. He produced another silver coin, letting it spin briefly between his fingers before sliding it across the counter. "And while we're at it, why don't you tell me more about the Duke's expedition? Something more... valuable."
The bartender's smirk widened as he pocketed the second coin. "You've got a way with business, stranger. Let me see what I can do."
As the bartender busied himself shouting an order to the kitchen boy, a soft, inquisitive voice brushed against Lucavion's thoughts.
[Your reaction?] Vitaliara's tone was quiet but unmistakably curious, her presence flickering faintly beside him like a whisper of light. [Why did you react to that girl like that?]
Lucavion didn't respond immediately, his gloved fingers tracing the rim of the tankard in front of him. His gaze flicked briefly toward the door, as though replaying the moment in his mind. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, meant only for her.
"Those eyes," he said simply, his tone measured. "Not a common sight, wouldn't you say?"
Vitaliara tilted her head, her ethereal form barely visible in the faint glow of the firelight behind the bar. [That's all? Her eyes startled you? I find that hard to believe, Lucavion. You're not one to be thrown off by appearances.]
Lucavion shrugged nonchalantly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "She was just a beautiful girl," he said lightly, his tone carrying the air of someone utterly unbothered. "I was surprised, that's all."
Vitaliara's glow flickered sharply in response, her ethereal form leaning closer. [You're insufferable, Lucavion.]
Before he could respond, her paw flashed out in a quick, almost playful swipe. The faint glint of her claws caught his cheek, leaving a thin, clean cut that oozed a small bead of blood.
Lucavion froze for a moment, then let out a low chuckle, his smirk widening as he met her glowing gaze. "Why are you angry now?" he asked, his tone tinged with amusement.
Vitaliara didn't reply. Instead, she turned her head away with a pointed flick of her tail, her glowing form pulsing faintly as she gave a soft, clipped reply. [Humph.]
Lucavion raised a hand to his cheek, smearing the blood slightly with his glove before shaking his head. "No answer, huh?" His voice carried an undercurrent of amusement as he leaned back against the bar, his sharp gaze flicking briefly toward the kitchen.
The bartender reappeared, carrying a plate of roasted seabass accompanied by crusty bread and a small dish of butter. He placed it in front of Lucavion with a nod. "Here. Fresh, like I promised."
"Thanks," Lucavion said, inclining his head slightly as he picked up a piece of bread, his movements casual.
But even as he tore into the bread, his mind drifted, the lively tavern fading into the background. His smirk lingered, though it now carried a sharper edge—one born not of amusement, but of contemplation.
To think that I would meet you here, of all places... he thought, his dark eyes momentarily distant as he replayed the encounter in his mind. The faint glimmer of golden eyes beneath the robed woman's hood, the measured way she carried herself, the subtle weight of her presence. It all clicked together in his thoughts, a thread weaving into the tapestry he had known too well.
Indeed, as expected... You are still following the plot of the Novel.
The thought carried a mix of satisfaction and something quieter—something close to resignation. He'd known this moment would come, though he hadn't expected it here, in a bustling tavern in Stormhaven, amidst the noise of adventurers and the smell of salt and ale.
It has also been a while... Elara.
He had finally met with the protagonist of this world.
And the daughter of his supposed master whom he promised to protect.
"It really has been a while."