The low hum of conversation and the clatter of dishware slowly faded, leaving a comfortable quiet in Solaris Tavern. The four companions: Iridiana, Lyra, Kaitly, and Sarai, remained at the corner of the bartop, continuing their relaxed conversation, their presence seemingly a welcome anchor in the otherwise empty room. Jaysi moved with practiced efficiency, her long braid swaying as she collected tankards and wiped down the scarred wooden tables. Jak worked alongside her, their movements synchronized, clearing the remnants of the evening's bustling patronage. Even as they cleaned, Jaysi’s attention never fully strayed away from the ladies, ensuring their glasses were topped and their needs anticipated.

  As the last few stragglers, their steps heavy with ale and a long day’s work, shuffled out the heavy oak door, the kitchen staff emerged from the back. They looked weary but satisfied, congregating behind the long, polished bar, ready to claim their well-deserved nightcaps.

  “Good evening, ladies!” Kaysi boomed, his voice full of warmth and cheer that cut through the lingering tavern air. He approached the corner of the bar, a tall glass of amber liquid glistening in his hand, a welcoming smile stretching across his ruddy face. “I heard through the kitchen grapevine that you had some comments about your meal?”

  Kaitly and Sarai were the first to respond, their voices overlapping in their enthusiasm. “It was amazing!!” they exclaimed in unison, their eyes bright with the memory of the rich, unfamiliar flavors.

  Lyra, ever the more measured in her praise, but no less sincere, leaned forward, her expression genuinely impressed. “The best meal I’ve ever had, hands down,” she declared. “Seriously, Kaysi, where did you learn to make such a distinct dish? It tasted… different. In the best possible way.”

  Kaysi gave a modest shrug, his gaze drifting toward a young man standing quietly next to him, nursing a drink. “Oh, I was just an extra set of hands this evening. All the credit, and the secret, goes to my young friend here.” Kaysi gestured toward his guest, Ayron. “He brought a little piece of his home to us, a flavor from a far-off land, and judging by the empty plates and the compliments, everyone seemed to love it.”

  Ayron finally turned, his icy-blue eyes lifting from his drink. His gaze swept over the group, lingering for a fraction of a second on Iridiana. That brief connection was enough. It was a jarring, intensely unfamiliar jolt, a current of energy that seemed to pass straight from his eyes to hers. She felt a peculiar, almost physical electricity spark through her, a sensation so foreign and intense that it startled her. This was not the polite acknowledgment of a shared glance; it was something potent, a silent, charged connection she had never experienced from a mere conversation or a passing look.

  Iridiana managed to keep her composure, forcing a confident smirk to her lips despite the sudden racing of her heart. “Quite the jack of all trades, aren't you?” she commented, her voice steadier than she felt, a challenge laced within the compliment.

  A breathy chuckle escaped the foreigner. It was a soft, almost self-deprecating sound. “Jack of all trades, master of none,” Ayron commented, finally breaking the intense gaze and looking toward the rest of the group with a polite, easy smile, devoid of the strange intensity she had just felt.

  Iridiana’s shoulders subtly dropped, and she let go of the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, the strange, electric tension dissolving as quickly as it had appeared, leaving only a lingering warmth in its wake. She mentally shook herself, attributing the reaction to the late hour and the unexpected praise for the mysterious cook.

  "So," Lyra began, her long, dark lashes batting flirtatiously at Ayron, a wide, excessively cheerful smile on her lips. "How long will you be in town? I'm dying to try more of your foreign delicacies. That burger you made was absolutely divine, and I'm desperate to know what other secrets you're keeping." She leaned in slightly, propping her chin on her hand, clearly aiming to charm him.

  The foreigner merely shrugged with weary indifference, not glancing up from the amber-colored drink he was swirling. "Not sure. It depends on how fast Kaysi tosses me out. Knowing him, it could be tomorrow." Ayron's chuckle was dark, devoid of real humor, more like the dry rustle of leaves. He took a slow, measured sip, his gaze sweeping the almost empty tavern.

  "Then you're never leaving," Kaysi snorted, crossing his arms. He'd heard Ayron's self-deprecating humor enough times to be immune. "Besides, you're part of the upper tower now, whether you like it or not. You should get a notification for your room assignment any minute. It's a proper suite, not a single room. You'll finally have a place to call your own."

  "I'll believe it when I see it," the foreigner stated, his voice flat and profoundly skeptical. He set his glass down a little too forcefully. "Until then, I'm squatting in the only unoccupied room you have." His words were heavy with a weariness that went beyond simple tiredness.

  “Where are you from? If their food is this good, I’ll need to visit!” Kaitly commented excitedly.

  “I’ve lived in several places, and each of them brought something to my cooking. That's why it’s so unique.” His voice was so stiff that the young woman picked up the subtle shift. Iridiana, who had been silently observing the conversation, noticed the tension. Lyra's playful mood had curdled, and Ayron's shoulders seemed to bear the weight of the world; a deep, invisible burden. But why? He had passed the prism exam, proving his worth to the upper echelon. What had happened to strip him of his newfound confidence, and what was he genuinely afraid of losing? The lingering distrust in his eyes suggested the danger was external.

  "I can't wait to see you two battle tomorrow. My two best students, going head-to-head," Kaysi lamented, reminiscing about his time as an instructor as he pulled the conversation in a different direction. "It feels like only yesterday I watched you transition into the upper guild, Rae."

  Hearing her nickname, Iridiana smiled. "Rae of Starshine," a name her friends and comrades adopted after she joined Raider's Tower, was a childhood endearment from her grandfather, who said she was very much like her ancestor, Aurora. "Do you think it'll be a close fight?" she asked, a hint of playful anticipation dancing in her watermelon-pink eyes. Iridiana wasn't one to back down from a challenge, even from an unknown opponent.

  "I think he'll give you a run for your money. He moves with efficiency," Kaysi, whose years of experience were evident in the scar tissue covering his knuckles, grinned as he drained his tankard of strong ale. The clang of the empty metal against the rough wooden table briefly echoed in the semi-silent tavern. He walked a few steps to the tap, his movements slightly stiff from old injuries and age, to grab another. "Don't go underestimating him, Rae."

  Iridiana tilted her head. "You think I'd lose to a recruit?"

  Kaysi paused mid-pour, his heavy brows furrowing. "I had the pleasure of sparring with him this morning. He didn't waste a single movement. It was surgical. I've seen that kind of focused intensity only a handful of times, and it was always right before they made a name for themselves, much like you did." He returned with his fresh ale, setting it down with a weighty thud. “As I said, he’ll give you a run for your money.”

  "Wait, you signed up to fight the new guy??" Lyra's head snapped around quickly, her eyes wide, a mix of jealousy and surprise lacing her voice. Her attention had been focused squarely on the foreigner, her imagination running wild.

  "I sure did!" Iridiana said, her eyes gleaming. "He has white emotional markers. I've never fought anyone like that!" She smiled brightly. "Since my grandpa won't let me spar with him, this is the next best thing. I've already told my comrades from the other Prisma locations, and they're making the trip to Laudmuth to see the battle," she added.

  Iridiana only bothered her comrades for worthwhile opponents, and she was certain that once they witnessed Ayron’s fighting abilities, they would be eager to spar with him too. "I even told my friends in Piquia, hoping they’d make the trip."

  "You let Kieran and Jai know??" Kaitly questioned, her eyes wide in surprise. "You only tell them about serious battles."

  Iridiana nodded with an enthusiasm that bordered on fierce eagerness. Her eyes were bright with the prospect of a proper fight. Jai and Kieran, two gentlemen she grew up sparring with, whose skills were honed against her own from the moment they were old enough to hold a training weapon. Their families, the three of them, had been a constellation of companionship and rivalry, nearly inseparable when she was a child.

  "Of course! It's been far too long since they've seen a good battle," she declared, a hint of a competitive smile playing on her lips. "Kieran always mentioned how the strength and skill of his home Tower had dwindled. He’s complained about a lack of motivated opponents, saying most recruits are content with staying in the lower guild, not moving up the ranks. He and Jai need to be reminded what a serious fight looks like. They said they wanted to watch the battle, maybe even challenge him themselves."

  "How far is Piquia from Laudmuth?" Ayron's voice cut across the tavern, the question betraying a casual curiosity that belied the potentially crucial information it sought. He leaned slightly forward, his hands resting on the edge of the bartop in the small tavern.

  Kaysi, who had been absently tracing a condensation ring on the table with his finger, lifted his gaze to meet Ayron's. A small, knowing smile touched the corners of his mouth, a look common to locals discussing the vastness of their home. “Depends on where you’re going within the kingdom,” he admitted, his tone informative but not patronizing. He took a slow sip of his ale, considering the distances. “The southern border, the closest point to our current position, is a twenty-hour ride, assuming you’re using an enki-powered vehicle and pushing it at a decent speed.” He paused, allowing the first piece of information to settle, then added the more startling revelation. “The capital, Kirkewall, which is located near the central northern mountains, is almost two full days.”

  Ayron’s composure, which had been steadily maintained since they met, fractured entirely. His eyes widened into perfect circles, and his jaw tightened imperceptibly. A sharp intake of breath through his nostrils. A sound more of utter disbelief than simple surprise.

  Iridiana did not miss the look of pure, unadulterated shock that washed over the foreigner’s face, chasing away the earlier pleasant demeanor. She frowned slightly, watching him process the simple revelation of geographical scale. Why was he so utterly shocked by this? A two-day journey was inconvenient, certainly, but hardly a world-shattering distance in their part of the world. The young woman knew he wasn't from the area; that much was obvious from his clothing, his mannerisms, and his peculiar gaps in local knowledge. But the degree of his reaction raised new, more pressing questions. Where exactly was this mystery man from, that a two-day trip was a source of such profound astonishment? Was his homeland truly that small? Or, was he surprised for another reason altogether? Iridiana’s initial curiosity about Ayron hardened into a focused, analytical suspicion. He was a puzzle, and this latest information only made the picture more confusing.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “So members from other towers can challenge one another?” The foreigner questioned.

  Iridiana nodded to confirm. “Guild members can travel to other towers and battle opponents. It adds to their tower standing, and it breaks the monotony of fighting the same members. Do they have a guild where you’re from?” She leaned forward slightly, her watermelon-pink eyes fixed on Ayron, a genuine curiosity shining in her gaze.

  Ayron, however, remained characteristically aloof. “How many matches have you won?” he countered, his voice a low, even baritone that offered no hint of his thoughts. He didn't answer her question, a pattern she was quickly coming to expect, preferring to gather information rather than offer it freely. He seemed to be calculating her worth, her standing, and perhaps her potential threat, all based on raw data.

  The young woman peered at her RTG Panel, looking for the precise answer. Honestly, she hadn’t committed the number to memory. She’s sparred in Raider’s Tower multiple times a week for the last few years, a commitment as regular as her morning training, hardly losing to her guild mates in the upper tower. The only time she faltered was during a sanctioned, official match with an elite tower member, those who consistently ranked in the top hundred. It was those battles that truly tested her.

  She finally found the exact record on the panel. “Out of the 327 official matches I’ve participated in, I’ve won 279.” She reported the figure with a matter-of-fact tone, neither boasting nor minimizing the achievement. It was simply a number reflecting years of dedication. The losses still stung, each one a lesson she had paid for with physical and magical exhaustion, but the wins were the foundation of her reputation.

  “Impressive,” Ayron acknowledged, the single word a rare compliment from the stoic man. He paused, absorbing the information and presumably running his own calculations. "That gives you a win rate of approximately eighty-five percent. Consistent performance."

  “Have you ever battled before? Outside of your first match at Raider’s Tower?” Lyra inquired.

  “I’ve been fighting my whole life,” the foreigner commented, his voice a low, gravelly sound that seemed to carry the weight of countless unseen battles. His eyes, once described as a bright, icy blue, had taken on a perceptibly darker, almost slate-gray hue, like ice contaminated by shadows. "Most was not in a traditional ring," he continued, the curt statement echoing with a chilling finality.

  He didn't elaborate on where those fights took place, but the look in his eyes, distant and cold, was commentary enough.

  Iridiana felt a knot tighten in her chest. She began to wonder what kind of life could etch such a weariness onto the features of a young man. What could have taken the inherent light from his icy blue eyes? Was it merely the stress of a harsh environment, or something deeper? Did the young man simply not like to battle? Or, far more ominously, were his fights tied to something profoundly darker? The brief, almost clinical way he spoke of a lifetime of combat suggested a veteran's resignation rather than a warrior's pride, leaving Iridiana unsettled and utterly intrigued by the enigma standing before her.

  The tavern owner set his glass firmly on the counter, shocking the young woman out of her musing. “I’m going to sleep!” Kaysi looked towards his children and Ayron as he made his way to the stairs. “Clean the place well, the tavern opens tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Okay!” Jaysi and Jak nodded.

  “Sure thing,” Ayron replied.

  “Ladies, stop by the tavern anytime. Tell your guild mates how good the food was.” The old man waved as he went upstairs. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

  Kaitly glanced at her communicator, realizing just how late it was. “We should probably get going. I didn’t realize it was nearly eight o’clock. I told Blaise that I would train with her tonight.”

  “I can walk you back,” Sari yawned. “I’m ready for bed.”

  “I’ll help you guys clean up!” Lyra beamed, standing from her barstool. “Hand me a broom.”

  All three ladies glanced at their friend with arched brows of confusion. This was extremely out of character for the young woman who hadn’t touched cleaning supplies in years. Iridiana shook her head, knowing her infatuation had no bounds.

  “Oh, uh, thanks.” Jaysi smiled, grabbing a broom and pan from the corner of the bar.

  “Perfect! Jak grinned eagerly, just steps behind Lyra. “I’ll mop behind you, we’ll get this done fast!” Iridiana noticed a nervous air surrounding the young man. Did he fancy her overly-eager friend?

  ‘Things are starting to get interesting around here.’

  It took no time at all to clean Solaris Tavern. With the combined efforts of Lyra and Iridiana, the crew transformed the dusty, somewhat disorganized pub in less than an hour. The scent of pine cleaner and freshly wiped wood replaced the faint, lingering smell of stale ale and Ardorian perspiration. The moonbeams left a glow through the newly polished window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air; a tiny testament to their thoroughness.

  As Jak put away the industrial-sized mop, carefully hanging it on its hook in the back storage room, Ayron’s RTG panel suddenly lit up with a vibrant azure glow, emitting a series of insistent, high-pitched chimes. The young man looked at the device and read the holographic text that floated just above the panel's surface. “Your dorm is ready! Collect your key from the ‘guild members’ admission desk. Welcome to the upper tower!”

  A wave of congratulatory cheer immediately swept over the tavern's small, close-knit cleaning crew.

  “Ooh!” Lyra clapped her hands together. Her bright green eyes sparkled with genuine excitement for the newcomer. “That’s so exciting! A place to call your own.”

  “It’ll be nice to have a place,” Ayron nodded, a small, genuine smile curving his lips. The relief in his voice was palpable. “I’m sure these guys are tired of having me around.” He gestured vaguely toward the upstairs tavern.

  “Don’t you dare say that!” Jaysi called out sharply, her voice carrying easily as she walked through the swinging kitchen door, wiping her hands on her apron before taking it off. “Ayron, you’re polite, quiet, and you don’t leave a mess. You even cooked an impromptu community dinner. You’re one of the best houseguests we’ve had. That’s saying something considering how many stray adventurers and wannabe heroes have stayed here over the years.” She mentioned with a hearty, good-natured laugh, the sound filling the space.

  Iridiana leaned against the counter and ran a critical eye over the polished mahogany bar top. “The guild dormitories are pretty sweet. Not luxury, but clean, secure, and a perfect size for one person. Everything you need, nothing you don't.”

  “Are you going to pick up your key tonight? We could walk you back to the guild!” Lyra commented, her enthusiasm infectious, her eyes bright and eager as she bounced slightly on the balls of her feet. Ayron cringed internally at her eagerness.

  “Oooh, dorm party!” Jaysi and Jak cheered simultaneously, echoing each other perfectly. Jak reappeared from the back room, swinging his arms dramatically as he joined the call. Ayron thought the suggestion was clearly a joke, given the state of exhaustion they were all in, but the spirit of camaraderie was strong.

  The foreigner contemplated his options, letting the warmth of their good wishes wash over him. On one hand, a new, private space, a door he could lock, and a chance to finally unpack the few meager belongings he possessed were incredibly tempting. On the other hand, the idea of trekking across the city to the monolithic structure of the guild dorms, navigating the bureaucratic admission desk, and then trying to arrange all his things felt like a monumental effort.

  Ayron’s last two days had been a maelstrom of the bizarre and unusual; so intensely eventful it had left him emotionally raw and mentally exhausted. It all began with the jarring, disorienting shock of appearing in Laudmuth. The primal, overwhelming question of how to get back to Piquia, where his life was laid out for him, was a constant, throbbing ache beneath the surface of his consciousness. Yet, despite the gravity of his displacement, he hadn't allowed himself the necessary solitude to process the monumental shift in his life. The sheer, overwhelming reality of being irrevocably pulled from his old life, a life that seemed impossible to return to, had yet to be fully confronted. A deep, cold dread occasionally surfaced, the terrifying realization that he might never see Piquia again.

  It was only in the quiet moments that the cruel irony of his situation became apparent: there wasn't much left for him in his old life anyway. His circle had been small and distant, and he had only maintained contact with two family members; even though they had closed their doors and hearts to him during a recent, desperate time of need, a rejection that had cut him to the bone.

  Perhaps, it was this emotional abandonment that fueled the subconscious, subtle pull he felt to stay in Laudmuth. It wasn't just a strange new world; it was a blank slate, an uncharted territory that offered the possibility of a new beginning, a new purpose. He felt an undeniable curiosity, an almost magnetic attraction to see what adventures, what challenges, and what ultimate destiny this fantastical realm held for him. The young man desperately needed rest, a period of sustained quiet, and, above all, the undisturbed time and space to organize the chaos of his thoughts and decide which path he would ultimately walk.

  "I think I'll wait until tomorrow morning," Ayron finally said, running a hand through his messy, dark blonde hair. "The desk will still be open, and I'd rather get a good night’s sleep for my match tomorrow. Besides," he offered a tired grin, "I'm still learning the way around. I'd hate to get lost before I even collect the key to my own place."

  “Are you sure?” Lyra asked once more. “It wouldn’t be any trouble.”

  “Appreciate it,” the young man stated shortly. “But, I’m going to bed.” Ayron waved goodnight as he walked towards the stairs, leaving the rest of the crew in the tavern. As he walked the enclosed staircase, his sensitive ears picked up on their conversation, causing him to stop in his tracks.

  “Darn…” A finger snap was heard.

  “You’re only upset because you don’t get to spend more time with your crush.” Ayron heard Iridiana’s voice almost immediately. Did her friend have a crush on him? The young man didn’t notice any cues as he replayed the night in his mind.

  “It’s not a crush! I’m head over heels!” Lyra nearly squealed, causing the group to laugh. “How could you not be?”

  “Because I need to get to know someone before ‘falling head over heels’,” Iridiana answered. “I might be good at reading people, but Ayron seems like a tough nut to crack.”

  ‘Always have been, always will be.’ The foreigner mused as he continued his way up the stairs to his bedroom.