Caden's first thought, as he drifted out of sleep and into awareness, was the uncanny texture of his pillow. Smooth, and distinctly un-pillowy. His second thought, rapidly on the heels of the first, was to wonder why his pillow was breathing. He pried his eyes open and found his head nestled comfortably on Ana's chest. An impressive leap for a young man dressed in nothing but a thin cloth took him across the room in the blink of an eye. He landed, not with the soft grace of of a boulder with the unsteady clumsiness of a sixteen-year-old boy, skidding on the worn wood and almost colliding with the door. Ana didn't move at first, but she mumbled in her sleep and frowned in annoyance at the empty space he'd left behind.
A glance down at the ill-fitted wrap around his waist confirmed his worst fears. In a panic, Caden scrambled around the room, doing his best to gather his wits and his clothes. The rough fabric of the tunic caught under his feet as he tried to pick it up without making noise, his movements hampered by his desperate attempt to be stealthy. Across the small tavern room, Ana lay still. He eyed her nervously, clutching the shirt in one hand and considering whether he should put it on where he stood or make a dash for the screen by the fireplace. His dilemma was abruptly solved by the situation growing even more awkward.
"What are you doing?" Ana's voice, still thick with sleep, came from the bed where she sat rubbing her eyes.
Caden squeezed his eyes shut and clutched the shirt to his chest, mortified. "I, uh, wasn't—I'm just—" The words tumbled out of him as he struggled for an explanation. "I wasn't doing anything!"
"Because it sounds like you're crashing around like a wild boar," she observed, the keen sarcasm piercing even in her half-awake state.
"I just woke up and you were—" He gestured in the vague direction of the bed, face flaming. "And I'm only wearing—"
"Stop." Ana held up a hand, finally focusing her sharp, yellow eyes on him. "Just put on some clothes before you explode."
"It's not what it looks like!" Caden insisted, waving the shirt as though to dispel the entire situation.
Ana watched him with amusement. "If it looks like you're making an idiot of yourself, then yes, it's exactly what it looks like."
His frantic efforts to dress quickly came to an abrupt stop when he realized he'd managed to get his head through the wrong hole of his shirt.
"It's this cursed clothing!" He yanked the tunic over his head, grumbling as he wrestled with it. "I don't even know how I got here."
"Well, you fell asleep on my shoulder—you were soaked and cold" Ana said matter-of-factly, stretching her arms above her head and yawning.
He gaped at her. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"You seemed tired," she replied with a shrug, as if that explained everything.
Caden struggled with the shirt again, relieved that her tone was unbothered, though it only highlighted how much he was overreacting. His cheeks burned hotter than the fireplaces of Durn Gurihm, and he wondered if that would be his next job: stoking them with nothing but his embarrassed face.
"Your other clothes are over there," Ana said, gesturing to the fireplace where they'd laid out his things to dry the night before.
"Oh." His humiliation renewed itself with vigor, and he moved stiffly across the room to retrieve them.
With a resigned sigh, he slipped behind wooden wall and finished dressing. Ana, meanwhile, got out of bed and began preparing for the day with her typical efficiency. As he peeked out from behind the screen, he saw her pulling on her boots with a speed that made him feel like a fumbling child. He was briefly tempted to jump back into bed and hide under the covers until he'd come of age.
She tossed him a questioning glance as she buckled her belt, her eyes alight with a mix of curiosity and amusement.
He attempted a dignified response but only managed a weak, "What?"
"Are you coming, or should I fetch you some tea and a napkin for that puddle of shame?" She smirked, slinging her cloak over her shoulder.
"Of course I'm coming," he mumbled, struggling with his own belt as he followed her out of the room.
The worn wooden floor creaked under their footsteps, and the first light of morning seeped through the thin curtains. Ana waited with remarkable patience as Caden wrestled himself into something resembling an orderly state, giving him just enough time to compose himself before they left the small, sparsely furnished room behind. The plain walls and bare furnishings seemed to mock him with their simplicity, standing in stark contrast to his tangled emotions.
But as he looked at Ana, already halfway through the door and clearly eager to start the day, he found himself relaxing just a bit. Her unruffled demeanor was infectious, and he allowed himself to grin at the absurdity of it all. It wasn't quite the disaster he'd thought, after all.
Ana made her way down the narrow staircase of the tavern, the uneven wooden steps creaking beneath her feet. Her expression, a calculated calm, flickered with brief irritation as the innkeeper approached with a ledger in hand. "The father," he said, pausing to push back his thinning hair, "has already paid for your room." Ana stopped and met the woman's gaze with cold indifference, her jaw tightening at his assumption.
She continued to the counter and purchased fresh bread, dropping the coins with deliberate clatter.
The tavern was a picture of rustic simplicity, with mismatched tables and chairs, an open hearth casting flickering light across the rough-hewn walls. The smell of smoke and breakfast mingled in the air, and Ana moved with efficient grace through the cluttered space, her annoyance simmering just below the surface.
Caden joined her moments later, his earlier mortification still visible in the flush of his cheeks and the awkwardness of his stride. She handed him a loaf, her demeanor brisk and businesslike.
The scent of freshly baked bread filled Ana's hand as she offered it to Caden, warm and inviting.
"Thanks," he muttered, focusing intently on the bread as if it might offer him guidance on how to act like a normal human being.
Its yeasty aroma filling the small tavern. The crust was crisp, giving way to a soft, doughy center. Hints of herbs and spices lingered in the air.
They ate quickly, the warm crusts a welcome distraction from the tension that had carried downstairs with them. Ana watched Caden with amusement, the latter beginning to win out as she remembered his panicked flight across the room. She let him stew in his discomfort for a few moments longer before speaking.
"We need to get you new armor," she said, shifting the focus to the day's tasks. "And clothes. You won't survive your next tournament fight in that patched-up rag you're wearing."
Caden nodded, looking relieved to have something practical to discuss. "What about weapons?" he asked, still chewing.
"I've got weapons covered," Ana replied. "Make sure you stay on your feet this time. Folks aren't fond of boys who pass out after just one round."
"I didn't pass out!" Caden objected, almost losing his grip on his bread. "I was just—"
"Zoning out," Ana interjected, her voice playful yet gentle. "It's the same thing."
Caden sighed and stuffed the last piece of bread into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "So where do we start?" he asked, his tone earnest.
Ana studied him for a moment, her amusement giving way to a more serious focus. "We'll start with your armor," she said, her voice taking on the decisive edge of one who already has everything planned out. "No one's going to take you seriously wearing a tunic two sizes too big."
She motioned him to follow her, settling at a wooden table in the corner of the room. The tavern was beginning to fill, and the hum of conversation and clatter of dishes surrounded them like the waking city's heartbeat. Ana's earlier irritation with the innkeeper dissolved as she spread out a parchment, her mood lifting like a cloud drifting away.
"This is what you'll need," she said, her fingers tracing over an invisible list with precision. "Reinforced leather vest; steel is too heavy for you right now. Bracers and greaves are a must, but leave your right arm light." She marked it out unerringly. "Your reflexes keep it out of danger. You'll have more freedom with your hitting hand that way."
Caden blinked at her, as though she'd just laid out a map to buried treasure. "You figured all that out from the last fight?"
"The parts where you weren't zoning out," she said with a smirk.
"But what about—"
"The boots," Ana cut him off knowingly, "are fine. You're lucky you remembered to slip them off when you fell asleep."
Caden nodded, his earlier embarrassment finally giving way to determination. "You're right," he conceded.
"What's with the hel—?" A voice laced with curiosity spoke just behind Ana's shoulder. Her instincts kicked in, and before the words were fully formed, she'd snatched the unseen figure and crashed their head onto the table. Her yellow eyes widened in surprise as she registered her mistake: there stood Silver, wincing slightly, an errant wildflower in hand.
The sudden thud of Silver's skull on wood echoed like a drumbeat through the tavern, and Ana felt all eyes pivoting toward them. The two people at the nearest table, mouths gaping mid-conversation, watched with a mixture of astonishment and amusement. The innkeeper paused mid-stride, her no-nonsense demeanor interrupted by the unexpected scene.
The innkeeper raised an eyebrow but gave a quick nod, disappearing behind the counter.
Caden stared at Silver and then at Ana, struggling to suppress laughter that burst out in an inelegant snort.
A few heartbeats later, she reappeared with a bag of ice, which she handed to Silver with a wry smile.
He accepted it without breaking his calm, pressing it to his head as though such occurrences were entirely within expectation. "I can see," he said dryly, "you haven't lost your touch."
Silver settled himself across from them, eyes flicking from Ana to Caden.
Ana regarded him with skeptical amusement. "And you haven't learned sense. What are you doing here?"
"The same thing you are here for," he replied smoothly. "For the bread." He pinched the wildflower between thumb and forefinger.
He gave a composed yet pained nod as he righted himself. "It's entirely my fault," he said, his voice smooth despite the assault. "I should know better than to sneak up on you."
Ana hesitated for a moment before offering a brisk apology. "Reflex," she explained tersely, a rare hint of sheepishness in her tone.
Caden broke into laughter, feeling an unexpected kinship with Silver's predicament.
Silver examined the flower as if assessing it for damage, then offered it to Ana with a flourish. "A token of beauty amidst combat," he mused, his flair for a dramatic apparent.
Ana surprised herself by blushing, a sharp color across her cheeks. She swatted the flower from his hand with a quick chop, enough to send it spinning to the floor. "Helmets only ruin your vision, you idiot," she muttered, her voice gruff to mask her fluster.
Silver straightened, the specter of a smile on his lips.
"Enough," Ana coughed, clearing her throat and regaining her composure. She rose from the table with a swift motion, and nodded towards Caden. "We need to go. The tournament starts soon, and you should watch and learn."
Caden sprang to his feet with renewed energy, eager to follow her lead.
"I expect I'll see you both there," Silver said, his tone almost teasing as he waved them off.
Ana shot him a look that was half warning, half amusement, before heading for the tavern's door.
They left the inn, Ana moving briskly toward the door and Caden hurrying to keep up. The cold morning air greeted them as they stepped outside, a welcome change from the warm and smoky atmosphere of the tavern. Ana set a fast pace, eager to dive into the day's challenges. Her thoughts shifted from personal to professional, focusing on Caden's preparation and what they needed to accomplish before the next fight.
The street outside was a maze of puddles and half-frozen mud, remnants of the previous night's downpour. Ana navigated the slippery ground with practiced ease, her boots leaving deliberate imprints in the softened earth. Early morning sounds began to stir around them, the cries of seabirds sharp and echoing between the buildings. They passed vendors setting up their stalls, their breath visible in the chill air, and fishermen carting in the day's catch, their calls loud and vigorous.
Caden followed close behind, his steps careful as he tried to avoid soaking his feet in yesterday's rain. His earlier embarrassment had been swept away by Silver's unexpected appearance, replaced by a bubbling eagerness for what lay ahead. "Does it look different today?" he asked, taking in the vibrant bustle with curious eyes.
"Just cleaner," Ana answered with a quick glance back at him. Her mood lightened with every step away from the inn, and she felt the familiar itch of anticipation.
The city streets were already bustling with life, merchants calling out their wares, and passersby wrapped in heavy cloaks against the chill. Ana navigated the crowd with ease, her elven agility letting her slip through gaps and avoid collisions. Caden followed in her wake, still adjusting his coat as he hurried to match her stride.
The noise and energy of the marketplace enveloped them, a chaotic blend of sights, sounds, and smells. Stalls overflowed with goods, from fresh produce to handcrafted trinkets, and the air was filled with the aroma of spices and roasted meats. Despite the crowds, Ana's mind was sharply attuned to their objectives, and she made her way with purpose through the throng.
She led Caden down a narrow alley, a shortcut that bypassed the worst of the crowd and brought them closer to the city's heart. The Arena.
