Chapter 252: Fight For Me

 

  A fourth figure walked into the Melodic Moment, he wore a black cloak and kept his face hidden beneath the hood. He was shorter than the vampires and taller than the dwarf. Yet unlike the rest, this visitor did not speak. Instead, he pushed past the other three and made his way straight to the bar. He pulled back a stool a few seats to the left of Veronica and sat down, the stool creaked underneath his weight.

  Stryg slammed his palm over the bar and turned to the barkeep, “Two bottles of your best dwarven Fire-Breath.”

  The barkeep glanced at the three other guests behind Stryg, “Would you like four glasses with that?”

  “Nope, just the bottles,” he said.

  “Very well,” the barkeep nodded hesitantly. “Two bottles of Fire-Breath coming right up.”

  Heather leaned past Damian and Veronica and glanced at the hooded visitor from across the bar. Her grey lips formed a haughty grin, “Actually, I want a glass of frost-mint vodka. Now.”

  “Right away,” the barkeep nodded and hurried to make her drink.

  “Hey, barman, I asked for my drink first,” Stryg frowned.

  “Please wait a moment, sir,” the barkeep said and kept pouring Heather’s drink into a crystalline glass.

  “What?” Stryg said icily.

  Heather giggled, a soft charming sound, “Aw, you look new, so I’m going to give you a bit of advice.” She pointed her finger at the other guests sitting at the tables at the edges of the alehouse, “You see how everyone else isn’t sitting at the bar? That’s what you call respect. They know how to respect Undergrowth’s hierarchy.”

  The barkeep bowed his head and handed Heather her drink.

  She smiled and sipped the blue liquid, “I suggest you learn some respect and do it quick.” 

  Damian tapped the bar table, “What my friend means to say is, this bar is reserved. Best if you get your drinks over somewhere else, yeah?”

  Stryg flexed his fingers, his claws pierced the tips of his gloves.

  “Hard pass,” Freya hopped on the chair to the right of Stryg. “I’ll have a mug of mead with a spritz of red lime.”

  “And I’ll have a glass of blood wine,” Callum smiled calmly and sat next to the dwarf.

  Sylvie plopped down next to Callum and clapped her hands loudly, “I’ll take a glass of blood wine too, please. Oh, I’d also love some chocolate cake, if you have any.”

  “Uh, miss, we’re an alehouse, not a bakery,” the barkeep said dryly.

  “Tch, so much for being a fancy bar,” Sylvie muttered with puffed cheeks.

  Heather clicked her tongue, and raised her half-empty glass, “I want another frost-mint vodka, please. Actually, make it two.”

  “Right away, Miss Navis,” the barkeep nodded.

  Freya grabbed Stryg’s shoulder and shook her head subtly. “Not here,” she whispered.

  Veronica lightly slapped Heather’s arm, “Cancel that order. Make the guests their drinks first.”

  “Uh…” the barkeep glanced between Heather and Veronica uncertainly.

  “Must I repeat myself?” Veronica raised an eyebrow to the barkeep.

  “You’re no fun, Veronica,” Heather rolled her blue eyes. “Cancel my order… for now.”

  The barkeep sighed in relief and quickly began to make the guests’ drinks. The two women singing on the small make-shift balcony at the corner of the alehouse slowly but surely began to sing once more. The other minstrels followed their lead and played their instruments to a soft, sleepy tune.

  Veronica turned to the hooded Stryg and smiled apologetically, “Sorry about all of that. My friends aren’t big fans of outsiders. They were just doing a bit of grandstanding is all. No harm done, really.” She pulled out a few silver coins and tossed them to the barkeep, “For our new friends.”

  “Thank you,” the barkeep nodded. He scooped up the coins with a deft hand and passed out the drinks.

  Damian nodded reluctantly, but followed Veronica’s lead. He raised his glass, “To our new friends.”

  “To new friends!” Sylvie smiled and raised her glass of blood wine.

  Callum smiled politely, though his scarlet eyes were cold, “To new friends.”

  “I suppose I could make acquaintances with a Goldelm,” Heather sighed dramatically, but raised her glass.

  Freya furrowed her brow, “How did you-?”

  “Oh please, those golden eyes are quite famous,” Heather smirked.

  “It’s true! Everyone calls her Gold-Eyes back in Hollow Shade,” Sylvie nodded with a grin.

  Freya glared at an oblivious Sylvie.

  “So you are from Hollow Shade,” Veronica’s smile widened. “I’ve never met a Hollow Shader!”

  “And you are?” Freya asked.

  “Veronica of the Great House of Sientia, at your service,” she bowed with a small flourish. “The drow beauty sizing you all up is Heather of the Great House of Navis.” Veronica pointed her thumb back at Damian, “And the drow who I believe is no doubt trying to pull off an intimidating scowl is Damian of the Great House of Parvus.”

  Damian’s scowl melted apart like ice on a warm summer day. “Veronica,” he whispered, exasperated.

  “I am Freya of the Great House of Goldelm, a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Sientia,” she bowed her head in the customary tradition. “Your House’s extensive knowledge of ancient languages is quite famous. Just last year I read an arcane morphology tome written by one of your House’s scholars.”

  Veronica smiled, “Thank you, my family is particularly proud of our studies in the arcane language. But if we are speaking of fame then the Goldelm name far precedes my family’s own.” She gestured grandly to Freya, “The first Dwarven House in all the Ebon Realm. Your founder, Goldelm I, was apprenticed to the legendary great conqueror himself, Ebon Lord Koval! And who could forget, you are the proud wielders of the Great Warhammer Oginum! Tell me, is it true what they say about Oginum? That when all hope seems lost, the golden hammer shines brightest to light the way towards victory?”

  “So the legend goes,” Freya said proudly.

  “Wow! I’d love to see it one day,” Veronica’s face lit with interest. “Not the ‘all hope seems lost’ part, but you get what I mean.”

  “There’s no need to suck up to the Goldelm, Veronica,” Heather said disdainfully. “She is, at the end of the day, just a dwarf, an outsider in our Realm.” She looked pointedly down at Freya, “This is Undergrowth and we drows were here long before your ancestors wandered into these lands.”

  Freya smiled, amused, “Heather Navis, was it? It’s interesting really, I find myself surrounded by the scions of Great Houses, lineages steeped in feats of legend.” She glanced at Veronica, “House Sientia’s founder gambled with dragons and won safe passage through the Rupture Mountains for her people.” She glanced at Damian, “House Parvus’ founder single-handedly slew the Viperidae Queen deep in the heart of Glimmer Grove forest.”

  Freya pointed her mug at Heather, “And yet… For all my extensive knowledge of the Great Houses of the Ebon Realm, I cannot for the life of me recall a single feat of this, what did you call it? House Navis?” Freya shrugged and sipped her mug, “I understand, of course, I really do. Yours must be a fairly recent House, founded by some lucky commoner whose insignificant feats are so unworthy that the historians did not bother to write them down.”

  Heather’s face grew hot with anger and embarrassment, “You little-”

  Callum coughed loudly, “Ahem, I think what my friends mean to say is, that we’d love to get to know you all better. Perhaps with another round of drinks, on me?” He tossed a few coins on the bar counter.

  Heather’s cold blue eyes slowly shifted towards the handsome hybrid, “...And you are?”

  “Callum. Callum of the Great House of Veres,” he placed his hand over his heart and bowed.

  “House Veres?” Heather stiffened. She quickly glanced about, searching for the famed Gale protectors. Her eyes settled on the hooded stranger sipping quietly on a bottle of dwarven Fire-Breath.

  “It’s just like the stories!” Veronica yelled excitedly. “A Veres and Goldelm, brothers-in-arms, fighting side by side! Well, I guess it’s more like brother-and-sister in-arms, traveling side by side, but you get the gist.”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty cool, right!” Sylvie nodded earnestly. “I just watched a play about them last month!”

  Heather, Veronica, and Damian slowly looked up at the scarlet-haired beauty.

  “Oh, I’m Sylvie by the way, just Sylvie. No fancy aristocrat surname. Just good ol’ Sylvie,” she laughed awkwardly.

  “You’re… tall,” Damian looked her up and down.

  “Being a dire does that,” Callum said defensively.

  “Well, nice to meet you, Sylvie. You can call me Veronica, just Veronica,” she winked.

  “Charmed,” Heather said dryly.

  Veronica glanced at the hooded guest, “I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name. Who might you be?”

  Stryg ignored her question and kept drinking.

  Freya shared a wary glance with Sylvie and Callum, and shook her head subtly.

  “Two whole bottles of Fire-Breath?” Veronica whistled. “That stuff is really strong, are you sure you can finish even one of them?”

  Stryg just shrugged and kept drinking.

  “He isn’t much of a talker,” Freya said.

  “I see… Well, are you all here for the Great Cities Tourney?” Veronica asked.

  Freya furrowed her brow, “How did you-?”

  “It’s pretty obvious, people are coming from all over to watch the tourney,” Veronica grinned. “You all wanna know a secret?”

  “We’re all ears,” Freya said cautiously.

  “First you gotta tell me your name, ~Mister Mysterious~” Veronica wiggled her finger and pointed at Stryg. “Care to take off the hood? Are you shy? Do you have a scar? I bet it’s a really cool scar.”

  Stryg kept drinking in silence.

  “It’s rude manners to keep a lady waiting,” Damian said, anger dripping in his tone.

  “Calm down, Damian, we’re just having a chat,” Veronica shook her head.

  “No. First, they insult Heather and now they dare insult you!? Who do these outsiders think they are?” Damian stood up.

  “Here we go again,” Veronica sighed. “Damian does this every time I talk with a guy. This is why I don’t like going out with him, Heather.”

  “I’m just trying to defend you, isn’t that what you wanted?” Damian frowned. “Someone to fight for you?”

  “Not like this, dimwit!” Veronica crossed her arms. “It’s gotta be spontaneous, romantic, and to actually protect me, not your ego!”

  “Well, this isn’t awkward,” Callum muttered under his breath.

  “What was that? You got something to say, vampire?” Damian snarled.

  “Careful, Damian, I think the hooded one is a Gale,” Heather whispered.

  Stryg stiffened, his bottle halfway to his lips.

  “G-Gale?” Damian took a step back.

  “Oh! Of course! How could I forget the Shield of Veres!” Veronica snapped her fingers. “That’s why you’re all broody and quiet, huh? You must be the ‘silent protector’ type!”

  “...He’s not a Gale,” Freya said softly.

  Damian cleared his throat and walked up to Stryg, “My apologies.” He glanced at Veronica for approval, then back at Stryg, “It seems my intervention was unnecessary.”

  Stryg brought the bottle back to his lips and kept drinking.

  Damian flushed with anger, “Okay, that’s it. The least you can do is look at someone when they are apologizing to you! I don’t care if you’re a filthy rich Goldelm, a sarcastic Veres, or some stupid Gale!”

  Freya and Callum winced at the drow’s final words.

  “Oh my gods, Damian,” Veronica groaned. “Can’t you just be nice for once?”

  “I was trying to be nice, but this outsider can’t just be allowed to act like that in our own damn alehouse!” Damian crossed his arms.

  Stryg leaned back and raised his bottle up high, finishing what was left of the drink. He then placed the bottle on the counter and exhaled quietly. With a casual grip, he flipped the bottle around and tested its weight.

  Damian frowned, “What are you-?”

  Stryg flicked his wrist in a quick flash and slammed the bottle in Damian’s face. The bottle shattered into a dozen glass shards, Damian tumbled back and collapsed on the floor out cold. Several small gashes bled over his face from where slivers of glass had cut him.

  Heather yelled in shock and called for the guards. The minstrels' music died instantly. Someone in the crowd screamed, “Holy shit!”

  “Goddammit!” Freya yelled.

  Veronica watched in stunned silence as Stryg nonchalantly took off his cloak and wiped off what little glass had fallen on it. She had never seen a northern drow like him. His features were outlandish, his button nose and round cheeks seemed child-like, but his eyes… his lilac eyes seemed old, full of quiet anger and a still frigid calm. 

  “Feel better now?” Callum sighed.

  “Yes, very much,” Stryg smiled.

  Veronica’s heart skipped a beat. Beautiful. That smile… there was no other word that came into her mind but beautiful. Yet instinctively some part of her knew there was something else lurking inside that perfect smile, something monstrous.

  A retinue of guards burst into the alehouse, swords and spears in hands.

  “That northern drow attacked Damian Parvus!” Heather pointed an accusing finger at Stryg.

  “Stop! Don’t move!” the captain of the guards yelled and pointed his blade at Stryg and his companions.

  Stryg stared at the guards calmly, but his hand reached for Nameless’ hilt.

  “Damn, we’re really doing this, huh?” Sylvie sighed. “I didn’t plan to start my day like this, but okay,” she cracked her neck and rolled her shoulders. Sylvie rose to her full height and strode towards the guards, her crimson eyes full of bloodlust.

  The guards stepped back, their faces pale with fear.

  “Wait, Sylvie!” Callum called out, panicked.

  “Huh?” Sylvie glanced back at him.

  Freya didn’t hesitate, she pulled out a slip of paper and showed it to the captain of the guards, “We can explain. We’re honored guests of Undergrowth. We just stopped by for a drink and things got a little out of control. Here’s our writ to prove it.”

  The captain of the guard grabbed the slip of paper tentatively. His blue eyes widened as he read the note and glanced at the four strangers. “Hm… By order of House Noir and House Thorn… I see… I understand.” He glanced at his men, “Stand down and call in some healers from the Pale Lotus.”

  The guards looked at their captain as if he was crazy, but they quickly lowered their weapons under his glare.

  The captain looked at Damian with sympathy, he turned to Freya, “If another incident like this happens I’m afraid I will be forced to arrest the instigators, royal writs be damned.”

  “I understand. On behalf of my team, I thank you for your discretion,” Freya bowed her head.

  The captain nodded and handed Freya back her writ, “I know you are all eager to fight it out, but please wait until the tourney officially starts. Both your teams will have an equal chance to compete then.”

  “Both our teams?” Freya furrowed her brow. She glanced at Damian and the others, “Then you mean?”

  “You’re Hollow Shade’s chosen?” Heather’s eyes widened.

  “So you’re the competition,” Freya noted sourly.

  “O-ho-ho-ho shit!” Sylvie grinned. “Now I’m really excited.”

  “Not much to be excited for…” Callum stared at Damian.

  “Your crazy friend attacked him without warning!” Heather snapped. “In an actual match, with magic? None of you would stand a chance!”

  “I guess we’ll find out,” Sylvie said lightly.

  “I can’t wait,” Freya laughed smugly.

  Callum patted Stryg’s shoulder, “Come on, we should get going before you bite someone.”

  Stryg sighed, “Fine.”

  Freya and Sylvie quickly followed behind them.

  “W-wait!” Veronica called out, but they had already left. She sighed, “I never got your name…”

  “Cheating fucks,” Heather glared at the empty doorway. “Who just hits someone with a bottle in the middle of a conversation!? Wait until I tell Calex about these assholes.”