Standing over his crumpled form, she ducked and reached for his face. She turned his head, opened one of his eyes, even slapped him a couple times and made sure he was breathing. “He’ll be fine,” she remarked, standing back up as she looked to his companions. “All yours.”  

A reluctant, stunned nod from the one with a mustache, and an equally reluctant step forward. He seemed… Afraid to approach her. Zelsys quickly noticed this, and turned away to return to her companions. The cold cobbles were beginning to dig into her feet.

Now, Makhus was just confused. Wouldn’t she boast to the crowd? Humiliate her opponent further to build herself up? And why was it that he saw not a single drop of sweat on her after that sort of exertion? In fact, thinking back, had he ever seen her sweat, even once?

After all that, she just casually slipped back into her boots and took the arm-harness from Zefaris, smiling and uttering thank-yous all along. When she stepped to him to take her cleaver’s holster, Makhus just absent-mindedly handed it over, his mind too preoccupied with sorting through what he knew about her, what he thought he knew about her, and what she had told him only minutes prior.

Sigmund couldn’t help but chuckle into his beard whilst he watched the strange, strange amazon just walk away from a won honor duel like that. Even the onlookers seemed confused, some having taken out their coin purses and readied a copper coin or two to give her. He knew this would be even more insulting to young Halxian’s pride than if she had reveled in her victory, and so chose to give her a bit of a nudge, walking up.

“Hey, snowtop,” he muttered just loudly enough to get her attention. “‘Least bow to the crowd. It’ll seem like you’re treating yer opponent as less than human otherwise.”

He saw her eyes widen, her satisfied grin turning to an almost apologetic, humble smile as she swiftly finished adjusting the position of her arm-harness and whipped around to face the still-waiting spectators.

An ostentatious, overblown inhalation, followed by a long exhalation of silver Fog when she bellowed her respect for her opponent to the crowd, even outright apologizing for getting swept up in the trance of battle. A small shower of copper coins mixed with silvers soared over the unconscious Halxian and the man kneeling by his side, landing at her feet. A couple hit her, a couple she caught, and in less than a minute, the crowd had dispersed, the social ritual completed. 

Zelsys found the ordeal utterly bizarre, but she played along nonetheless. “It’s just a cultural thing,” she told herself. As much as she reveled in beating sense into the arrogant prick, she wasn’t willing to go as far as to deface him when he was beaten. In her mind, just the fact he had been beaten would be enough of a blow to his pride, without the need to rub it in even further.

That being said, the money was nice, and she did not hesitate at all to collect the “donations” - after the spectators and Halxian’s companions left, that is. Makhus, Sigmund, and Zefaris joined her in this endeavor, dexterously gathering the bulk of it into a pile whilst she gathered them into her coin pouch. It quickly became obvious that not even a fifth of the money would fit into the pouch, and so, she resorted to using the Tablet.

The vortex formed and, in barely more than a minute, she had poured the coinage into it handful by handful. She glossed over how many coins were stored in the device before she stowed it away as she stepped towards the inn’s front entrance, muttering “Guess I’ll cover a week’s rent.”

57x Copper Gelt

4x Silver Gelt

She received a strange look from each of the three as they entered and a question from Makhus, “Rent?”

“There’s an apothecary for rent,” she remarked offhandedly as she made her way towards their table. “Fifty gelt per week.”

The swordsman squinted as he visibly tried to remember something as he took hold of a mug and downed its contents. Zelsys drank some of the ale herself, and when she made her way towards the bar to continue her conversation with the barkeep, Makhus followed. She felt at least a dozen pairs of eyes from all across the inn, many of the patrons having been among the bystanders. 

Whilst she leaned on the bar and waited for the barkeep to come out of the kitchen, Makhus made his way to the notice board and quickly found the rent listing. The contact address was none other than the mayor’s office, although the contact’s name was different. 

“Governor Crovacus Estoras, huh…” he muttered to himself, rubbing his chin. The listed contact hours were rather generous, eight in the morning to three in the afternoon, Monday to Friday. He’d have to visit the place as soon as possible if he wanted to rent Riverside Remedies, and so approached Zelsys once more, as she was still waiting for the barkeep.

“‘Ey, Zel,” the familiar rugged voice sounded from behind, his hand on her shoulder. “I’m gonna try to get the place right now. Mind lendin’ me the cash? I’ll pay it back twice over.”

“Zel, huh?” she chuckled at the nickname, mundane as it was. Without speaking so much as a word, she took the coin-stuffed pouch off her belt, took four coins for herself, and handed it to him. He rumbled a thank-you and briskly walked off, though she clearly heard his boots clatter against the cobbles when he broke into a full-tilt sprint the moment he was out the door.

While she stood there, leaning against that bar, Zelsys felt at least thirteen eyes watching her. She was certain that more than half of them would’ve spared no more than a passing look had she not knocked that brat unconscious, and the thirteenth would not stop staring no matter what she did.