It was a dark evening, and inside the bustling inn, candles were placed on the tables to provide some dim light, allowing the patrons to continue their raucous disputes. The diverse crowd consisted of various individuals, but they all made an effort to conceal their identities under heavy cloaks.

A bard tried to earn a few coins by walking around and playing his lute while singing. However, his melodies were drowned out by the cacophony of violent laughter and overly loud voices. Nevertheless, he persevered, knowing he had to pay for his bread somehow, despite the challenging audience.

The inn appeared to be packed, but thankfully, the influx of new guests ceased, leaving the establishment in a state that required great effort from the waitresses, barman, and bouncers. The last ones found themselves frequently having to escort unruly individuals out of the premises.

Then, the door to the inn swung open, and a towering figure entered, instantly attracting the attention of everyone present. Clad in full plate armor, the man's breastplate displayed an intricate inlay of a dragon with its wings majestically spread wide. His legs were protected by leather sheets adorned with tightly packed metal scales. The predominant color was black, but scattered red scales formed a striking triangular pattern, starting from his loins and extending down past his knees.

His arms were heavily encased in red-painted metal, with the left arm being particularly notable. A massive bracer adorned his left forearm, featuring two long talons made of an almost white alloy. These sharp blades extended nearly as far as his fingers. The left shoulder guard was larger and extended upward, reaching all the way to his ear, providing additional protection to his neck.

The right arm was draped in a black cloak that partially obscured it, while a massive battleaxe hung from his belt. The axe, crafted from the same near-white alloy, was intricately decorated with runes. It boasted a spiked head and another spike on the opposite side of the blade, slightly bent towards the handle, which itself was a work of art. Made from meticulously carved red wood, it was heavily engraved with runes.

The man possessed a salt-and-pepper beard in dire need of grooming, and his hair reached past his ears, hinting at the need for a comb.

With a single step inside, he surveyed the establishment, causing the crowd to fall silent as they watched his every move. The man seemed to locate his target and began making his way deeper into the inn, heading straight for the darkest corner. There, behind a table, sat a solitary figure in a dirty gray cloak. Despite the figure's apparent poverty, they had their own table and were undisturbed by the other patrons.

People knew better than to interfere with the imposing stranger, making way for him as he approached the table occupied by the mysterious figure. He pulled out a chair and took a seat, unfazed by the attention he drew.

"Are you an idiot?" the hooded man questioned, his voice laced with annoyance.

"No," replied the armored man. „But I guess you will tell me otherwise in a moment.”

"I told you this task should be carried out discreetly, and yet you saunter in here in full armor, causing a scene," the hooded man hissed, exasperated. "Everyone is listening as we speak."

The warrior turned around, and those who had been observing them quickly averted their gaze, allowing the conversations to blossom once again, filling the inn with noise.

"Happy now?" the armored man retorted.

The hooded figure let out a sigh and raised a skinny hand, adorned with intricate tattoos and rings crafted from gold and platinum, briefly waving his fingers in the air. He then removed his hood, revealing a bald head covered in even more ink, accompanied by piercings in his eyebrows and ears, also made of gold and platinum.

"How did it go?" he inquired.

Despite their open conversation, the corner where they sat seemed to be cloaked in shadows, as if the darkness itself shielded them from the prying eyes of the inn.

"I was too late. Some boy got to it first, and then an old man took him away. I tried to track them, but the trail went cold. I did everything I could—shook some people, bribed others—but it led to nothing," the armored man confessed, shaking his head.

The bald man sighed knowingly.

"I suspected it might turn out that way. We were too late with everything," he acknowledged.

"So what now? Is it over?" the warrior asked, his voice tinged with resignation.

"Of course not. I struck a deal with the head of the Oracle branch. He has kept a vigilant eye out for the emergence of new gifts, and he actually foresaw one," a nasty grin crept across the tattooed man's face. "However, the location is problematic. It's not on the continent but on Frontier Island."

"How much time?" the man in the heavy armor inquired.

"Approximately a month, in the worst-case scenario. If you act swiftly, you might reach the place in time. I have a map with the general location, but it's not precise. You'll need to observe the sky. If you arrive on time and get close enough, you should spot it," the bald man explained.

"So once again, you won't be joining?" the warrior snorted.

"I will be there, but my travels are not as straightforward as yours. You can board any ship, but if I were to attempt that, every kingdom would become aware. Every sailor would be eager to spread the news that the archmage of destruction from Harothep is on their vessel bound for Frontier Island, and that is not a situation we desire. Do I need to remind you?" anger contorted the tattooed man's lips.

"Whatever you say, but once this is done, we're even. I won't owe you anything," the warrior stated firmly.

"We can always come to an agreement regarding monetary compensation, or perhaps another knick-knack to your collection, but that is a discussion for later. For now, retrieve that damn stone. Get it before those old farts do. I don't care what you have to do—just bring it to me. I'll do my best to assist, but I may encounter delays," the archmage declared.

"I'm on it," the warrior affirmed, rising from his chair.

Without further words, he exited the establishment, once again drawing numerous gazes.

The bald man pulled his hood back over his head, retrieved a metal staff adorned with several rings, at the top part, from a hidden corner, and departed the inn. He walked slowly, each step accompanied by the gentle jingle of the rings, but his exit lacked the spectacle of the warrior's departure, capturing only a few curious glances along the way.