Location: Solencia Central Plaza – Early Morning
The cobblestones of Solencia's Central Plaza gleamed in the dawn light, freshly swept for the annual Great Tea Festival. Colorful banners fluttered overhead—jade greens, lavender purples, and sunflower yellows—each emblazoned with stylized teacups and steam motifs. Market stalls formed a wide circle around a central stage, where artisans prepared to demonstrate exotic blends: Fire‑Lotus Chai, Moonlit Jasmine, and the elusive "Cleric's Comfort Brew" (inscribed with Hiroto's likeness, of course).
Itsuki Hiroto arrived just as the first kettle whistled. He wore a simple linen tunic—no disguise today—and carried an empty teacup in one hand, a satchel of emergency teacups slung over his shoulder. Virelya and Sera flanked him, their expressions a blend of amusement and wariness.
Sera grinned. "Tea festival—your kind of battlefield."
Virelya nodded. "Peaceful… until the noble dueling starts."
Hiroto rubbed his temples. "I just want a quiet sample of Comfort Brew."
They moved into the crowd, stepping over incense‑smoke tendrils and sips of steaming tea. Children darted between stalls, juggling little clay cups. Merchants offered free samples, pressing tiny saucers into bystanders' palms.
At the far end, a line formed for Hiroto's own stall: "Silent Savior's Serenity, by Hiroto." A lantern‑lit sign promised a "whisper‑soft caffeine kick." He exhaled in relief—this was the one festival where he could stand still, pour tea, and be left alone.
---
Location: "Silent Savior's Serenity" Stall – Mid‑Morning
The stall's wooden counter was draped in pale green cloth. Seated behind it, Hiroto polished teacups while Virelya cataloged new tea orders and Sera refilled the kettle. A long queue of hopeful festival‑goers stretched back toward the fountain.
A noblewoman in sapphire robes approached, fan fluttering. "Master Hiroto, I request a double‑steeped Serenity blend."
Hiroto forced a polite smile. "Certainly, Lady Aranel." He scooped tea leaves—hand‑measured—and poured near‑boiling water into the cup. As he set the kettle down, his elbow brushed the spout. The kettle tipped at an angle, water surging over the edge. SPLOOSH!
A gout of scalding water arced into the air, dousing Lady Aranel's fan in a spray of steaming liquid. She shrieked, dropping the fan. Nearby, a group of nobles sipping Fire‑Lotus Chai leapt back, their robes fuming. One noble—the haughty Duke Ravencourt—lost his balance, tripping over an unattended teapot and flailing into a stack of porcelain cups.
CRASH!
A domino of shattered cups spilled across the stall, shards clinking like dying bells. The crowd gasped, clutching chests.
Hiroto's face went pale. "I—I'm so sorry!" He flicked his sleeve, trying to contain the chaos. "It wasn't meant to—"
From the commotion, a squad of elite palace guards—still wearing ceremonial tea festival sashes—pushed through, swords drawn. "Stand aside!" barked their captain. "This is an atrocity!"
Hiroto gulped. "They were empty cups—no one hurt—"
The captain's eyes narrowed. "No casualties yet—but we cannot risk escalation. Take him down!"
---
Location: Central Plaza – Continuous
As guards advanced, Virelya stepped forward, placing a hand on Hiroto's shoulder. "Back off," she warned, voice steely. She drew her sword‑hilt just enough to glint in the morning sun.
The guards hesitated. On cue, Sera tossed a vial of "Soothing Vapor" onto the ground. A lavender mist curled up, seeping around boots and ankles, coaxing yawns from the captains. Horses whinnied nearby; the guard commander blinked.
"Everyone… calm," Sera called, waving her arms. She produced a stack of teacups, offering them to the approaching guards. "Serenity blend? It'll help with the stress."
The guards—now stifling yawns—reluctantly accepted. They clinked cups in unison, sipping. Within heartbeats, their shoulders slumped, and swords lowered.
Hiroto exhaled. "Thank you." He picked up a pristine teacup from the debris. Its owner, Lady Aranel, dabbed her fan, eyeing him with cool appraisal. "Please accept a replacement." He handed her the new cup.
She sniffed. The aroma of Silent Savior's Serenity enveloped her senses. Her frown eased. With a delicate nod, she lifted it in silent thanks.
---
Location: Festival Grounds – Moments Later
Peace restored, the festival resumed. Tea tasters flocked back, whispering about "Hiroto's calming power." The ornate stage lit up as the Tea Ceremony Guild prepared for a demonstration of synchronized whisking. Onlookers gathered, applauding the return of tranquility.
Hiroto slumped against a crate, gulping a cup of Twilight Chamomile. Virelya handed him a damp cloth. "That… could have gone very badly."
He nodded, face grim. "I just knocked over a kettle."
Sera grinned. "Kettles are weapons in the wrong hands. Yours happens to be heroic."
Before they could savor the calm, a sudden CLANG rang out from behind the stage. A pair of robed figures, faces concealed by festival masks, tore through the crowd—drawing slender blades etched with a noble crest. Screams erupted as diners flattened themselves against stalls.
Hiroto blinked in disbelief. "Assassins? At a tea festival?"
Virelya drew her sword in one swift motion. "Protect the civilians! Evacuate the area!"
Sera hurled more "Soothing Vapor" vials into the air, clouding the square in purple mist. The assassins stumbled, coughing, blades flickering.
Hiroto seized the moment. He raised his teacup—still half full of warm Chamomile—and hurled it like a frisbee. The cup spun in the air, rim first, and struck the nearest assassin square in the temple with a KERCHUNK. The blade flew from the assassin's grip as the teacup shattered, its ceramic shards spraying steaming tea across the assassin's mask. The assassin's knees buckled; he collapsed, unconscious, steam rising off his face.
The crowd gasped and then cheered: "Cleric's Cup Strike! Cleric's Cup Strike!"
The second assassin, eyes wide, lunged at Hiroto through the mist. Virelya intercepted, sword flashing—but the assassin's momentum carried him past. Hiroto stepped forward, brandishing his empty cup's handle like a baton. CLACk! He tapped the assassin's temple with the handle. The man's legs gave way; he toppled into the throng, unconscious.
Moments later, the steam cleared. The festival‑goers found two masked figures lying on tea‑stained cobblestones, crumpled like discarded robes. The crowd fell silent—then erupted into triumphant applause.
---
Location: Central Plaza – Late Morning
Surrounded by cheering citizens, Hiroto stood with Virelya and Sera as officials hurried in to cordon off the assassins. Banners overhead had been hastily replaced:
> "Hiroto's Teacup Takedown!"
A barker shouted: "See the Silent Savior's Cup Strike live—no added sugar!"
Hiroto's cheeks burned. He raised a trembling hand. "I swear… it wasn't my fault."
A child in the crowd cried, "Hero! Hero!"
The local mayor, wiping tears from his eyes, stepped forward and draped a garland of tea leaves around Hiroto's neck. "You've saved the festival—and our lives. We owe you our gratitude."
Hiroto bowed deeply. "Thank you—but please, enjoy the festival. I'll be in the back with my noodles."
---
Location: "Silent Savior's Serenity" Stall – Noon
Back at his stall, Hiroto poured a fresh cup of Chamomile. Virelya fenced off curious onlookers; Sera distributed free teacups to the cheering crowd. The music resumed; dancers twirled in silk sashes.
Hiroto closed his eyes, sipping slowly. Finally—warm tea, a gentle hum of festival joy, no more assassins, and the promise of a peaceful afternoon.
Until next year, he thought.
And though the festival grounds still buzzed with excitement over the Great Tea Festival Massacre—as they would fondly call it—Hiroto simply savored the quiet moment: a cleric who wielded a teacup as a weapon, but preferred its comfort above all else.