Aiden eventually reached the tavern's entrance and stepped inside to find several men and a few women seated at wooden tables, engaged in lively conversation while dining and drinking to their heart's content. It was quite a spacious establishment, with its interior illuminated by the warm glow of magical crystals. The tavern also boasted an upper floor that served as lodgings for travelers and townspeople alike.
A woman moved through the tavern with a slow, confident sway, balancing a tray of ale in one hand with foam trembling at the rim of each mug. Her blouse clung to breasts, its neckline low and tight across her chest, with the bodice cinched just enough to lift and press her full bust into view. Warm magic crystal lights kissed the bare skin of her collarbones, casting soft shadows that made her glow.
Her woolen skirt stretched past her knees, hugging every line of her hips and thighs. Each step made the fabric shift, pulling tight here, relaxing there, like it wanted to be touched. She didn't have to rush to deliver the cups of ale, they were happy with waiting.
When she reached a table of customers, she leaned just enough to set down the mugs, her voice low and honeyed. "Didn't spill a drop," she said, with her lips curling.
One of the men fumbled a few coins into her hand, but she gave him a sharp yet playful look. "You're short two coppers, handsome. Try again."
The man grinned sheepishly and reached for his pouch while she moved on to scan the next group of customers who enjoyed watching her work and walk, whilst waiting patiently for their serving to come.
While she certainly caught everyone's attention, Aiden wasn't spared but not in the way one would think. He simply identified her as the barkeeper running the tavern and exactly the right person to speak with about his predicament.
One by one, she served patrons and collected payment from those whose ale had finished, while Aiden began walking toward her. She paid no heed to the approaching figure as she made her way back behind the counter where she originally poured the ale.
As Aiden entered and moved through the tavern, he drew some attention to himself, but only because these people hadn't seen such a young man walk into their establishment in quite some time. Moreover, he clearly wasn't a regular customer.
He arrived at the counter to find the woman busy pouring fresh ale and wiping down cups, barely paying him any attention. "Good day, barkeeper," he began politely. "If you would be so kind as to point me in the right direction toward Xathia, and perhaps spare me some bread, I will serve your drinks for the rest of the night and do whatever else you deem as fair payment."
Despite being a royal, Aiden had the manners of a common man and understood that nothing in this world came for free.
The woman, whose name was Liora, stopped what she was doing for a moment and turned toward the sound of Aiden's voice. She looked him over carefully, taking in his black hair and well-groomed appearance, before her lips broke into a knowing smile.
"Go back to your father's house, boy," she said dismissively, picking up her tray of refilled cups and continuing her walk toward the men with empty mugs, completely ignoring Aiden's request. She had immediately recognized that Aiden was likely the son of a noble who was probably running away from home and had no idea what he was doing. Frankly, she didn't want to get involved with any of that.
Aiden turned to watch her as she continued serving other customers, his face showing nothing short of frustration at being ignored while his stomach continued to growl with hunger.
However, just near the counter sat a burly, broad-shouldered man with a full beard at one of the wooden tables, across from his companions, with an ale in hand.
Having overheard Aiden's request, he now spoke up in a thick, rough accent: "Eh? What's a posh lad like you doin' out 'ere?"
His companions, three of them in total—had all turned toward Aiden's direction as well. There were two men who wore similar warrior outfits and a muscular, pale-skinned woman who had a scar across her face and braided brown hair. She wore a wool-like cape draped across her shoulders, and all of them seemed curious about this unexpected visitor.
Seeing that someone else had given him attention, Aiden seized the opportunity and walked closer to their table. "If you would be so kind, sir, to point me in the direction of Xathia—" he began, but before he could finish his request, the man's companions burst into fits of laughter while exchanging amused glances with one another.
Alaric, the man who had called out to Aiden, had a broad smile on his face as well, and then said warmly, "C'mere, come sit wi' us fer a bit, eh?"
Aiden didn't understand what was so amusing about his request, but he didn't have much choice in the matter. These people who had taken interest in him might, at the very least, be of some help, he reasoned. He approached the burly man, who shifted to one side to give Aiden space to sit down at their table.
The companions could tell immediately that Aiden was nobility, though perhaps not of the highest order. His clothing gave him away first, that fine jacket wasn't something you'd see on common folk wandering the streets. His dark, tousled hair, though somewhat shabby from travel, bore a richness of color rarely seen among the common people.
Most telling of all was his accent, refined and well-mannered despite his current predicament. Though of course, no one would mistake him for actual royalty—a true son of the King, bastard or otherwise.
He lacked the distinctive white hair that marked the royal bloodline, which was the only thing most outsiders knew about the King's children.
Alaric leaned forward, his weathered face breaking into a calculating grin. "Won't ask again what you're doin' out 'ere, noble lad, but go on—tell me you've got some of that fancy noble magic, eh?"
His companions immediately looked up at him with varying degrees of concern. Ingrid, the muscular woman, spoke first with a warning tone. "Alaric, don't…" She could sense her teammate's growing ambition, and Rakan, one of the other men, immediately chimed in. "You would really go that far?"
Tam, the man with the eye patch, simply drank his ale after offering brief chuckles, choosing not to contribute words to the conversation.
Aiden sat there looking thoroughly confused, and Alaric turned to address his teammates' concerns. "Oh come on, ya never 'eard nobles've got strong magic? Could be useful, this one."
Aiden tried to interject, desperation creeping into his voice. "Useful for what? I'll do whatever you ask if you can point me towards Xathia…" He paused, then pushed his luck a bit further. "And maybe spare me some bread if you have any."
It was a rather desperate attempt, but his stomach was growling, and right there before him were plates of food, though nothing compared to what he was used to, but would serve to quell his rumbling tummy.
Ingrid shook her head in resignation, deciding to continue drinking her ale and eating her meal, seeing that even the noble boy seemed rather interested in whatever scheme Alaric was cooking up.
Rakan threw his right hand up in an exasperated gesture and removed himself from the conversation entirely.
Alaric continued in earnest, his eyes gleaming with opportunity. "Oh, we'll do more than just point ya to Xathia—we'll take ya there ourselves. We're Xathians, after all. But first, we're makin' a quick stop in a town nearby, and you can throw some of that magic of yours into a dungeon raid. Sound fair, yeah?"
Aiden felt his heart skip a beat. Of course he knew of dungeons—who didn't? The stories were legendary. They had started appearing one hundred years ago after the defeat of the Demon King, and Aiden had always been fascinated by the tales Grandal would tell him.
Stories of monsters, epic battles, brave knights, and mages who had been properly accepted into guilds and were allowed to partake in dungeon raids. According to Grandal's explanations, mages who participated in and successfully cleared dungeons did so in service of the Kingdom and the Continent at large.
That was all Aiden knew of dungeons as of right now, but he also understood that the risk involved was tremendously high—perhaps too high for bread and simple passage to a Kingdom.
However, could he really choose at this point? His options were limited, and these people were his only hope of reaching Xathia. He then nodded in agreement to Alaric's request and simply said, "Yeah."
"Perfect!" Alaric exclaimed, seeming to be the only one pleased about the arrangement, as the others either shook their heads in disapproval or acted as though they paid no mind to it at all.
Alaric immediately called out in that thick voice of his to reach the bartender, who had returned closer to their position after serving customers at the far end of the tavern. "Liora, love—get us one more plate for our mate 'ere, will ya?" As he spoke, he crossed his big left arm over Aiden's shoulders with a grin spreading across his face.
"Coming right up!" Liora called back as she walked past them, her hips swaying accordingly with each step. Aiden's facial expression formed a wry smile as Alaric's considerable weight pressed down on his shoulders.
...
Meanwhile, in the royal castle, Ursla, Guild Captain of the Starry Maidens, was a middle-aged, dark-haired woman currently wearing flowing robes of white and dark colors with a fur-trimmed collar. She held a staff topped with a glowing crystal and had just walked into the Queen's chambers behind Helena's handmaiden.
"My Queen…" Ursla greeted with a slight bow.
Helena smiled warmly and responded, "Oh please, Captain, I am still a Starry Maiden," bowing back courteously.
Ursla returned the smile, then proceeded to the business at hand. "There must have been a reason you brought me here. Let's get to it quickly as the King awaits me in earnest."
Helena looked at her handmaiden and asked, "What did you tell Baran?"
"That my Queen wanted to briefly say hello to her former captain whilst she was in her chambers," the handmaiden answered, lowering her frame slightly with both hands held together.
"Good, good. Now leave us," the Queen commanded.
"Yes, my Queen," the handmaiden said, understanding she needed to give them privacy. She turned toward the door and departed.
As soon as the maiden left, Helena began speaking while moving both hands to hold Ursla's free hand. "My husband has called you to divine the whereabouts of his bastard. He left the castle earlier today, and from what Lucas tells me, Jarius seemed to have punished him for failing to get into the academy again. Whether these are childish tantrums or he truly wants to be gone, I need it to stay that way." Helena's voice sounded grim as she continued.
"I'm not sure I understand what you mean, Helena," the guild captain said carefully.
Helena sighed deeply, then said, "Your readings for the King today should turn up blank and empty."
Ursla was startled, her eyes bulging for a second as she retracted her hand away from Helena's soft hold. "You're asking me to lie to the King?" Before Helena could answer, Ursla continued, her voice rising. "That breaks my very oath to him!"
"Please, Ursla, this is for me—for Helena," she said, her voice caught between begging and prideful expectation.
"You may have been my favorite at some point, in fact, you still are—but this is where I draw the line!" Ursla said with a stern tone, stomping her staff on the ground.
Then the Queen moved backward without saying a word.
"You very well know that each guild captain is bound by an unbreakable oath to the King. Asking me to do this is asking me to take my chances with death." She turned to leave, but before she did, she said, "I won't tell the King about this, but please, Helena, don't ever ask me to perform such an act again!" Then she strode out of the room with dignity intact.
Helena's handmaiden immediately returned after sensing the tension, wanting to make sure the Queen was well. She began, "My Queen, is there—"
"Leave me be…" Helena said, cutting her short in a cold and somber tone. The maiden immediately bowed again and left the Queen's presence. Then Helena sat down heavily on her seat, visibly distraught and frustrated.
In her anger, she struck a pillow to her side, sending it flying to the other side of the bed. "Urghhh!" she cried out in frustration.
...