Yousafer picked up the last piece of meat and popped it into his mouth. "These dishes are truly exquisite," he said, speaking with his mouth full while keeping his eyes on Yuray.
Before Yuray could respond, a confident voice cut through the air. "You're right, boy. No matter how much you wander this city, you won't find a restaurant serving dishes quite like these."
Yousafer and Yuray turned to the man sharing their table. He smiled warmly. "You don't look like locals."
"We aren't," Yousafer replied simply.
The man's eyes caught the small, embroidered crest peeking through the opening of Yousafer's cloak. "Here for the festival, then?"
Yousafer wiped his mouth with a napkin. "You could say that. And you? Are you from this kingdom?"
The man leaned back, lifting his clay jar to take a long drink. "No. My homeland is far from here."
Yousafer raised a hand to signal the waiter, then turned back to the stranger. "And you? Are you here for the festivities too?"
A few droplets of water trickled down the man's chin. He wiped them away with a faint smile and a sigh. "I'm searching for someone. The festival doesn't interest me." He paused, his gaze sharpening as it landed on their clothes. "You're rebels, aren't you?"
Yousafer didn't flinch. "Yes. We are."
A quiet voice rose from beside Yousafer. "And you're a rebel too, aren't you?"
The man looked at Yuray—the white-haired youth with closed eyes who had been silent until now. The man touched his own chest. "Yes. You could say that."
"I haven't seen that banner before," the man continued. "Which rebel leader do you follow?"
Yousafer crossed his arms. "We don't follow anyone."
"Do you need something?" the waiter interrupted, appearing with a smile.
"Do you have newspapers?" Yousafer asked.
"New or old?"
Yousafer held up two fingers. "Both."
After the waiter delivered a stack of papers, the man spoke again. "It seems you've only just stepped out into the world. You're just at the beginning, aren't you?"
Yousafer flipped through the papers. "Yes."
The man turned his focus to Yuray. "Be careful. Rebels are constantly hunted by the Army and the Hunters."
Yuray's face remained a mask of indifference. His voice, though soft, carried an immense weight. "It doesn't matter who hunts us. The roles can change at any time."
"Hahahaha!" The man roared with laughter, drawing stares from across the restaurant. "You want to hunt the Army? I've never heard that one before." He pointed at Yuray. "You're interesting. I like you, kid. I came here for someone else, but there's no harm in taking you along too. What do you say? Join my league."
This took Yuray by surprise. Yousafer, however, didn't seem to care; a smirk played on his lips as he continued reading.
"You belong to a league?" Yuray asked calmly.
"The **Sleeping Kaiser**," the man replied, as the restaurant noise resumed around them. "Ever heard of it?"
"I know nothing of organizations," Yuray said.
"Then, what do you say? Will you join?"
Yuray leaned back. "I'm not interested."
The man was taken aback by the swift refusal. "You're fast, kid. Why not take a day or two to think it over?"
"I don't care if years pass," Yuray replied. "A choice made once is a choice that stands. There is no difference between today and tomorrow."
The man took another sip from his jar, the air around him filling with a pleasant scent. "You're a hasty one, but it's a shame. You're strong—very strong."
He hadn't asked Yuray to join just because he liked his talk. From the moment the two had sat down, he had felt a strange, calm power emanating from the white-haired youth. *This kid is rare,* he thought. *A valuable asset. I can't let him slip away.*
He looked at Yuray again. "Look, we won't separate you from your friend. He can join too." He assumed Yousafer was the reason for Yuray's hesitation.
At those words, Yousafer's expression changed. He narrowed his eyes with an arrogant, sharp glint, arched his brows, and bit his upper lip, letting out a huff of breath. It was a look of pure, unadulterated vanity.
The man stared at him for a moment. "What's wrong with you, boy? Has your face been paralyzed?"
"It seems the paralysis is in your brain," Yousafer shot back with supreme arrogance.
The man ignored him. To him, Yousafer was just an ordinary tag-along. His offer to Yousafer was merely bait for Yuray.
"My answer remains," Yuray muttered.
The man sighed, giving up hope for now. He took another sip from his jar.
Suddenly, the restaurant doors swung open. A group of ten young men and one girl entered, scanning the room. Whispers immediately broke out among the patrons.
"Is that the **Night Raven** rebel?"
"Yes! Look at their leader, Raven Beethorn!"
"His banner has one star... he only appeared this year and he's already on the wanted list."
"Why show himself now?"
"Idiot, the festival is coming. Public fighting is strictly forbidden during the festival. Not even the Hunters dare move. The Knights and the Army run this city now."
Raven Beethorn stepped forward confidently. Finding no empty tables, he walked over to a nearby group and placed a hand on a man's shoulder. "I assume you're finished. Why not clear the table for us?"
The group didn't argue. They fled immediately.
"Look," one of Raven's men said, pointing to the table where Yousafer, Yuray, and the man sat. "Only three people there. Should we take it?"
Raven's brown eyes landed on the man with the clay jar. He froze when he saw the man's banner: a solid yellow field with a wolf at its center. He looked away instantly. "Stay away from that table."
"Do you know him, Captain?" one of them asked.
"I'm not sure, but there's no need to go digging into his background."
Raven Beethorn wore a black cloak over a dark red shirt. At the center of his chest was a small red banner with a black raven. Beside him was **Jack**, a blonde youth with a long sword in a white sheath, and **Briley**, a scarred man with a black-sheathed blade. The girl in the group wore a flowing red skirt, her brown hair in a ponytail.
As the Night Ravens settled at their stolen table, Lillar—the man with the jar—stood up. "We'll meet again someday," he said to Yuray. "I hope we aren't enemies then. And I hope you don't regret the path you've chosen."
Yuray remained silent. Yousafer closed his pitch-black eyes and leaned back again. Lillar walked out, carrying his clay jar. Despite the fact that he had been drinking from it since they arrived, the water inside seemed to be an endless spring.
**End of Chapter**