Finally, a night of peace.
After weeks of sleeping with one eye open, worried about bandits lurking in the shadows, wolves howling in the darkness, or who knows what kind of monster crawling through the woods, the security of the inn walls, even that dump of the One-Eyed Dwarf, was an almost physical relief.
They could breathe deeply without smelling danger.
While Safira and Brighid, still in her tiny fairy form, probably snoring softly, slept soundly, enjoying every second of that rare tranquility, Colin stood on the small balcony of the room.
The morning air was cold and carried the smell of bread baking in some nearby bakery, mixed with the persistent odor of smoke and sewage from the city that was beginning to awaken.
Down below, in the still dark streets, a few hurried figures were already moving, carts began to creak, and the first lights came on in the windows.
On the worn wooden table in the room, a piece of parchment displayed a list of ingredients written in Brighid's surprisingly delicate handwriting.
The little fairy, clever as always, knew that Colin would be the first to wake up and had already left the "shopping list" ready. He picked up the paper, feeling its rough texture, and put it in his pants pocket.
Without making a sound so as not to wake the two, Colin grabbed a change of clean clothes and left the room, descending the creaking stairs. In the dimly lit reception, the One-Eyed Dwarf was already behind the counter, polishing mugs with a dirty cloth. He raised his good eye, surprised to see Colin so early.
"Any problem, elf? Didn't you like the room?" he grumbled, his voice hoarse with sleep.
"No, everything's fine," Colin replied, his voice low. "I'm just going out for a quick bit. If the girls wake up, tell them I'll be right back." The dwarf merely grunted in response, returning to polishing his mugs.
The capital's streets were already showing more life now. What surprised Colin was the number of young people, probably students from the city's famous university, who were already circulating there, even though the sun had barely risen on the horizon.
They wore tunics with emblems he didn't recognize and carried books or parchments, chatting animatedly in groups.
As he passed one of these groups, a cluster of young men laughing loudly near the entrance of a still-closed tavern, a loose phrase caught Colin's attention.
"Did you hear? Anton is really going to enter the selection tournament!" one of them said, adjusting his glasses on his nose.
"Seriously? But isn't that crap just for the rabble to try for a spot?" another replied, with a tone of disdain.
"Yeah, but it seems his older brother also entered that way, years ago. He must be trying to play the people's hero or something," a third commented, shrugging.
"Anyway, Anton may be noble, but he's a first-class jerk," the first grumbled.
"Don't even get me started! I hope some commoner breaks his face in the first fight!" the second agreed, and the others laughed.
Colin, who was never a master of discretion, stopped and stared openly at the group. His silent intensity was soon noticed. One of the young men, the tallest and with an arrogant air, turned to him.
"What's up? Did you lose something around here?"
"What is this selection tournament you mentioned?" Colin asked directly, ignoring the provocation.
The arrogant young man frowned and took a step forward, standing face to face with Colin, trying to intimidate him with proximity. A bad smell emanated from him. "First, you stink, elf. Go take a bath!" he said, expecting laughter from his friends, which came promptly.
Colin didn't even blink. He kept his gaze fixed on the young man's eyes. "I understand. But what is the tournament?"
Colin's calm insistence and penetrating gaze began to bother the group. The young man in front of him, despite his pose, seemed to falter. His friends stopped laughing and exchanged nervous glances. The bully swallowed hard, feeling strangely exposed under that fixed, yellow gaze. He took a hesitant step back.
"It's... it's a tournament. For commoners... for those who don't have money or a name... to try to get into the university," he stammered, his arrogance gone.
Colin nodded slowly. "And where do I sign up?"
"Just... just go to any city guard post. They'll inform you there..." the young man replied, now visibly uncomfortable.
"Thanks."
Colin walked past him, giving two light pats on his shoulder, an almost paternal gesture, before continuing on his way.
The young men stood there, watching Colin walk away with his calm stride. As soon as he turned the corner, the tension in the group exploded.
"What the hell was that, Myuri?" one of them asked, indignant, pushing the now demoralized bully's shoulder. "You chickened out for some random elf? A stinking mongrel?"
Myuri rubbed his shoulder, his face red with shame and a little fear. "That elf... he's not normal. I could feel the... the pressure. And his eyes... yellow. They say elves with yellow eyes are... powerful."
"Oh, come on! Do you believe that nonsense? They're just legends to scare children!" another scoffed, though his voice didn't sound so confident.
"What if we found out?" suggested a fourth member of the group, a thinner young man with a malicious glint in his eyes. "I know some people from Lurify. That heavy-hitting mercenary guild. For a few coins, they'll give anyone a 'lesson.' We could hire them to test the elf."
The name Lurify hung in the air, laden with menace. Lurify was known for its brutality and for asking no questions. The young men exchanged glances, their bravado giving way to real apprehension. Some swallowed hard, others began to sweat cold just thinking about getting involved with people of that caliber.
"Dude, are you sure? Messing with Lurify... isn't it too risky?" one of them asked, his voice low.
The young man who suggested it shook his head, trying to look confident. "No way! Just pay in advance. They do the dirty work and disappear. No one will link us to anything. Come on! I want to see if this legend of the yellow eyes is real or not."
The reluctance was still palpable, but morbid curiosity and the desire to see the mysterious elf get beaten ended up overcoming fear. They agreed, albeit nervously, to go ahead with the dangerous plan.
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Colin found a bustling market in a nearby square, a labyrinth of stalls selling everything from exotic fruits and unknown vegetables to bubbling potions and rusty metal parts.
He navigated through the crowd, ignoring the insistent vendors, and bought fresh bread, still warm from the oven, some strong-smelling cheeses, fruits, and a bottle of fresh milk. He also found the specific ingredients Brighid had asked for: strange-smelling herbs, a glittering powder, and something that looked like dried moss.
When he returned to the inn room, he found Safira and Brighid, already awake and flying impatiently around the room with worried expressions.
"Where did you get to?" Safira asked, her voice tinged with relief at seeing him.
"You took your sweet time, little Colin! I was already thinking you'd been devoured by a grumpy guard!" complained Brighid, landing on Safira's shoulder.
Their concern quickly evaporated when they saw the bag of food Colin was carrying. He placed everything on the worn table.
No invitation was needed. In less than five minutes, the bread, cheese, and fruits had disappeared, devoured with enthusiasm by the two, and by Colin too, though more restrained.
Brighid, after letting out a surprisingly loud burp for her tiny size, wiped her mouth with the back of her little hand. "Alright, full belly, time for magic!" she announced, clapping her tiny hands. "Move the furniture! I need space to draw a circle!"