After a long day of travel, registration, and what seemed to be only the beginning of Celta’s political tension, the group had found their quarters in the East District. Their temporary home was a large building, made of white-coloured brick and timber.

  It was two stories high, and had wooden steps leading up to a front porch lit up by two lanterns. The group entered, and had begun to claim different rooms amongst themselves before all their bags were even in.

  Elise walked towards the room that would get the least sun during the day, and furthest away from nearby roads, not wanting to hear the blend of different noises from festivities and people in the street

  Faris on the other hand, walked over to a room that had the best view of the home’s small garden during the day.

  “Maybe I'll start a new project for the duration of our stay,” he said thoughtfully, placing his hand on his chin as he observed the garden with immense curiosity.

  “You people are insane if you don't think I’m taking a second floor room.” Remi called out mockingly,

  She made her way up the stairs in haste, already propping her staff up against the room’s table and unpacking her bags before collapsing on the bed with a sleepy expression.

  Soren walked through the house’s corridors, noting the details as he went. It was very well maintained, and included a barracks, an outside training area, and comfortable furnished rooms as well.

  He walked up the stairs and made his way over towards a vacant room window, looking straight ahead.

  He had been debating on whether to choose the room with the best view of the sunrise in the mornings, or with the best view of sunset after a long day in the capital. The sun was currently setting as well, while Soren watched as it dipped lower and lower above the city wall, before finally vanishing from view.

  He stood thinking for a moment, before sighing slightly, frustrated with his own indecisiveness. Then he pulled out a coin, and assigned each side of it two options.

  He flipped it, the sunlight shining against the gold as it turned over in the air, before landing in his palm.

  He looked down, and saw that it had landed on the back of the coin, meaning he would choose the room with the best sunrise view. He paused for a moment, before slipping the coin back into his pocket.

  Jorge emerged with the last of the group's bags from the carriage, before suggesting food once again, which led to them leaving home and taking a walk through the East District in search of festivities, wares, and something to finally eat.

  Arcane lanterns strung between narrow streets cast warm glows in all sorts of colours, and the ever-burning torches of the city’s higher districts lit up the crowded streets.

  There seemed to be musicians on every street corner, all playing festive and lively music while crowds sang along and clapped. Rich laughter and the sound of glasses clinking spilled from taverns and wine houses down every road.

  Members of the Knight’s Guild stood watching over the city’s affairs along the streets, though there weren’t really many present.

  Remi walked ahead and tugged Elise along by her arm toward a merchant stall named ‘The Arcane Lane’, where magical trinkets and objects were on display, while nearby potion shops buzzed with energy and displays of mages using mana.

  “I swear, you’ll love this place,” Remi grinned, her excited blue eyes already scanning for rare gems and enchanted jewelry.

  “Why would I go to a magic shop when I hardly use it,” Elise muttered, arms crossed.

  Remi laughed in a high pitch, and knocked against her gently. “That’s the great thing. Half of these people never have any idea what they’re talking about.”

  They ended up bartering with an eccentric merchant who wore a large hat over a floating crystal, one that specifically changed colors depending on one’s mood.

  Remi stood near it and thought of her happiest memories, and the crystal changed colour into a bright mix of green and yellow.

  “Yeah, it’s accurate,” she said softly, shocked that the crystal had actually responded to her emotions.

  Elise’s eyes widened as she almost fell over, trying her best to hold Remi, who was waving the crystal close to her to try and get a response. Remi let go of her eventually, laughing genuinely as she wiped a tear from her eye.

  Elise folded her arms, frowned, and gave her a disapproving look, yet she still smirked to herself as she shook her head in amusement.

  Faris found himself wandering toward a different section of the East District, home to a courtyard that was lit up in different colours, where moonflowers bloomed between paths of polished stone. Quiet fountains and streams carried the soft sound of travelling water, offering another aspect of relaxation.

  “Could it be? Here?” He thought, observing a tiny plant below him with absolute concentration.

  His green eyes narrowed, before he knelt beside a rare herb growing between the bricks along the path.

  “Silverdew, growing in a place as busy and big as the capital. I didn’t think I’d ever find it in this type of environment."

  Silverdew was a shiny blue and silver coloured flower, known to have potent healing properties, and was often used when creating remedies. They were hard to find, and even harder to cultivate. He pulled out a small blade, gently cutting a stem and placing it securely in his satchel.

  “You’ll make someone feel better, someday.” He said softly, still smiling as he stood up and made his way back towards Jorge.

  A few nobles walked by the pair and offered brief yet polite nods. Faris nodded back out of respect, making a conscious effort to keep to himself. Peace like this was rare, and he intended to enjoy it.

  The duo made their way to what was said to be a proper warrior’s lounge near the coliseum, ‘The Champion’s Flame’. It was a cozy looking tavern made of brick and wood, which had been built across the road from the Argent Ring itself.

  A few hearths crackled and roared with flames as they entered, while warriors from across the continent sat around as they arm-wrestled, drank, and told tales of their favourite battles and adventures.

  A few of the older ones recognized Jorge, giving him a clap on the back and exchanging handshakes. Some of them even offered the pair drinks, and before they knew it, they both held a mug of ale filled to the brim. One younger warrior, dressed in neat and sophisticated clothing, stepped forward and challenged him to an arm wrestle.

  The warrior seemed confident in his victory, grinning from ear to ear as he awaited an answer. Jorge simply smiled as he placed his mug down and accepted.

  “If I win, the drinks are on you.” Jorge declared with a grin, to which the warrior shook his hand, securing the bet.

  He won, of course.

  He left the tavern with an even wider grin than he had when entering, along with two free mugs of ale, one of which he had given to Faris.

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  Soren, on the other hand, had separated from the group earlier on, and now wandered alone through the East District. His breath fogged faintly in the cooler air, as he had moved away from the warmth caused by the crowded streets.

  Yet the hum of the city still thrilled him in a way that he couldn’t explain.

  Celta was loud, alive, and so different from anything else he’d experienced in his life. He made his way a bit further down a dimly lit street, and sat down on a bench, letting out a sigh of relief.

  People continued making their way up and down the road, constantly passing him by while some even offered him a brief nod or wave. He offered his own brief acknowledgements, but gave up after a while and instead directed his gaze up towards the sky.

  “This view seemed more beautiful back home,” he thought, as he noticed the light from the city made it noticeably harder to make out certain stars that he normally would have been able to spot with ease.

  Eventually, his thoughts drifted back towards an inevitable truth.

  He could not afford to get comfortable in this city.

  While he could admire everything that came with these new experiences, and he was grateful for the chance to participate in something of this magnitude, his priority of saving his mother dwarfed everything else.

  “Rightfully so,” he thought, clenching his fists.

  He thought back to earlier in the day, when he had flipped the coin to help him decide which room he would take. In truth, he hadn’t wanted the room with the best sunrise, because he associated it with something that hurt him more than he cared to admit. He pulled out the coin, and looked at the side which it had landed on.

  “You loved the sunrise, mother…”

  It was true. Every morning she would wake up, clean herself, and do whatever small tasks she could around the house, before making a cup of tea and sitting on the porch. She would sip from her cup while she watched the sky brighten, until the sun had fully risen, before waking the rest of the house up for the day ahead.

  She had always told him since he was a little boy that the sunrise was important, because it represented a new day, and to some, a new chance to change.

  To do better, to keep going, and to throw away one’s regrets in order to try again with a clear mind, and more importantly, a heart that was at ease.

  His mind drifted to the traumatic state he had last seen her in. Crying and trembling in Hestus’ grip, with a fear in her eyes that no child should ever have to witness. His eyes narrowed, growing distant as the thought lingered longer than it should have.

  “No,” he thought, as he let out a heavy sigh.

  Instead, he thought of her smile, of how her brown eyes would shine whenever he asked her for help, or when she offered him reassurance.

  To Soren, his mother was an amazing woman, and the type of person that everyone should aspire to be like. Maren was kind, caring, and offered guidance with just the right amount of understanding and compassion.

  He believed that even if the entire world was against him, his mother would continue to stand by his side, rejecting the world’s notions.

  But that wasn’t the case.

  Right now, it felt as if the small and comfortable world they had always known had been flipped upside down. A single tear had begun to streak down the side of his face, but it hadn’t gone far before he wiped it away with his sleeve.

  His mother was with a monster. That same monster was still breathing.

  Those were two things that he could not sit idly by and accept. The third would be his father’s death. It had happened in front of him, after all.

  As much as he had hoped and prayed every night that somehow, his father would show up, with his mother safely by his side, waiting for Soren to join them so they could go back home… That was not the case.

  Hopes and prayers wouldn’t bring the dead back, or save his mother from her fate.

  And they certainly wouldn’t kill those deserving of death.

  Taking action would be the only thing that saved his mother. The only reason he had come to Celta in the first place was because he had been convinced that it would help him get to Eirland faster.

  “This city… could solve everything.”

  If things did end up playing out that way, then he would, without a doubt, be eternally grateful for the group’s help, and for the help of whoever else was willing to aid him in his journey

  He frowned slightly at his next thoughts.

  There was also the equally possible chance that the city and its ruling class would deny him. The time spent travelling, the fights to come, and the people he would meet.

  All of it would have been meaningless.

  He stared blankly ahead for the next few moments, his fingers twitching at his side before he flexed his fingers to calm himself down.

  He glanced once again at the coin still in his other hand, pausing for a moment before he flicked it in the air once again before catching it in a closed palm. For no particular reason, other than morbid curiosity, he had assigned each outcome to either side of the coin.

  He stared at his clenched fist, wondering what the outcome would be. Yet as much as he tried, he could not bring himself to open his palm, to reveal the outcome.

  Instead, he simply slid the coin back into his pocket, closing off whatever answer it would have given him, permanently.

  He stood up from the bench not long after, smoothing himself down before turning down a side street. He had heard the distant sound of someone training and decided to make his way there, concluding that it would be best to not let his mind linger in isolation for too long.

  The wind blew softly against his dark hair, which had grown slightly longer since his arrival in Lavon. It now sat at eye level, and his eyes themselves had also seemed to now have slight dark circles beneath them. Whether it was due to stress or a lack of sleep, he wasn’t really sure.

  The street ended up leading to a small, open training court tucked behind an old blacksmith shop. In it, a girl swung in wide arcs with grace and precision, a longsword twirling in her hand.

  She looked about his age, maybe slightly older, with short dark hair that ended at her shoulders, and light green eyes that reflected the moonlight in certain angles. Flickers of nearby torchlight shone across her blade as she continued practicing her swings.

  She wore a black tunic that cut off at her shoulders, and a pair of black cuffed trousers, both fitting her form.

  She noticed him watching and stopped her training, breathing heavily for a moment before she walked over to him, her sword still resting in her grip.

  “You’ve been staring at me for a while now,” she said with annoyance, shooting him a sharp glare.

  “I’m just… impressed,” Soren admitted, stepping closer and entering the court.

  She raised her eyebrow slightly, before walking forward and extending a hand reluctantly.

  “Lord Rorik’s eldest child, Aliana Thornhall. And who would you be, creepy admirer?”

  “Soren Taylor. I’m with the Hollow Stag. We’re an independent adventurer company. Also, I’m not creepy, nor am I an admirer.” He said with a challenging tone, his eyes locked onto hers as they shook hands.

  “I can’t say I’ve ever heard of you, Taylor. You and your group must be newcomers.”

  She walked over to a nearby weapons rack, and tossed him a wooden sword. He caught it as she took another one for herself, resting her longsword in its place.

  “Well, Soren, since you’re not an admirer, and you are an official participant in the tournament, I see no issue with the two of us having a light spar. I grow tired of swinging at the air, so you’d be doing me a favour.”

  She lifted the sword up, its tip pointing directly at Soren as Aliana tilted her head with a curious expression, waiting on his answer.

  “What do you say, adventurer? Do you accept the offer of a fellow warrior, or will you withdraw into cowardice in my presence, as so many men have done before?”

  Soren frowned at her words, thinking for a bit as he looked at the wooden sword in his hands.

  “She carries herself with nobility, and I’ve heard House Thornhall mentioned before. From what I understand, they’re more traditional, and honour means a lot to them, maybe more so than the rest. I don't know how skilled she is, but if I can at least keep up with her, just enough to earn her respect, she could help me later on…”

  After a moment, he looked at her directly, and smiled softly. “If I’m being challenged by a fellow warrior to a spar in good faith, then who am I to decline?”

  He took a few steps back and got into position, gripping his sword with a growing anticipation. His brown eyes met her green, and she couldn’t help but smirk back in amusement, as she readied her own sword.

  “Try to keep up.”

  Only the sound of nearby festival activities and music lingered faintly in the air, yet it seemed even those were drowned out in the space surrounding the two. Their gazes were locked, as neither one was willing to break it.

  Soren grounded himself with his feet into the dirt below, and Aliana smirked for a fraction of a second at him, taking a small step forward but nothing more.

  Then they moved.