Food and the Docks

Oreon soon pulled the elves into a small dockside marketplace lined with food and merchandise stalls. Releasing their wrists, he gestured toward the bustling scene, where people fished, laughed, ate, and shopped.

"Welcome to the docks!" Oreon announced with a grin, spreading his arms as if presenting a grand treasure. "It isn't much, but it's probably the most relaxed place in town." He stepped aside and pointed to a stall where a large woman flipped meat skewers over an open flame. "That's Gretta's—best grilled fish and meat skewers you'll ever taste. Over there is old Torvin's produce stand." He gestured to a stall piled with colorful fruits and vegetables. "He's grumpy as hell, but everything's fresh. And that's an antique shop," Oreon added, pointing again. "You know, for harmless artifacts and such."

Celestia's eyes widened. The docks bustled with fishermen hauling in their catch, children weaving between stalls, and merchants calling out their wares. The aroma of grilled fish made her mouth water.

"It's lively," she said softly, genuinely surprised. "I didn't expect something like this in a human town.

Sylvanie seemed less impressed. Arms crossed, she surveyed the market critically, though curiosity flickered in her eyes. "It's crowded," she muttered. "And loud."

"That's how a marketplace is supposed to be." Oreon placed both of his hands on his hips. "Don't tell me you guys don't have a marketplace where you're from." He added.

A hint of melancholy softened Celestia's expression. "We did... in Vel'Andria." She glanced around and lowered her voice so only Oreon and Sylvanie could hear. Her eyes returned to the lively market. "Ours was different—more structured. Everything had its place and Order." She gestured toward the bustle around them. "This is certainly more spontaneous."

Sylvanie's gaze roamed the docks with more interest than she cared to show. "Our markets filled the grand plaza outside the great hall," she said quietly. "Merchants used stalls of living wood grown from the ground. Everything was elegant. Refined." She wrinkled her nose. "This is just a mess."

"A mess?" Oreon raised an eyebrow in mock offense. "I'll have you know this 'mess' is what makes the market authentic. No stuffy rules, no pretentious—" Realizing he was about to insult them and their homeland, he stopped short. "I mean... different doesn't mean worse, right?"

Celestia smiled at his awkward recovery. "You're right. Different isn't worse." She stepped toward a stall draped in colorful fabrics. "It's just... new. And new can be good."

Sylvanie gave a noncommittal hum, but her attention had already shifted to a weapons merchant whose worn table displayed daggers and short swords. Though she tried to look uninterested, she soon drifted toward the stall.

"See?" Oreon grinned as Sylvanie's attention drifted toward the weapons stall. Then a sword caught his eye, and he glanced at Celestia. He remembered their battle with Rot—the decaying, corrupted elf—and the light that had surrounded her blade when she struck him down.

"Hey," he said, his tone calm but curious. "I've been meaning to ask—when we fought Rot, you used that sword to help bring him down. Do you fight with weapons like your sister, or...?" Oreon tilted his head.

Celestia stopped mid-step and turned from the fabric stall to Oreon, considering his question.

"I—"

Sylvanie's head snapped around at the question. "Are you kidding?" she exclaimed, pointing at her sister. "Celestia was the kingdom's finest swordswoman. She was far better than I ever was when they tried to train me." She folded her arms.

"Is that why you use a scythe?" Oreon asked as the three strolled on, keeping their voices low and casual.

Sylvanie nodded, pride and irritation flashing in her eyes. "Yeah. Swords never suited me—too rigid, too... predictable." She sliced a hand through the air. "But a scythe has reach. It keeps people guessing... and it looks much cooler when you cut someone down." Her wicked grin made Oreon edge two steps closer to Celestia.

Celestia sighed as they passed a jewelry stall. Its owner called out, but the three were too absorbed in their conversation to notice.

"Sylvanie has always favored weapons that suit her... creative nature." Celestia glanced at Oreon. "As for me, I trained with a sword from childhood because I was the heir. Our father believed a ruler should be able to defend their people personally when needed, not merely command from afar."

"And she took to it instantly," Sylvanie added. "While I was blowing things up with dark magic and getting scolded for being 'reckless,' Miss Perfect over here was mastering every Elven sword form."

"I wasn't perfect," Celestia said gently, a faint blush warming her cheeks. "I just... practiced more than you."

"Because you enjoyed it," Sylvanie shot back with a smirk. "When you spar, you'd get this super intense, focused look in your eyes." She exaggerated a stern expression. "Like the only things that mattered were your blade and your opponent."

Celestia's blush deepened as she looked away. "It was... calming. With a sword in my hand, everything else faded—the politics, the expectations, the weight of duty..." Her voice trailed off.

"Then why did you stop?" Oreon asked as they joined the line at Gretta's stall. "Even in the dungeon, you relied on magic instead of taking a sword like your sister. Why?"

The blonde elf lowered her gaze, her expression softening. "I—I wanted to, but magic lets me minimize casualties. And... it doesn't make me feel as though I'm back on a battlefield."

Oreon's eyebrow rose slightly.

"She didn't want to be on the front lines of war anymore, and that was before the Order invaded," Sylvanie explained. "

"I simply didn't want to be known as another warrior queen," Celestia said as the line moved forward. "Light magic lets me protect others without always having to..." She paused and took a breath. "I could heal, shield, and purify corruption without taking a life." Meeting Oreon's gaze, she added, "After years of training, countless sparring matches, and the Elven wars, I wanted to be more than someone skilled at defeating enemies."

"Even though you were damn good at it," Sylvanie added quietly, a hint of respect in her voice.

Celestia nodded as Oreon moved up to collect plates for everyone. "I understand," he said. "You rely on magic because it lets you stay true to the person you want to be." With only one customer ahead of them, he prepared to step forward.

"Exactly," Celestia replied. "Though..." She hesitated, glancing down at her hands. "When we fought Rot. I had no choice. My magic was nearly drained, and he was too far gone to be saved if we had waited a bit longer... I'm afraid none of us would be standing here today."

"Yeah, he was something else," Oreon said. A bell rang as the customer ahead of them finished ordering and stepped aside.

Gretta, a broad-shouldered woman with flour-dusted arms and a stern expression, looked up from the grill. "Well, slap me with my own skewers and call me surprised—if it ain't Oreon!" she boomed over the marketplace. Wiping her hands on her apron, she leaned forward. Her orange hair was tied in a bushy ponytail, and her yellow eyes narrowed at him. "Haven't seen your scrawny ass in ages! Thought one of those fool errands had finally gotten you killed."

Oreon grinned sheepishly. "Still alive and kicking, Gretta. Just been...Busy."

"Busy, he says." Gretta snorted, then turned her sharp gaze on Celestia and Sylvanie. Her expression shifted. "Well, now..." She straightened and folded her arms. "You brought company—and elves, no less. Fancy ones, too." Leaning closer, she asked, "So, how'd you two get mixed up with this idiot?" She grinned and ruffled Oreon's hair, one broad hand nearly covering his head.

"Idiot?!" Oreon exclaimed back comically.

Celestia hesitated, opening her mouth to reply, but didn't know how.

"He found us in the Order's dungeon, broke us out, and stole something from them too." Sylvanie folded her arms, oblivious to how bluntly she had exposed them. Celestia and Oreon stared at her, jaws dropped and eyes wide.

"Sy—Sylvanie!" Celestia gasped.

"What the hell is wrong with you, crazy elf?!" Oreon spat.

Sylvanie spun to glare at Oreon. "What was I supposed to say? I told the truth, human!" As she argued, Celestia's face burned with embarrassment, and she struggled to contain her disbelief at what her sister had done.

Gretta's eyes widened comically. For a moment, the entire marketplace seemed to hold its breath—even the meat sizzling on her grill fell quiet. Then...

She burst out laughing.

"BAHAHAHAHA!" Gretta slapped her thigh, the crack echoing through the market. "Gods above and below—you broke into the Order's dungeon?!" Tears gathered in her eyes as she pointed a thick finger at Oreon. "You, boy! I always knew there was something special about you!" Still laughing, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Gretta!" Oreon's face flushed as he glanced around to see if anyone had overheard. "Keep it down, will you?"

Gretta waved him off dismissively, though she did lower her voice—just a little.

"Relax, boy. Half the folks 'round here can't stand the Order anyway." She leaned in closer; her grin still plastered across her face. "Besides, anyone who's got the stones to break into their dungeons and walk out alive? That's someone worth feedin' for free."

"Free?" Oreon blinked, straightening up.

"You heard me." Gretta turned back to her grill, grabbed three wooden plates, and piled them high with skewered meat and grilled fish. "Consider it a thank-you for makin' my day. Haven't laughed that hard in months." She glanced over her shoulder at the trio, but more at Oreon. "So, boy, the usual?"

Oreon's tension eased slightly as he exhaled in relief. "Yeah...the usual sounds good."

Gretta nodded with satisfaction and filled three plates with herb-glazed fish skewers, fragrant seasoned meat, and roasted vegetables.

Celestia watched the exchange with wide eyes, still processing what had just happened. "I—I apologize for my sister's...bluntness," she said softly to Gretta. "She sometimes speaks without thinking through the consequences."

"Hey!" Sylvanie protested.

Gretta laughed again, more quietly this time. "Don't you worry, sweetheart. I like people who speak their minds." She handed plates to Celestia and Sylvanie. "Besides, if your sister's telling the truth—and I've no reason to doubt her—you three have more courage than most people here combined." Her expression softened as she gave Oreon the last plate. "The Order's tightening its grip on every town it reaches, taking whatever it wants, whenever it wants..." She shook her head. "Anyone willing to stand against them deserves respect."

Oreon accepted his plate with a grateful nod. "Thanks—"

"Feeding knife ears now, Gretta...First Meara and now you." A voice behind Oreon made his hand freeze before it reached the meat on his plate.

Gretta narrowed her eyes and looked up as Grog approached with four men behind him.

"Not something I would expect from you, or is it because little Oreon's back and you haven't seen him in a while?" Grog taunted as he made his way towards Oreon, standing behind him. "You're going to pay for that little stunt you pulled back at the Tavern yesterday, kid, and that old woman Meara isn't here to save you this time," he threatened. Oreon glanced back once, then returned his attention to his plate.

"Grog, don't...I just want to eat." Oreon spoke calmly.

Grog's grin widened, his yellowed teeth showing as he took another step closer, looming over Oreon's shoulder. "Oh, you want to eat? That's real cute, boy. After you embarrassed me in front of half the tavern." He reached out and flicked the back of Oreon's head—not hard, but enough to be disrespectful. "Maybe I'll let you eat…after you get on your hands and knees and apologize for disrespecting me like you did."

Oreon's jaw tightened, his hands squeezing the wooden plate tightly. He didn't turn around—didn't give Grog the satisfaction. "I'm not doing that," he said quietly, his voice steady. "I already told you—I just want to eat, so just leave us alone."

Grog's expression darkened. "Us?" He glanced at Celestia and Sylvanie, his eyes lingering a bit too long on them both. "Oh, I see how it is now. Got yourself some pretty little knife-ears to hide behind?" He sneered, then looked back at his crew, who chuckled on cue. "What, you think having a couple of Elven whores at your side makes you somebody?

Sylvanie's eyes quickly narrowed as she gritted her teeth, nearly leaping out of her seat. "What the hell did you just call us?" She growled venomously.

Celestia placed a gentle hand on her sister's arm, her expression calm and unreadable. "Sylvanie…not here."

"Listen to your friend, knife-ears," Grog said mockingly, stepping even closer to Oreon now. "Wouldn't want things to get messy in front of all these nice people, now, would we?" He reached out again—this time grabbing Oreon by the shoulder and spinning him around forcefully.

Oreon stumbled slightly but caught himself, his plate still in hand. His hazel eyes met Grog's bloodshot ones, and for a moment, there was silence.

"Let go," Oreon said quietly.

"Or what?" Grog tightened his grip, his breath reeking of cheap ale. "You gonna do something about it, boy?" He shoved Oreon back slightly—this time causing Oreon to drop his plate as Grog made another step forward, smirking down at him with a sick grin.