Grog

A small crowd gathered around Gretta's stall, all eyes fixed on Oreon and Grog. Still wearing an overconfident grin, Grog looked down at Oreon, who calmly met the taller, heavier man's gaze.

"Come on, boy," Grog taunted. "You're standing there like you want a fight. What's wrong? Afraid you'll piss yourself?"

Oreon didn't respond; he just kept looking up at the man who tried to bully him.

"Like it or not, runt, we have unfinished business." Grog narrowed his eyes at Oreon. "I won't say it again. Get on your knees and apologize, and maybe your beating won't be as bad as I want it to be."

Oreon said nothing. His jaw tightened, and his fists clenched at his sides as he stared up at Grog. For a moment, he seemed ready to give in—if only to avoid a scene.

"No." The answer was calm but firm. Oreon straightened, his hazel eyes sharpening. "I won't apologize for what you pulled yesterday. And I'm definitely not getting on my knees for someone like you."

Surprised murmurs rippled through the crowd. Grog's grin faltered for a heartbeat before twisting into an ugly scowl.

"Why, you little—" Grog lunged, seized Oreon by the collar, and yanked him close until their faces were inches apart. "You really want to try my patience today, huh, runt?" Grog seethed. "Do you know who I am? What I could I do to you? What I could have done to you?"

Oreon didn't flinch. "Yeah, I know exactly who you are." His voice stayed steady. "You're Grog, the town joke—the man who picks fights with anyone who can't fight back. You get drunk and throw your weight around because it makes you feel better." He held Grog's gaze. "But beneath all that, you're just a bully with an oversized ego and a drinking problem."

The crowd gasped, torn between shock and amusement. Even Grog's crew exchanged uneasy glances, unsure whether to laugh or intervene.

Grog's face turned red—nearly steaming—as rage flooded through him. "You little shit stain—!" He reared back his fist, ready to slam it into Oreon's face—

"That's enough!" Gretta immediately slammed her spatula down on the grill with a loud clang. "Grog! I've had enough of your crap to last a lifetime!" She gritted her teeth. "Release the boy now, or so help me."

"Stay out of this, woman!" Grog barked back without even looking at her. "This is between me and the boy. Stay in your place behind the grill and keep your mouth shut!" Grog exclaimed.

Gretta's face went red—not from embarrassment, but pure fury. "My place?!" She grabbed her spatula and pointed at Grog like a weapon. "You absolute no-good, lowlife, piece of—"

"Let him go."

The voice was calm, too calm, with a hint of royalty laced within.

The crowd turned as Celestia rose from her seat, her gaze fixed on Grog. Her expression remained composed, carrying the authority of someone accustomed to giving orders. "I've seen enough of this disgraceful display. Release him at once."

Grog slowly turned toward Celestia and laughed. "And what exactly are you going to do about it, Knife-ears?" Instead of releasing Oreon, he tightened his grip on the Oreon's shirt. "You think a pretty face and pointed ears mean I'll take orders from you? You look like some backwater elf fresh off the auction block." He spat at her, just as he had at Meara's tavern the night before. "You're in human territory now, sweetheart. Your kind doesn't give me orders." A vile grin spread across his face. "Unless you and your little elf friend over there give me a reason to let him go." He licked his lips suggestively.

Still seated, Sylvanie crossed her arms and legs, one foot dangling as she regarded the drunkard. "What a disgusting pig you are..." She closed her eyes and fought to contain her anger before glancing at her sister.

The crowd shifted uneasily. A few people muttered their disapproval, but no one intervened. Grog's followers, however, only snickered at his disrespect.

"Sister, just let me cut him down," Sylvanie said calmly. "It's not like I need my magic to do it," She suggested.

"No, Sylvanie." Celestia's eyes never left Grog's face. "We are guests in this town, and I will not allow us to cause unnecessary bloodshed over the words of a fool."

Grog snorted. "A fool, huh?" He released Oreon at last, shoving him hard enough to stumble into Gretta's stall. "You elves really think you're better than everyone else, don't you?" He crossed his broad arms and puffed out his chest like a rooster. "Who do you think you are, talking to me that way?"

Celestia's expression remained unchanged, but a cold, steely glint entered her eyes. "I speak to you as I would speak to anyone who lacks basic decency," she said evenly. "If you find that offensive, perhaps you should reflect on your behavior."

The crowd stirred again. Some voiced agreement, while others waited nervously. A few even chuckled at Celestia's cutting reply.

"You damn Elves..." Grog growled, turning to Celestia and jabbing a finger at her. "Think you're clever, do you?" He stepped toward her, and his crew shifted behind him, emboldened by his aggression. "Maybe I should teach you some manners—show you what happens when elves forget their place."

Celestia stood motionless, her expression steady. "And what place would that be?" She asked calmly. "Please enlighten me."

Grog's face twisted with rage. "On your knees, begging for mercy—that's where all you knife-ears belong!" He stepped closer and pointed at Oreon. "I don't know why that homeless brat brought you here, or why Meara keeps sheltering him. He's already a nuisance, and now he's bringing elves into our town! We have enough trouble without a pair of high-and-mighty elven bitches running around!"

The crowd fell silent as the tension sharpened. Even Grog's crew shifted uneasily and exchanged nervous glances. Taunting Oreon was one thing, but this confrontation was quickly spiraling out of control.

Gretta straightened to her full height, spatula in hand, and crossed her arms with a threatening glare.

"That's enough, Grog," she said, glancing at Oreon, who said nothing, his face hidden from those around him. "I think you've crossed enough lines for one day." She walked over to stand by Celestia.

Grog's eyes snapped toward Gretta, his face twisting even further. "You too, huh? Taking the side of some knife-ears over your own kind?" He gritted his teeth before he spat towards her as well. "First Meara, now you're standing with them, too? What is it with you hags and defending trash? You're getting soft in your old age, woman?"

"Watch your mouth when you speak to me, boy." Gretta returned. "Now, take your crew and leave. We've had enough of your face hanging around here."

Whispers spread through the crowd as disapproving eyes settled on Grog. He slowly looked around, realizing everyone was staring. His gang followed his gaze, shifting uneasily as people pointed at them.

"Damn ungrateful..." Grog growled.

"Allow me to make myself clear to you, since you seem to lack the competence of someone who doesn't understand the sheer ignorance of their words." Celestia continued. "You stand here in a public marketplace making demands of a young man who has done nothing to warrant your harassment." Her composure remained, but the weight of her words continued to pile on. "You insult women who have shown you no disrespect. You threaten violence over wounded pride. Tell me...what exactly does someone as shameless as yourself hope to accomplish here? Respect? Fear?"

Grog flushed with anger and humiliation. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he seemed ready to lunge at Celestia. But her firm voice and regal bearing made him hesitate.

Fidgeting with anger, his arms shaking slightly. "You—You—You don't get to—"

"No." Celestia's voice was absolute. "You've done enough talking; I am speaking now. You will listen."

The marketplace fell silent. Even Grog's crew froze, unsure whether to step in or watch an elf tear their leader apart with words.

"You speak of 'places' as if you have the authority to decide them." She slightly narrowed her eyes at him. "But I don't see a man with power. No, all I see before me is a man who uses intimidation because he has nothing else to offer. No wit, no honor, no strength, not a sliver of character." Her eyes bore into him. "Just noise. Noise of a loud man, desperate to be noticed."

Grog's face turned an even deeper shade of red, nearly purple with anger. "You...you think you can talk to me like that?!" He snarled, spittle flying from his lips. "I'll—"

"You'll what?" Sylvanie finally said, smirking as she uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. "Hit her in front of everyone?" She gestured lazily toward the crowd. "Go ahead. See how well that works out for you."

Grog snapped his gaze toward Sylvanie and nearly stepped at her, but hesitated again. His eyes swept the crowd, taking in the disapproving stares, shaking heads, and rising whispers.

"Damn Knife-ears runnin your mouths." Grog spat, his voice rising. "You come here with your fancy words and pretty face, acting superior to everyone." He pointed at them again. "But you're just another elf—another knife-ear who thinks the world owes her something!"

Celestia still didn't waver. "I think nothing of the sort," She spoke calmly. "I simply expect people to behave with a modicum of dignity."

"Dignity?!" Grog barked out a harsh laugh. "You want to talk about dignity? Your kind used to look down at us—used to treat humans like dirt beneath your boots!" He breathed, his hands balling into fists. "And now that the tables have turned, you come crawling into our town, expecting us to bow and scrape like we're the ones who should be grateful!"

"I have never asked anyone to bow to me," Celestia retaliated. "Nor have I treated anyone as less than myself. If you carry resentment towards my people, that is your burden to bear—not mine." She paused, narrowing her eyes slightly. "But if you continue to harass this young man or insult my sister and me. I will not stand idly by.

"Oh, yeah?" Grog sneered and stepped forward, but Oreon caught his wrist, stopping him cold.

"For the last time, Grog, stop," Oreon warned. "Just walk away, so we can all get back to what we were doing."

Grog quickly whirled his head towards Oreon in anger. "You damn brat!" Grog lost it. "This is your fault! You brought these damn knife-ears here! You desecrated this town! You rotten little! Your damn mother should have—"

Before anyone could react, a sharp crack rang out as Oreon's fist struck Grog's jaw. The blow sent him crashing into a stack of fish barrels, splintering them and spilling several fish back into the water.

The marketplace erupted into gasps and shouts.

Gretta's eyes went wide. "Holy—"