The Order in Haven Crest

 The words made the entire room go silent as every eye in the room rose.

Celestia's breath hitched, and her hand flew to her sister's arm. Sylvanie stood rigid, her eyes narrowing to dangerous slits as she clenched her jaw.

Oreon felt the blood drain from his face. "What do you mean they got Silas?" His voice sounded sharper than he meant, tinged with panic. "What happened?"

Grog hesitated, but before he could answer, Oreon shocked everyone by seizing him by the collar. "Grog! What the hell happened?! Where is Silas?!" Oreon questioned.

Grog's eyes—wide with fear—finally focused on Oreon's face. For once, there was no sneer, no mockery—just raw terror.

"The square," he choked out. "They... they dragged him to the town square. They said they're going to make an example of him." His trembling hands gripped Oreon's wrists. "There's a whole unit, Oreon. Knights are everywhere. They've even seized the docks. Gretta's trying her best to hold them off now!" Oreon's eyes widened, then narrowed.

One of Grog's men—the wiry one pinned against the broken door—spoke, his voice shaking. "They're... they're gonna burn him. Show everyone what will happen to them if they don't give them what they asked for." He shivered as Oreon gritted his teeth before pushing Grog to the side.

"Shit—" Oreon began, rushing to the door at full speed.

"Oreon, wait!" Celestia's urgent voice cut through the chaos, but he had already reached the door and shoved past the wiry man, sending him stumbling aside.

"Damn fool." Sylvanie gritted her teeth and prepared to chase after Oreon, but Grog spoke before she could move.

"What about Gretta? They have her and half the town pinned down at the docks?"

Sylvanie froze mid-step, her eyes flickering between the broken doorway and Grog's trembling form. Her jaw clenched so tight she could feel her teeth grinding.

"Damn it all..." She hissed through her teeth.

Celestia moved to her sister's side, her eyes clouded with worry. "We need to split up," she said quietly, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands.

"Sylvanie—the docks. Your magic works best in chaos. I'll go after Oreon."

"Absolutely not!" Sylvanie whirled on her sister. "Don't be stupid; separating is the last thing we need to do. If they capture you, we're dead either way, and I'm not letting that happen. Not again."

Celestia met her sister's fierce gaze without flinching. "Then what do you propose we do? Everyone in town will die if the Order has its way, and with Oreon alone, he'll—"

"We'll go!" Grog spoke up, cutting Celestia off, causing the group to turn their heads to him. "We'll go back up the runt." He pointed at himself.

Sylvanie narrowed her eyes, studying Grog warily. "You?" She scoffed, her lip curling. "Yesterday, you were ready to beat him senseless. Now you want to back him up?" She placed one hand on her hip. "Forgive me if I don't exactly believe you, but what's your angle?"

"Not to mention when he got back two nights ago, you were in his face the second he walked through the door with these two." Lena crossed her arms, slitting her eyes at Grog as well.

Grog's face twisted—not with his usual arrogance, but with something rawer. Shame, maybe. Or desperation.

"Look, I know what I did, alright?" He snapped, but his usual edge was gone. His fists tightened at his sides. "But Silas... He's the one who looked out for me in this town, the only one who gave a damn about any of us." His voice cracked slightly. "I ain't about to let him burn because I was too much of a coward to—"

One of his men—a stocky fellow with a crooked nose—stepped forward. "Grog's right. Silas saved my sister when she had a fever last winter. Didn't ask for anything in return." He swallowed hard. "We all owe him in our own way."

Meara, silent until now, stepped away from the table, watching Grog with an unreadable expression.

She then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Debts and guilt make for poor allies," Meara said slowly before reopening her eyes. "But sometimes... they're all we have."

Her eyes moved to Sylvanie and Celestia. "The boy is already gone. Standing here arguing won't change that." Her gaze sharpened. "Grog—take your men. Follow Oreon to the square. Don't engage unless you have to. Your job is to get Silas out. Don't do anything rash."

Grog nodded jerkily, already moving toward the door. His men fell in behind him.

'And Grog?" Meara's voice stopped him at the threshold. He turned, and for a moment, the old woman's expression softened—just barely. "Don't make me regret this."

Grog swallowed hard. "Yes, ma'am." Then he was gone, his footsteps pounding down the street.

Sylvanie watched them go, her arms crossed tightly at her chest. "I still don't trust him."

"Neither do I," Celestia admitted quietly, her gaze lingering on the broken doorway. "But right now...trust isn't a luxury we have."

Meara turned to face the sisters, her expression hardening once more. "The docks. Gretta's there with the townspeople. If the Order has them cornered..." She didn't finish the thought. She didn't need to. "That's where they'll need you most. I'd hate to ask this of you two, but..."

"You don't need to ask." Celestia turned her gaze towards Meara. "You've shown us nothing but kindness, along with Gretta and Silas. We won't let either of them fall." She finished, turning to look at her sister. "We'll make sure everyone is safe at the docks—"

"—Then make sure that idiot doesn't die." Sylvanie finished as Celestia nodded her head, followed by Meara, who nodded slowly.

"Good, off you go then, but be careful. There's no telling what kind of tricks the Order has up their sleeves." She turned away for a moment before stopping. "And girls..." She paused, catching the attention of both Celestia and her sister. "As I'm sure you are already aware, humans aren't the only race that occupies the Order. You're going to face some uncomfortable truths." She glanced over her shoulder at the two elves. "Don't hesitate."

Meara's warning weighed on the sisters as their eyes met. They remembered Rot—the corrupted dark elf who wielded decay—and how he had attacked them moments after they escaped the fortress with Oreon.

Sylvanie's expression hardened once again. "We know..." She spoke.

"What will you do?" Celestia asked. "Surely, you would have to hide as well. You and Lena will be in—"

"Don't worry about us," Meara stated. "I have a few things to work out here; you two just run along and make sure the people in the docks are safe."

Celestia hesitated for a moment as Sylvanie grabbed her sister's wrist, tugging gently. "Celestia. We don't have time."

Celestia nodded slowly, but she kept her eyes on Meara. "Please...be careful." She said softly to Meara before allowing Sylvanie to pull her toward the door.

Outside, Sylvanie swept her gaze across the streets. Nothing seemed unusual, at least by the standards she had formed during their few days in town. Beside her, Celestia reached the same conclusion. Without a word, the sisters turned left and raced toward the docks, moving far faster than any ordinary human.

Meanwhile, still standing in the tavern. Lena looked up at her Meara. "Grandmother, what are you planning?" she asked.

Meara only walked to the back room, a pace in her step as she walked through the door. "If the Order is attacking the way I think they are, then we're not going to get out of this without some careful planning," Meara said as she walked towards a chest, gently tucked in the back behind a bunch of the tavern's junk that nobody would think twice about looking at.

"You don't mean—" Lena looked at her grandmother.

Opening the chest, Meara stuck her hand in, fiddling around for something before she turned her head back towards Lena.

"Lena, I need you to do something for me—"

Meanwhile, Oreon reached the square and rushed toward Silas's shop. As he drew closer, he spotted Silas lying face up outside, one arm draped across his chest.

"Silas!" Oreon screamed, his legs burning as he skidded to a halt, dropping to his knees beside the old man. He quickly moved one arm behind Silas's head and gently sat him up a bit.

"Silas! Silas, can you hear me?!" His voice cracked.

The old shopkeeper's face was bruised, a thin trail of blood running from his lip. His breathing was shallow and ragged, but he was breathing. Oreon felt a wave of relief crash through him, though it was short-lived.

Silas's eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first before settling on Oreon's face. A weak, pained smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Boy..." He wheezed. "You shouldn't have...The Order." He tried to lift his arm but couldn't.

"Shut up and save your strength, old man." Oreon kept him propped up. "What happened? Who attacked you? Where's the order?"

Silas coughed a bit before settling back down. "Those Zealots came storming in, asking their stupid questions...I told them nothing." Silas responded. "However..." He coughed again. "Since I wouldn't talk, they decided to prove a point." He finished his sentence with another ragged cough.

"Damn it, Silas..." Oreon looked him over, checking for injuries. Then something disturbed him. He looked around frantically—the square was eerily empty. Too empty. Where were the knights Grog mentioned? Where was the Order if they stormed the city?

A footstep struck the cobblestones, making Oreon freeze as he held Silas upright.

"Well, well, well, runt..." Oreon heard Grog's voice and the snickers of his men as they drew their knives, sneering at him.

Oreon's blood turned cold as he slowly looked back, still cradling Silas against his chest. Grog stood behind him with his familiar sneer restored, every trace of fear and desperation gone.

"Grog..." Oreon's voice came out low and dangerous as he gently laid Silas down and stood up to face the group. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"What's it look like?" Grog twirled his short sword between his fingers, his men fanning out to surround them. "Making a deal. You of all people should have known that the Order would pay good coin for those knife-ears that you brought in." He smirked. "More than enough to get out of this backwater town and live in the capital, a no-brainer if you ask me."

Oreon's fist clenched at his sides, his knuckles going white. The betrayal stung—not because he'd trusted Grog, but because he'd been stupid enough to let his guard down.

"You...you sold them out..." Oreon spoke in a trembling whisper, his rage barely restrained. "You sold everyone out. The entire town! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Grog shrugged, utterly unbothered. "Silas was just...collateral. Had to make it look convincing, didn't I?" He gestured lazily with his blade. "Besides, the old fool should've just answered their questions. Would've saved himself a beating and being chained up inside his shop."

Oreon's eyebrow lifted at Grog's final remark. "Chained up...inside his..." Behind Oreon, a groggy noise suddenly arose, and his eyes widened in shock. He slowly turned, only to see Silas's body shifting and morphing. It wasn't Silas anymore, but a slim, petite, feminine figure with pale gray skin, standing a little taller than Oreon. Her long, gray hair cascaded down her back, and she was clad in the black robes of the Order. Then her ears, unmistakably Elven.

The figure stretched languidly, rolling her shoulders as if waking from a pleasant nap. "Mm...That form was so cramped and stiff." She popped a few of her bones. "You humans age so terribly," She finished as she opened her eyes. They were red, the same as Sylvanie's, but with a holy cross embedded in her pupils.

Oreon stumbled back, his heart hammering in his chest. The woman--no, the elf- regarded him with an unsettling smile, her head tilting to the side as she observed him, almost like she was savoring his reaction.

"Ah...there it is." She spoke calmly. "That look of betrayal. Confusion, probably, has yet to understand what you just walked into." A chill went down Oreon's back as she laughed at him before bringing her gaze back down upon him. "You humans are always so gullible." She smirked, showing her pointy teeth a bit as Oreon looked at her, fear etched on his face, with another one of the Order's high-ranking soldiers in front of him and Grog and his men behind, trapping him on all sides.