Afternoon in a tavern, Stone Town District.
Orange sunlight entered through the dusty window. The rays highlighted the cigarette smoke drifting slowly in the dim tavern air. The smell of stale beer and damp wood hung in the room. The atmosphere was tense. Patrons drank in silence, speaking in low whispers.
In a dark corner of the room, Bayren sat alone. A half-empty glass of ale rested in front of him. He was reading the Tyelven Daily newspaper. The main headline was written in thick black ink: "MARTIS DEAD. PHILANTHROPIC BUSINESSMAN BRUTALLY MURDERED."
At the next table, three weary-looking patrons were whispering. Their voices were barely audible over the clinking of glasses.
"Have you heard?" the first patron whispered,
"It’s not just that Martis is dead. Word from Dark Town says Martis himself framed that Starfall guy."
The second patron, a thinner man, snorted. "I heard that. Disgusting. Using a new fighter for his dirty work. No wonder this city’s gone to hell."
"But," said the first patron, "here’s the crazy part. My man in the City Guard says... the real Starfall, is most likely dead. Probably killed trying to escape Dark Town on Friday."
The third patron, who had been silent, leaned in. His eyes darted around. "Then... who massacred the Association? Who killed the Iron Fangs and the Wild Dogs?"
The first patron lowered his voice again, his eyes scanning the quiet tavern. "An impersonator. Someone much stronger. They’re saying... it was a shadow demon. Just using Starfall’s mask to cover its tracks."
Bayren, who heard every word, continued reading the line about Martis’s death without changing his expression. His face remained flat.
He folded the newspaper neatly, placing it beside the glass. He finished the rest of his drink in one quick gulp, then put a few silver coins on the sticky wooden table.
After that, he stood up. His dark cloak rustled softly. He walked out of the tavern, ignoring the cynical stares from a few other patrons.
Bayren walked casually on the stone streets of Stone Town. The sky was turning a deep orange. The warm afternoon air touched his skin. Bayren’s steps paused for a moment at the edge of the street. He looked towards the sea. The water’s surface looked calm, reflecting the color of the sky. Several large merchant ships were preparing to leave, their sails still furled. Closer to the shore, a few small fishermen were pulling in their nets.
"What now.." he muttered softly to himself.
He then continued his journey, blending back into the crowd.
He saw several city guards and some people in all blue military uniforms patrolling. Their presence made the city atmosphere slightly tense. Elsewhere, merchants in the open market began packing up their goods. The sound of wooden cart wheels scraping over stone and the last shouts offering discounts on vegetables could be heard.
Bayren walked casually among them, both hands hidden inside his coat pockets. He turned at a busy intersection.
BUMP!
A man walking from the opposite direction bumped his shoulder hard.
"Oh, my my bad man." The man had jet black hair with a few thin scars on his face. It was Fyar.
Fyar immediately took a step back, slightly startled by the impact. Next to him, a girl with green hair stopped.
"What is it, Fyar?" the girl said.
"It’s nothing, Illya. I just accidentally bumped into this man," Fyar said.
"Ah." Illya looked at Bayren and bowed her head slightly. "Please excuse us."
Behind them, Zaefal and Rasie stopped.
"Tch, careless again, purple-hair!" Rasie said.
purple?
Beside her, Zaefal just observed Bayren with a wary gaze.
Bayren said nothing. He just raised his right hand and patted Fyar’s shoulder once. After that, he continued on his way, walking past the four of them as if nothing had happened.
As Bayren began to walk away, Zaefal finally spoke. "That man... is strange."
"Strange?" Fyar asked. He looked back, watching Bayren’s back disappear into the crowd. "Yeah... I also felt something was off about him."
Zaefal narrowed his eyes and put his hand to his mouth. "His aura... is strange. I can’t explain it. But... he’s strange."
Rasie slapped Zaefal’s shoulder hard, making him flinch slightly. "Oh, come on. He’s just a passerby. Besides, you’re always surrounded by strange people, Zaefal."
"But he..."
"Forget it, don’t overthink it," Rasie cut in. "Our last meeting is done. Better to think about what you’re going to buy with those ten thousand gold coins."
"Rasie is right." Illya looked at Zaefal and Fyar. "Maybe because you’ve both experienced too many dangerous things, you’ve become a little paranoid?" Illya then smiled at them both. "Relax once in a while."
...
On the other side of the city, Bayren continued walking. He left the busy city streets and headed towards the main cargo dock. Here, the atmosphere was different. The sharp smell of salted fish and the thick, pungent odor of ship tar stung his nose. The rhythmic sound of waves breaking against the wooden pillars of the dock mixed with the shouts of the dockworkers lifting heavy crates.
Bayren saw a large merchant ship preparing to depart. A captain with a thick beard was shouting orders to his crew to raise the sails.
"Sir. Where is this ship headed?" Bayren asked.
The captain turned. His eyes looked tired, surrounded by wrinkles. "Rituk. Transporting cloth and spices. Leaves in an hour."
Rituk. Perfect. Bayren then reached into his pocket and took out a leather pouch. The soft jingle of gold coins was heard from within. "Can I join? I will give you two hundred gold coins."
The captain’s eyes widened when he saw the pouch. He nodded quickly. "Of course. Get on board."
Bayren stepped onto the tilting deck of the ship. He handed the leather pouch to the captain. "Here," he said.
The captain took the pouch, felt its weight, and opened it slightly to confirm the contents. His eyes glinted at the sight of the gold. After that, he nodded. "Find a place to lean on. If anyone asks, answer that you’re an apprentice."
Soon, his crew’s shouts were heard.
"Captain! There’s a problem here!"
"Captain, over here, dammit!"
The captain turned his body and answered, "I’m coming, I’m coming, damn it!" The captain sighed and turned back to where Bayren had been standing. "Alright, kid, I have to..."
When the captain turned, Bayren had disappeared from his spot. The captain was puzzled for a moment. He looked around the busy deck, but the dark-cloaked figure was gone. However, after looking again at the gold coins still in his hand, he chose not to think about it too much.
"Well, at least he pays." After that, he turned and walked toward his men.