"My name is Lucca, and I belong to the Broccoli race… that is, I'm a broccoli," the old man announced proudly, though his voice was still interrupted by hiccups.
"Does it seem so?" Mok responded in a professional tone, hiding a hint of irony. Lucca wore a somewhat worn maroon suit, and his vibrant green hair fell in small, wavy curls over his forehead.
"I see… Your form is different from ours," Mok commented, striving to maintain a respectful attitude despite the odd situation.
"Are you sure you're alright? It seems like you've had quite a bit to drink," Mok asked, lightly furrowing his brow as he caught another strong whiff of alcohol emanating from the elderly man.
"No, no, nonsense, son! Hic! Hic! I may drink, but I have no issues. Someone at the tavern must've slipped something into my drink," Lucca replied, clumsily searching through his pockets. Suddenly, his expression shifted to one of concern. "They stole from me! Damn it, they've taken my cane! It must've been those youngsters nowadays who like taking things without permission. I'd best be on my way, young butler. Hic! Hic!"
The old man attempted to stand, but his steps were unsteady, swaying side to side—not only due to the lingering effects of alcohol clouding his coordination but also because one leg limped noticeably, as if bearing the weight of an old injury poorly healed. Mok stopped him before he could stumble too far.
"Master Paltio would reprimand me if I didn't help this fellow," Mok thought to himself. "After all, Paltio always helps those in need. But this could also be some sort of elaborate trap which might endanger my young master. I can't let my guard down."
After careful consideration, Mok decided to intervene. "Mr. Lucca, you cannot leave in this state. Allow me to assist you. Please accompany me to the carriage," he said firmly but courteously.
The old man tried to dismiss the offer, waving his hands as if to push away the idea. "I don't want to bother you, young man. I'm fine; I just need... Hic! Hic! ... to find my cane."
Mok persisted, knowing the man wouldn't get far in his condition. With patience, he helped him walk toward the carriage, holding him firmly to prevent him from falling.
Upon reaching the vehicle, Lucca peered through the window and spotted Paltio sleeping peacefully inside, dressed in his elegant royal attire. The old man's eyes widened in surprise.
"This young man… he must surely be someone important. Is he your lord?" Lucca asked, pointing at Paltio with curiosity.
"He is," Mok replied, his tone filled with respect and pride for his prince.
Then, turning to the other side, Lucca spotted Lukeandria. The Red Shadow armor gleamed under the dim light, and the old man leaped back in fright.
"It's a soldier of the Red Shadows! This must surely be a trap!" Lucca exclaimed, his voice trembling with panic.
Mok quickly tried to calm him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's not a trap, sir. Please, stay quiet. Both are training in the mental plane and must not be disturbed."
To further reassure him, Mok decided to briefly summarize their journey while preparing a special brew. "Drink this. It will completely eliminate your intoxicated state and cleanse any poison from your system," he explained, offering a small steaming cup.
The old man hesitated at first, eyeing the liquid suspiciously. However, after a few seconds of deliberation, he took the cup and drank every last drop. Upon finishing, he felt his mind clearing and his balance slowly returning.
"I feel much better now. Thank you very much, young butler, for the potion you gave me," Lucca said, bowing slightly in gratitude.
"I see," Lucca said, nodding slowly as he processed the information Mok had provided. "So this is the prince of Avocadolia, and he's searching for the Scepter of Avocios. Something about that rings true… Those from that realm were the ones our god granted power to."
The old man stretched his neck with renewed energy, waving his hands back and forth as if preparing for battle. "Well, thank you for waking me up and helping me with my issue. I must leave; I need to go to the tavern and confront some spoiled brats."
Mok observed the elderly man, noticing he still walked with difficulty. He decided to intervene: "I'll assist you if it doesn't take us too far off course. We're heading toward the Realm of Reedalia."
Lucca quickly agreed. "If you're going that way, there's a route that can get you to that missing realm faster."
"That would be best. The prince doesn't have many days left," Mok murmured thoughtfully.
Both boarded the carriage, where Paltio, Lukeandria, and Rykaru remained asleep, immersed in their respective mental trainings. Though Rykaru was fully within the mental plane, Lucca didn't notice him, as his presence was nearly imperceptible from the physical world.
During the journey, Lucca gave precise directions while marveling at the vehicle with fascination. "What a fascinating mode of transport… I've never seen anything like it," he commented, running his hand over the luxurious finish of the carriage.
Before reaching what appeared to be a small, forgotten community, they decided to leave the vehicle in a safe place where no one could take it or harm Paltio. They walked toward the village, which seemed like an abandoned land, as if destined for oblivion. The streets were dusty, and the houses had a decrepit air, as though no one had cared to keep them in good condition for years.
Finally, they arrived at a building that looked on the verge of collapse. The roof was slanted, the walls cracked, and the sign above the door barely hanging on.
Lucca entered first, limping slightly. Inside, a burly man tended the bar, clearly the bartender and owner of the place. Beside him, a voluptuous woman—apparently his wife—cleaned glasses half-heartedly. Both belonged to the Cauliflower race, with pale green skin and characteristic bulbous forms.
Lucca approached the couple with a surprisingly serene and polite voice: "My fair lady, by any chance, did you see the cane I had with me? Or do you recall the companions I was with?"
The woman raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Are you referring to some red chili pepper youths who were with you? Well, I wouldn't know," she replied with an unfriendly expression.
"What if I offer you an incentive?" Lucca proposed, trying to sound convincing.
"You don't have any money, you old fool! You spent it all yesterday, don't you remember? So don't waste my time," the woman snapped, turning back to the counter.
"Sir, perhaps you saw them?" the bartender interjected, looking at Lucca slyly. "But if you give me some sort of incentive, maybe I'll tell you."
"Didn't you hear, or are you deaf, man? That old man has no money!" the woman interrupted, shooting her husband a withering glare.
Seeing that the situation wasn't going anywhere, Mok decided to intervene. He pulled a couple of coins from his pocket and placed them on the bar with a kind smile. "What do you think of this amount?" he asked, his tone calm but firm.
The bartender and his wife exchanged a quick glance before focusing their attention on Mok.
The couple eyed the coins greedily, but their expressions quickly shifted to a sneer of disdain. "Yeah, yeah, we might tell you something… But we don't like your kind," the woman spat, gesturing rudely at Mok.
"My kind?" Mok asked, confused, raising an eyebrow elegantly.
"We don't like rich snobs who think they're better just because they have money in these lands that belong to no one," the wife retorted disdainfully, giving Mok a venomous look as she noticed his gentle smile.
"Oops! I forgot to mention that, Mok. Around here, people don't like well-dressed rich folks, and they hate them even more if they come off as arrogant," Lucca interjected, scratching the back of his neck nervously.
"What do you mean, arrogant? I'm just smiling at them in good faith," Mok replied, trying to stay calm.
"Yeah, but things don't work that way around here," Lucca murmured, visibly uncomfortable.
The bartender whistled loudly, and immediately, several thugs from various races rose from the scattered tables. Some had deep scar marks, others sported intimidating tattoos, and a few even wore eye patches, looking like a band of outlaws gathered under one roof.
"I think we had bad luck coming this way, young man," Lucca whispered, moving closer to Mok with concern.
"This will be your grave, or you'll serve as our hostage, well-dressed and wealthy subject," the couple declared with a malicious smile.
"Men, get him!" the bartender shouted, pointing at Mok.
The thugs began to close in slowly, blocking any possible escape route. The atmosphere in the tavern grew tense, thick with hostility and implicit threats.