The next day, 5 AM.
Their night at the tavern went as wonderful as they thought. Melissa allowed for them to stay there for free until they were able to gain better footing now that they were no longer held captive by Gabe and his men.
Grace was first to wake up.
The mattress of the tavern pressing against his back, enveloping it and his body—it felt like dozens of years since he slept peacefully. Not even when he was in the tavern back in the dungeon did he feel this safe, this comforted.
Perhaps it was due to the lack of paranoia, the pressure that had weighed on his mind and body for the many days that they had been running from Gabe in that dungeon.
Grace looked at the balcony—the sun had yet to rise.
The blanket of dark-blue — closer to that of the color black — still hung over them like a promise. Grace turned his gaze, his eyes looking at the peaceful states of Miller and David.
David had offered to sleep on the floor the previous day, allowing for Grace and Miller to sleep on the soft mattresses. The latter tried turning down the offer, wanting to say that it was okay—David did not waste any time to shut it down.
Now that I think about it... David is older than us... a few years, I'm guessing. His eyes scanned David's face carefully. Indeed, David had a face a bit more mature than them, and the air around him spoke of much the same.
Grace's lips broke out in a small, delicate smile. He got out of bed, subduing the noise of his steps as best as possible, and exiting much the same.
The tavern itself was quiet.
Very few customers, and the few that were present were early-birds getting their cups of coffee instead of drowning themselves with liquor. Grace maneuvered from high above, the gentle candles swaying as he walked from the entrance of their room to the staircase.
Melissa was still up, seemingly having taken over the very early morning shift.
Grace seated himself at the main bar, a small even yawn escaping his lips.
"Coffee?" Melissa asked while she was cleaning a plate.
"Yes. Black."
"Black... didn't expect that."
Grace merely hummed. He didn't particularly think preferring black coffee was something that he viewed as "refined taste," because it really wasn't.
Really, the only reason why he started drinking black coffee was because the amount of calories it contained was essentially zero. As well as it being incredibly useful to satiate hunger for a certain period of time because of the caffeine.
Melissa served the black coffee to him, sliding it gently on the counter so it was within arms reach of Grace. Reeling the cup to him, the intense dark-brown liquid swiveled of-so gently, early spilling on the counter.
Now in front of him, the steam — hot, a bit comforting — curled in the air without aim.
"So what is next for you three?" She asked while drying the plate that she had just cleaned.
Grace let her words hang for a few seconds.
"Any work that can be done around town?"
Melissa frowned, shaking her head from side-to-side.
"There is usually," Melissa slid the plate on the dish rack. "But the amount of quests available right now are considerably low because we're closing in on the peak of summer. That's usually when people are out and about."
Right. Grace thought.
"Had you been here a week or two earlier, you could have signed up for this tournament that is held once a year. Unfortunately, sign-ups are closed now."
Grace groaned quietly.
Just our luck—absolutely nothing to get money. Grace sipped on the black coffee, his tongue flooding with both bitterness and the slight burning sensation that accompanied it.
"The tournament starts two days from now. I would suggest sticking it through and wait until after the tournament ends. That is when quests usually 'restock' some would say."
Downing the black coffee not long after, Grace went on with his day.
~~~
Melissa had said the amount of quests available to them was considerably low. Keyword being: low. Which meant that there was quests available, but it was most likely some of the quests that were left unwanted.
Which probably meant that the cohort would not enjoy doing them.
Not like that had any choice either way.
Which is why, the very next day, they found themselves walking a few dogs.
"For a noble," David spoke from behind Grace as the latter held onto the leashes attached to two of the dogs he was looking over. "You certainly don't complain about the mundane."
"Mundane?"
"Yeah—like the shitty non-noble activities."
Grace shrugged as the dogs tugged at their leash.
"Well," Grace paused as he managed his pace on the streets. "Can't always have what we want, can we?"
For example, Grace would kill to be in bed right now—but he can't. Because money doesn't appear out of thin air without there being the necessary steps taken.
"How many Notes in total do we need?" Miller perked up.
Grace glanced to his side, watching as Miller had difficulties reeling in one of the dogs that tried straying to the main part of the street.
Grace glanced away, his smile thinner than the side-view of paper.
"The train fare is 10 Notes individually. We also have to pay Melissa back for the nights that we are staying in her tavern for free. And each night is 5 Notes."
David groaned loudly from behind, maneuvering around a couple that was hindering his way.
"In other word: we just need to get as much Notes as possible in the littlest amount of time."
That day—
They gained 13 Notes.
~~~
From the outside world, Serene Harbor was viewed as this paradise; it was an island decorated by tourist and relaxation for vacation.
Inside—none of that was the case.
The tourists enjoyed their stay, but that was it; they were only there for a moment, but the residents were there for good. Regardless of how things looked, nothing was ever truly okay.
This town — this island — was one that ran on the greed of the mighty.
Cyclical, one that took just as much as it gave. Still, the civilians accepted as is—because it meant they would live.
However, within this darkness that curled intensely, there was still something bright. Radiant. Shining like the reflection of gold.
Elis Fay.
His hair, a brilliant yellow, stretched long like a snake's length. An angular face with cheekbones that slightly protruded, forming an illusion of hollowness to his cheeks.
His chainmail armor clad his body, an axe attached to his back. Atop of a horse, marching down the streets of Serene Harbor—he commanded a certain attention.
"Elis!"
A child cheered from the side, stopping their mother in order to gaze at the figure before them. Other did much the same.
His name reverberated along the streets like a chant or an incantation for magic. The magical hum of his name, gave manifestation of a thought of importance.
Elis Fay.
A heroic figure that resided in the walls of Serene Harbor. The victorious champion of the tournament of the last four years.
A name that was known to Serene Harbor.
But a nobody outside of it.