Chapter 17
A few minutes later, the carriage drew to a halt in front of the Vald Restaurant. The establishment stood as a grand architectural pillar within Valdwess City, its imposing oak doors flanked by intricate archways and cascading ivy. Rich, savory aromas drifted outward from the open entry, causing Eldern's stomach to emit a loud, protesting rumble.
"So this is the place?" Elina asked, stepping down onto the cobblestones.
Leron offered a confident, reassuring nod. "The food here is exceptional, my lady." He dipped his head into a crisp, deferential bow. "Enjoy your meal, Countess Elina, Young Master Eldern, and Young Lady Elyra."
Elina smiled politely. "Thank you, Leron."
"I'll be waiting outside," Leron replied smoothly, stepping aside to hold the door open.
"Alright then."
Free of suspicion, Elina ushered the children across the threshold. The heavy doors swung shut behind them, sealing off the clamor of the street.
The moment the latch clicked, the pleasant smile vanished from Leron's face. His features hardened into an expression of chilling indifference. He cast a sharp, calculating glance toward the restaurant's threshold.
Shadow Trace.
The words fell from his lips as a bare, inaudible breath.
Instantly, a pool of darkness detached itself from beneath his boots. Like a sentient, liquid predator, the shadow slithered soundlessly across the stone foundation, slipping beneath the crack of the restaurant door to latch directly onto Elina's trailing shadow inside.
"Not a soul noticed. Not even Elyra—a former elite assassin whose hyper-vigilance usually caught even the faintest shift in the air."
Leron's warm, amicable expression snapped instantly back into place. He stretched his arms lazily overhead. "Now, time to enjoy the afternoon."
He pitched his voice loud enough for the passing pedestrians to catch, projecting the exact image of a carefree guard enjoying a leisurely day off. Whistling a tuneless melody, he turned on his heel and strolled away into the bustling crowd.
Inside the restaurant, a vibrant, ambient warmth washed over the family. Every table was occupied, alive with the low hum of conversation, rich laughter, and the sharp clink of silverware against porcelain.
A waitress materialized beside their booth with an immaculate smile. "Please, take your time choosing, my lady." She presented a leather-bound menu to Elina, sliding a colorful, illustrated pamphlet across the grain to Eldern.
The boy's eyes went wide, reflecting the vibrant pictures of roasted meats and golden pastries. "Whoa! There are so many!"
Elina chuckled softly, turning her attention to the quiet child at her side. "What would Elyra like to eat?"
Elyra stared down at the menu. Columns of ornate, unfamiliar calligraphy stretched across the page. Unfortunately... she couldn't read a single word of it.
Relying entirely on instinct, her finger hovered over a rustic illustration before tapping it. "Eyya wants this one, Mama."
Elina peered down at the selection. A delicate, pan-seared river fish garnished with herbs. "An exquisite choice."
Across the table, Eldern had already made up his mind with absolute conviction. "Eldern wants this!" He proudly stabbed a finger at the drawing of a colossal, meat-laden platter dripping with juices.
The waitress hid a grin behind her notepad. "That is quite a large portion for a young man."
"Eldern is hungry," the boy declared, puffing out his small chest with solemn dignity.
Elina laughed, a musical sound that chased away the lingering shadows of the road, before looking up at the waitress. "We'll take one beef stew, one pan-seared fish, and the roasted meat platter for the boy, along with a pot of spiced tea."
The waitress jotted down the order with practiced speed. "I'll have your meals prepared immediately." With a polite curtsey, she retreated toward the kitchens.
For a fraction of a second, an icy prickle danced along the back of Elyra's neck—the unmistakable instinct that someone was watching them.
Just a few tables away, half-concealed by the dim lighting near the corner, a lone patron sat draped in a heavy, concealing hood. His gaze was locked fixedly on Elina's profile.
Another waiter hurried over, bowing slightly. "Sir, would you care to place an order?"
The man remained entirely motionless for a heartbeat, his dark eyes lingering on the family one last time before he abruptly pushed himself up from the bench. "My apologies."
The waiter blinked, caught off guard. "Sir?"
"I've changed my mind."
Without another word, the man dropped a handful of heavy silver coins onto the timber table. "I'm not eating here after all."
He spun on his heel and strode toward the exit, leaving the waiter staring blankly at the payment. "Uh... well then."
Outside, the mysterious patron burst through the doors, breaking into a rapid, purposeful stride as though desperate to swallow himself into the anonymity of the city streets.
At that exact moment—Thump.
He barreled directly into a broad-shouldered figure, sending a towering scoop of melting sweet cream careening dangerously close to the pavement.
"M-M-MY ICE CREAM!" Leron squawked, his hands flying into a flurry of desperate acrobatics to salvage the dessert before it met the dirt.
The mysterious man stumbled, scowling darkly. "Watch where you're going, idiot."
Leron immediately shrank back, bowing with theatrical contrition. "S-S-Sorry! My fault entirely."
The man clicked his tongue in deep disgust. "Don't you have eyes in that thick skull of yours?" Without waiting for an apology, he shoved past Leron's shoulder and vanished into the churning pedestrian tide.
Leron straightened up, dusting off his uniform with an exaggerated sigh. "Well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed."
He took a slow, casual lick of his salvaged ice cream, but the jovial warmth vanished entirely from his eyes. His gaze trailed the man's retreating silhouette, watching the hooded figure melt seamlessly into the crowds of Valdwess City. Leron stood frozen for a long, quiet moment before giving a lazy shrug.
"Probably nothing."
Yet, he didn't move an inch until the man's presence was entirely swallowed by the horizon.
Far outside the stone fortifications of Valdwess City, nestled beside a sun-baked stretch of cracked dirt road, sat a dilapidated tavern. Its cedar boards were warped and sun-bleached, completely ignored by passing merchants and travelers alike. Consequently, the interior was entirely devoid of patrons.
Well... almost.
A lone young man sat near the drafty window. Dark blond hair was gathered neatly into a loose ponytail, framing sharp purple eyes and a youthful, disarming face that made him look scarcely past his twentieth year. A half-empty bottle of amber liquor rested beside his elbow as he gazed out into the quiet stillness of the afternoon.
Moments later, the tavern's sole waitress shuffled out from the back, balancing a heavy wooden platter. "Here's the fried chicken you ordered, sir."
The rich, savory scent of garlic and crispy batter flooded the air. The young man's face lit up with a brilliant, genuine smile. "Oh! Thank you so much."
The waitress froze dead in her tracks. The sheer intensity of his smile caught her entirely off guard, painting a furious crimson across her cheeks. "N-No problem at all!" she stammered, slamming the plate down with clumsy haste. "If... if you need anything else, just holler."
"I will. Thank you." He nodded politely.
Fiercely embarrassed, the waitress practically bolted back toward the kitchen before she could make a complete fool of herself.
Left in solitude once more, the young man reached down and picked up a golden piece of chicken, taking a slow, deliberate bite.
Crunch.
A look of pure, unadulterated bliss settled over his features. "This place is severely underrated."
Then—BANG!
The front doors blew inward on splintered hinges, the deafening crash shattering the tavern's quiet atmosphere. The young man didn't even bother lifting his eyes from his plate.
A dozen heavy-footed men poured into the room, reeking of sweat, cheap ale, and iron. Their leather gear was scuffed and poorly maintained, and several hauled heavy, bulging burlap sacks over their broad shoulders. One look was all it took to identify them as the cutthroats who had terrorized the southern trade routes.
"See?!" the lead raider bellowed, throwing his head back in a raucous laugh. "I told you nobody patrols this godforsaken road!"
"HAHAHA!" The rest of the pack roared in agreement, stomping across the floorboards.
"Perfect spot! Absolutely perfect!"
They dragged three heavy oak tables together, slamming their gear down with deafening force. One of them yanked a heavy leather pouch from his belt, dumping a glittering cascade of stolen silver coins across the wood, while another tossed down a fistful of blood-stained jewelry. Their faces twisted into greedy, triumphant smirks.
"That merchant didn't even know what hit him!"
"Cried like a stuck pig, he did!"
"HAHAHA!"
"Count 'em out, let's see what our cut is!"
The leader unfastened the mouth of his canvas sack and peered inside. His eyes dilated like dinner plates. "We're rich, boys! We're actually rich!"
The tavern erupted into manic, deafening celebrations, the men pounding their fists against the tables and draining flagons of stolen wine. Near the counter, the young waitress shrank back into the shadows, her hands clamped tightly over her mouth as pure, suffocating terror gripped her heart.
Amidst the roaring chaos, the young dark blond hair man by the window simply reached for another piece of chicken.
Crunch.
His gaze remained fixed entirely on his meal, acting as though the dozen armed cutthroats surrounding him occupied an entirely different plane of reality.
"Terrifying, Sylpha," he muttered softly into the empty air, his voice pitched so low that not even the wind caught it.
The raiders continued their drunken jubilee, completely oblivious to the doom sitting ten feet away.
The young man tilted his bottle back, washing down the meal with a swallow of liquorThe young man tilted his bottle back, washing down the meal with a swallow of liquor. A faint, disbelieving smile touched the corners of his lips.
"How did you even know?" he whispered to himself, taking another unhurried bite.
"That's just scary."
To be Continued...