Haven (2)

The cloaked man's companion seemed to be a meek girl who appeared out of place amidst the rough surroundings of the worn-out pub. She was slight and delicate, with a hood that obscured most of her features. When she moved, she did so with a nervous grace, her eyes darting around the room as if she were perpetually on edge.

"If only that vixen didn't cause your boss so much trouble, we might snatch it up before you guys do" the girl muttered under her breath, her voice soft and snarky.

The cloaked man shot her a warning glance. "Your provocations won't work, and don't talk about our boss here," he hissed, his tone sharp. "Unless you want to visit your grave early."

The girl's response was unexpected. She let out a quick, haughty laugh—a fleeting sound that barely escaped her lips before she caught herself, a hand quickly covering her mouth.

"Oops, how impolite. Please mind my bad manners. I won't make such a mistake next time," she said with mock sincerity, her words laced with sarcasm.

It was a stifled chuckle, almost like a reflex in response to the tension that had settled between her and the cloaked man. Her eyes darted around the dimly lit pub, seemingly unaware or uncaring of the atmosphere she had just disrupted. There was a hint of mischief in her demeanor, as if she found amusement in testing the limits of their interaction.

The cloaked man's expression hardened at her laughter, his gaze boring into her, silently commanding her to regain her composure. Despite the rebuke in his eyes, the girl's lips twitched with a lingering smirk, a trace of defiance still evident.

"Anyways I told you about the chalice being missing due to your boss aiding our division at some points, now i'm done here i cant stand being in proximity with you"

"Hohoho, are you trying to pick a fight, Iskal-"

 Without a word, the cloaked man swiftly drew a blade from its sheath, a sword that gleamed with an intricate pattern of swirling silver and black, its edge honed to a deadly sharpness. The blade hummed with an almost otherworldly resonance as the man held it inches from the girl's delicate neck, the metal reflecting the dim light of the pub in menacing glimmers.

The girl's smirk faltered slightly, her skin mere millimetres from being pierced by the cold steel now pressed against her skin. Despite her earlier jests, there was a flicker of apprehension in her eyes as she faced the imminent threat. The air around them grew thick with tension, the pub falling silent as patrons watched the standoff unfold with bated breath.

The tension in the pub thickened as the blade poised at the girl's delicate neck, the air heavy with the imminent threat of violence. The patrons held their breath, the murmur of conversation dwindling into uneasy silence. It was then that Durin, the burly proprietor, stepped forward with a commanding presence that seemed to fill the cramped space.

His stern expression bore down on the man and the girl alike, his massive form imposing and authoritative. Without a word, he raised a hand, and a ripple of power surged through the air, emanating from his imposing figure. Suddenly, the atmosphere around them seemed to shift, as if the very walls of the pub were alive with a crackling energy.

"No fighting in my bar," Durin's voice resonated with a deep, commanding tone that brooked no argument. As he spoke, the tables began to tremble, plates clattering, and mugs swaying on their wooden surfaces. A serpent-like aura of magical power coiled around the bar, casting a subtle yet undeniable influence over its patrons.

The effect was palpable. The tension that had gripped the pub moments ago seemed to ebb away, replaced by a wary calm as the patrons felt the weight of Durin's magical authority pressing down upon them. The air hummed with the residual energy of his command, a silent warning that further disturbances would not be tolerated.

The man hesitated, his gaze locked with the girl's, the blade still poised but now wavering under the formidable presence of Durin's magic. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he retracted the sword and sheathed it at his side. The girl's smirk faltered slightly, a feeling of relief flickering in her eyes as she straightened herself, regaining her composure.

For the first time since their tense exchange began, she regarded Iskal seriously, her voice steady despite the recent peril. "Watch yourself. The stakes are higher than you think."

With that cryptic warning, she turned on her heel and walked away, her movements graceful yet purposeful as she disappeared into the shadows of the pub. The hooded man stood silently, his expression unreadable, his cloak swirling behind him as he too departed, leaving a lingering sense of unresolved tension in his wake.

Aria and I exchanged a glance from our seats at the bar. The encounter had revealed glimpses of a deeper conflict intertwined with the mystery of the missing chalice. It was clear that the hooded man and the girl were not ordinary adversaries—they were players in a dangerous game where each move carried profound consequences.

"What now?" I whispered to Aria, my voice barely audible over the subdued murmur of the pub.

Aria's eyes were fixed on the spot where the man and the girl had been standing by mere seconds ago. "Let's go back to the inn and start your training, I found out the information that I was seeking.

A few minutes went buy and the quiet atmosphere slowly disappeared as the pub gradually returned to its usual clamor, Aria and I finished our drinks before making way back to the inn . It had just approached evening time, and already we found ourselves embroiled in a web of problems and conspiraces that stretched beyond the worn-out pub of Haven.

With each passing moment, the mystery of the chalice loomed larger inside my mind.

'For two factions to be fighting over it surely it must be a splendid item.'