Wooden Box, Mirian and lots of mercenaries

The sun rose in Sinith, painting the silvery sky with its golden light. The sunlight was warm like a mother's gentle touch, and the breeze was cool enough to refresh everyone it touched. Draven opened his eyes to the sound of early birds chirping. The golden sunlight peeked through the dirty brown curtains. His room was a dump. Other than a squeaky bed, a round table, a broken leg chair, and a candle holder, it had nothing. It was barely worth three etherials.

"Are you awake?" Draven heard Sarah's voice in his head.

"Hmm," Draven stretched his muscles. The sunlight illuminated his body. Every inch of it was riddled with scars. But the chiseled muscles made him extremely dashing. Draven fell to the ground, starting to warm up his body. He started his day with a hundred pushups.

"It'd be nice for you to say good morning," Sarah complained.

"Then why didn't you say that witch?" Margoth appeared over Draven's shoulder.

"Oh, you're there," Sarah snarled.

"You sound like you wish I am not," said Margoth.

"What's the matter?" asked Draven while doing his pushups.

"Yesterday, I picked up chatter on the UFH servers. Apparently, they are sending a group of heroes to Sinith,"

"Are they after me?" asked Draven.

"I don't think that's the case. If I had to guess, I would say it's something to do with the eternal fire," said Sarah.

"You have a clue about when they will arrive?" asked Margoth.

"They are keeping it a secret. I can do more digging and try to find out more about them,"

"You do that," said Draven.

"And what are you going to do?" asked Sarah.

Instead of answering Sarah, Draven focused on the heavy footsteps outside.

"They are here sooner than I expected," said Margoth with a devilish grin.

"Who is there?" asked Sarah.

"My breakfast," Margoth chuckled as Draven cut the connection. He walked toward the windows before peeking through the curtains. The streets outside were empty except for the horses standing in the alleyways. Draven returned to his bed, picked up his suit of armor, and put it on.

He left his room to the tavern down. When he climbed down the stairs, the place was filled with people. All of them wore crimson red armor. The Flaming Phoenix mercenaries were there to welcome Draven. Among the mercenaries, some of them were gigantic seven feet tall men armed to the teeth. They were double or thrice the size of an average human. A mere sight of them could scare anyone.

However, Draven was calm. He went to the bar table and took the only empty chair in the tavern. Unlike yesterday, the bartender looked pale. He shivered from head to toe.

The one on the left of Draven wore a hood and cloak covering his face. In stark contrast to him, the one on the right had a bright smile on his face. His golden hair danced around his shoulder. He enjoyed freshly brewed ale with his long silver sword on the table.

"I will have a glass of water please," said Draven. He was nonchalant despite everything.

"Not one for the hot drinks eh?" the golden-haired mercenary asked Draven. The mercenary was charming. With his hazel eyes, perfect jaw, and trimmed beard, no one would take him for a mercenary. However, Draven could see a killer in his eyes. Regardless of how handsome he looked, the mercenary had the eyes of a predator.

"I don't drink," said Draven.

"Nice habits. Why did you include killing people in your habits? Or is that something you'd do when you go to a new place?" asked the mercenary, sipping his drink. The bartender's heart skipped a beat. As a result, he dropped the glass in his hand. Glass pieces shattered on the ground.

"So sorry, my lords," He quickly bowed several times.

"Don't make your customer wait. Fetch another glass and pour the man his water," said the mercenary,

The bartender quickly grabbed another glass and placed it before Draven. He poured water into the cup.

"You messed them up pretty good. So here I am, talking to you. Let's start with your name, shall we?"

"Draven," Draven answered him.

"Draven, nice name. They call me Ryker. You know most of them don't even know my name because they don't get to see me. Maybe once or twice, but it's rare,"

"Your point being?" asked Draven. He still didn't turn his head to look the guy in the eyes. Instead, Draven just took a sip of his water.

"My point is, you killed my men and brought me out of my comfort. So what do you think we shall do about it?" asked Ryker.

"You seem like a calm and reasonable person. Are you? Are you a calm and reasonable person?" asked Draven instead of answering Ryker's question.

"It's not the answer to my question, but yes. I am a calm and reasonable person. Otherwise, we won't be having this conversation," said Ryker.

"Then let me hear what you have in mind?" said Draven. His words put a grin on Ryker's face.

He emptied his ale mug in one single gulp. After placing the mug on the table beside his sword, he began to talk.

"This can go three ways. My boss is a kind guy. So he's willing to look the other way if you leave the kingdom right away. That's the first option. The second option is, this is my favorite, you join our ranks. You'll get five thousand etherials a week, plus any girls you want. Simply put, this will make you the entire Sinith your oyster,"

Draven finished his water, so he signaled the bartender to refill his glass.

"If you don't choose either, then we come to the third way," Ryker ran his fingers through his sword.

"We will kill you, and it's not gonna be pretty. It's only fair what you've done to my guys,"

"Aren't you afraid Ryker? You must have asked the villagers,"

"You're a gifted one. We know that. But that doesn't make everyone afraid of you, Draven. In fact, I brought a guardian angel with me,"

As Ryker turned around, several men dragged a boy with a cloak around his head. They lifted up the cloak to reveal Mirian with a cloth around his mouth. Mirian looked scared as hell. But when he saw Draven, his face lit up.

"Hrrrrmmmmm," Mirina tried to say something, but no words came out of his mouth.

After they brought Mirian, the mercenaries carried a wooden box and placed it in the center of the room. It had several runes and designs engraved all around. Everyone who stood a few inches away from the box heard an otherworldly whistling noise coming from the inside.

"I am pretty sure you don't want me to introduce that boy. You might know about that too but let me tell you what that can do," Ryker pointed his finger at the wooden box with an ear-to-ear grin.

"We call that bad boy, the leech. You probably knew why we named it leech. But I'll tell you why for our little friend over there, it was created by the mages of the Great Scarlet mountain. The Sorcerer King Benedict himself graced the box with his intricate runes and magic. You know what it does?" Ryker asked, looking at Mirian.

"A little bit of scholarly stuff first. The air around us is filled with etherian energy. But only the gifted one can use it. Hence, they could do cool shit. Some do good, and some go murdering people, like our Draven here. So the great mages of the great scarlet mountain one day had a thought. What if we can stop a gifted one from ruining a perfectly good place? The answer was that box right there," Ryker paused for a moment and went on.

"When activated, that box will leech all the etherian energy in the air, taking the gift from a gifted one," said Ryker.

"I am not a numbers guy. But without your powers, the odds will be against you, my friend,"

"You conveniently omitted how to activate the box. Do your men know you brought a scapegoat with you? You and I both know he's not here to fuel the box," said Draven, looking over his shoulder at Mirian. Draven knew very well how the box worked. In fact, he knew the mages who created the box were sent to the gallons. Unfortunately, they made several of these boxes before they were stopped. Draven had dealt with one in Lotus. Therefore he knew how it worked.

"He'll be compensated well. Besides, we will only activate it if you don't choose one of the first two ways. Think about that boy before making your decision. He seemed to be an admirer of you. Little brat ran away from his home, searching for you. Two lives depend on your answer,"

"Twenty-six," said Draven.

"Twenty-six lives. That's how many of you are there in this tavern,"

Ryker signaled as the guy standing beside the box cut his hand and poured blood onto the box. As soon as the blood touched the wooden surface, the runes radiated a faint glow.

"It's enough to keep you from teleporting anywhere near the box. You know where I am going with this, right?" asked Ryker.

Draven finally finished the water in his glass and turned his gaze toward Ryker.

"This is gonna hurt,"