The sudden commotion drew everyone’s attention as a table was violently overturned, spilling mugs of ale and scattering coins onto the floor. A young man, burly and red-faced, loomed over a smaller woman who had been thrown to the ground. Her simple tunic was torn at the shoulder, and her face flushed with anger as she tried to scramble to her feet.
“You think you can wreck my goods and just walk away?!” the man bellowed, his voice booming over the clamor of the tavern. “You owe me, girl! Pay up, or I’ll make sure you never leave this city!”
The woman glared up at him, her lip trembling but defiant. “It was an accident! You pushed me—”
CRACK.
The young man’s boot connected with a wooden chair near her head, splintering it and silencing the room for a brief moment. The adventurers and mercenaries nearby glanced at the scene but quickly returned to their drinks and conversations, some even laughing under their breath.
Lianne tensed, her hand gripping her fork tightly. “Brother, we have to—”
“Do not put your nose into someone else’s matters, Lianne,” her brother said sharply, his tone low but firm. “The first rule of surviving in this world.”
“B-but…” She looked back at the woman, who was now cornered against the wall, her hands raised defensively as the man grabbed her by the collar.
“Just calm down,” her brother said, leaning back in his chair with calculated ease. “Look around. Neither the bartender nor the other adventurers are moving. If this wasn’t a normal occurrence here, wouldn’t they have acted already?”
Lianne glanced around the room. He was right. The bartender continued wiping mugs as if nothing was happening, and the other patrons either ignored the scene entirely or watched with mild interest, their faces showing no intention of intervening.
“…But she’ll get hurt,” Lianne whispered, her voice strained.
Her brother leaned forward, his eyes hard. “Most of the time, a stranger’s life is not worth risking yours over. Believe me, I’ve seen plenty of overzealous fools meet their ends trying to play the hero without the strength to back it up.”
“And… what’s the second rule of surviving?”
Lianne bit her lip, her gaze darting back to the woman. “Never assume that you’re strong enough to do anything,” she replied though her voice was low.
“Heh, you remembered it well.” Her brother replied.
Lianne’s fists clenched on the table. “But what will happen to that woman now?”
Her brother’s gaze shifted to the altercation, his face unreadable. “If she’s resourceful, she’ll find a way to get out of this. And if not… well, this is the kind of place where weakness doesn’t last long.”
As the man raised a fist, ready to strike the woman again, the door of the tavern swung open with a loud creak. A shadow fell over the room, and a deep voice rumbled, cutting through the din like thunder.
“That’s enough.”
The heavy door of the tavern swung open, and a robed figure stepped inside, her presence silencing the room even more effectively than the commotion before. She was tall and slender, her face obscured by the shadow of her hood. But the faint cascade of blonde hair spilling from beneath it caught the light, glinting like spun gold.
Her voice was calm and steady, yet it carried an undeniable edge. “Leave her alone.”
The burly man glanced over his shoulder, sneering at the new arrival. “This ain’t your business, woman!” His booming voice echoed, but the robed figure stood unmoving, unfazed by his bravado.
“…” The woman remained silent, her stillness unnerving.
The man took her silence as resignation. Smirking, he turned back to his prey, gripping the collar of the smaller woman’s tunic tighter. “See? Even the strangers know better than to mess with me!” He raised his hand, ready to strike.
SWOOSH!
The air chilled abruptly, and a sharp gust of cold swept through the room. A glint of something sharp streaked through the dimly lit tavern.
CRACK.
The man’s cry of pain was immediate as blood sprayed from his hand, the severed stump dropping uselessly to his side. His severed fingers hit the floor with a dull thud, while an icy shard embedded itself into the wall behind him, shattering into glittering fragments.
The burly man stumbled back, clutching his bleeding arm, his eyes wide in horror. “You—! You’re a mage!”
The robed woman stepped forward, her movements deliberate and commanding. Beneath the folds of her robe, a faint blue glow emanated from her hand, crackling like frozen lightning. The air around her grew colder, and frost began to creep along the edges of the wooden floor.
“I warned you,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion. “But you didn’t listen.”
The man’s bravado crumbled into fear. “I… I didn’t mean—”
“Leave. Now,” she said sharply, the glow in her hand intensifying. “Unless you want to lose more than just your hand.”
The tavern held its collective breath as the man staggered back, his face pale and drenched in sweat. With a final glance at the icy fragments on the wall, he turned and bolted, his wounded arm cradled against his chest.
The burly man stumbled to a halt near the door, clutching his bleeding hand. Despite his fear, his pride wasn’t so easily swallowed. He growled under his breath, turning back toward the robed woman.
‘You’ll regret this, mage! Do you think I don’t know what is a mage’s weakness?’ he spat inwardly as he grabbed a dagger from his belt.
‘Nobody crosses me and gets away with it!’
As his words hung in the air, a figure standing near the door shifted slightly. Another robed figure, this one a young man with a lean but poised frame, had stepped forward just enough for his presence to be noticed. His hood was drawn low, obscuring most of his face, but his posture spoke of quiet confidence.
At his waist hung a sword, its finely crafted hilt catching the dim light of the tavern. His hand drifted casually to the weapon, resting just above the pommel. He didn’t draw it, but the motion alone sent a ripple of unease through the room.
The burly man’s eyes darted between the mage and the swordsman. Whatever bravado he had left evaporated. Gritting his teeth, he abandoned any thought of retaliation and shoved the tavern door open with his uninjured arm.
“You’ll regret this, all of you!” he shouted as he stumbled out into the night, his threats muffled by the closing door.
The room erupted into murmurs, but no one dared to approach the robed woman. The bartender, who had previously ignored the commotion, quietly reached for a cloth to wipe the blood off the counter, his expression unreadable.
The robed woman turned her attention to the smaller woman still huddled on the floor. “Are you hurt?”
The woman shook her head, her eyes wide with a mix of gratitude and fear. “N-no… Thank you.”
Without another word, the robed figure turned and walked toward a table in the corner, where she sat, the glow in her hand fading. She pulled her hood further over her face, retreating into the shadows as though the altercation had never happened.
Lianne leaned in toward her brother, her voice barely a whisper. “She… she’s powerful.”
Her brother nodded, his expression contemplative. “A mage. And not just any mage—a skilled one. Someone who knows how to make a statement.”
“She didn’t hesitate,” Lianne murmured. “She stepped in.”
“She could afford to,” he replied, gesturing subtly toward the frost still clinging to the wall. “She’s strong enough to handle the consequences. That’s the difference, Lianne. Remember that.”
As the tavern slowly returned to its usual chaos, Lianne found her gaze drifting toward the robed woman. Something about her presence was both calming and unsettling, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that their paths would cross again.
“Eat,” her brother said, breaking her thoughts. “We’ll need our strength for what’s ahead. And keep your ears open—there’s more to learn here than just who can throw the sharpest shard of ice.”
Reluctantly, Lianne turned her attention back to her meal, though her mind remained on the mysterious mage and the icy warning she had left behind.
At the same time, the room only remained quiet for a moment longer before the low hum of conversation resumed. A few patrons cast curious glances at the robed duo, but most quickly returned to their drinks and dice games, unwilling to involve themselves further.
The robed woman turned to the young man near the door, giving him a subtle nod. Without a word, the two moved through the tavern and approached the bar. Their quiet but deliberate steps parted the crowd slightly as if the air around them carried an unspoken authority.
The bartender, who had been watching the scene unfold with mild interest, leaned forward as they approached. His scarred face betrayed no particular emotion, but his eyes flicked toward the woman’s glowing hand before returning to her hidden face.
“What’ll it be?” he asked gruffly, his tone neutral.
The robed man reached into the folds of her cloak, producing a small pouch. He placed it on the counter, the soft clink of coins audible even over the background noise.
“Food. Drinks. For two people.”