After walking for a while, they arrived at a modest-looking building with a weathered wooden sign hanging above the entrance.
"Here we are." Leon said as he pushed the door open with familiarity.
Towan and Elliot followed him inside, immediately greeted by the scent of burning wood and spices. The place had a rustic yet inviting feel, its warmth standing in stark contrast to the lingering chill in their bones. A large central fire cast flickering shadows along the wooden walls, filling the space with a soft, golden glow. Though the establishment wasn't particularly big, it felt comfortable—almost like stepping into a safe haven.
Sturdy wooden tables were scattered throughout the room, some occupied by travelers and merchants engaged in quiet conversations over their meals. In one corner, an old jukebox rested, playing a slow, mellow tune that blended effortlessly with the laid-back atmosphere. Behind the bar, a man stood with his arms crossed, staring into the fire as if lost in thought—until Leon approached.
"Yoo!" Leon greeted with the ease of someone who had known the man for years. "How's it going, Herb?"
The bartender lifted his gaze and smirked slightly.
"Leon? Damn, it's been a while." His voice was deep and steady, carrying the tone of someone not easily surprised. "What brings you here?"
His eyes drifted to the two boys standing behind Leon.
"And who are these brats?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Towan frowned. "We're not brats, you know?"
Before he could say more, Leon cut in smoothly. "Survivors from Heartwood."
The air in the room shifted. Herb exhaled sharply, the easygoing look in his eyes replaced with something heavier.
"Yeah... I heard about what happened." He studied the brothers, his gaze now filled with something between sympathy and concern. "Were you there, Leon?"
Leon sighed and nodded. "It just happened."
Herb didn't press further. Instead, he reached under the counter and pulled out an old metal key.
"Here." He handed it to Elliot. "Upstairs, at the end of the hallway. There's a guest room. You can use it for now."
Elliot narrowed his eyes, clearly suspicious. "And why are you helping us?"
Herb let out a short chuckle, not bothering to explain.
Leon gave Elliot a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry. I've been working with Herb for years. He's someone you can trust."
Elliot hesitated, glancing between the key and Herb before sighing. "Alright..."
With that, he and Towan headed upstairs, leaving Leon and Herb to continue their conversation.
The guest room was simple but functional. Two beds sat on opposite sides of the room with a small window between them, allowing a sliver of light to cast shadows on the wooden floor. A modest wardrobe stood in the corner—not that they had anything to put inside.
They sat down, each taking a bed, the silence stretching between them like an unspoken weight.
"What do we do now, Elliot?" Towan finally asked, his voice quiet but firm.
Elliot exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Well…" He tried to form an answer, but nothing came. No words felt right.
Towan, as if sensing his hesitation, leaned forward. "I think we should stick with Leon for now," he suggested. "At least until he teaches us how to use Essentia. That way, we can defend ourselves."
Elliot gave him a skeptical glance. "That depends on whether he's willing to keep us around that long."
Towan frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Learning Essentia…" Elliot started, choosing his words carefully. "From what Jose and Juan told me, it takes years just to grasp the basics. And the level Leon has? That's a lifetime of dedication."
Towan fell silent, absorbing the weight of that truth.
The room stayed eerily quiet, the air thick with uncertainty. It felt like the longest minute of their lives before Towan finally spoke again.
"There must be something we can do to help him, though." His tone carried a quiet determination. "If not, we'll have to find work here. This city doesn't seem half-bad."
Elliot gave a small nod. "Not like we have many options."